Riverman under cliff

You know lah...

2008-11-13T07:29:00.035Z

There are many ways to leave a room... and after all the jet-a-way-and-back-again over the years, the riverman~~~ has mastered the art.

For example... there's the "Straight out through the main doors, spill onto the red carpet and smack into the screaming flashbulbs". Alternatively, there's always the "Sneaky detour through the kitchen, squeeze by the waiters and out through the delivery doors down the side street where the smokers congregate". For today however, I feel like a good old dependable "Go round the room and say goodbye before the taxi arrives".

This last month, I have sort of felt like a guest who has stayed too late at a party. You know, the type where half the guests have left, the music is on re-repeat, the confetti is on the floor and the wine's gone warm in the glass? Yes, I have been itching to leave for quite a while, and for many a recent day I have felt that the call to leave hasn't come quick enough.

Don't get me wrong though - it hasn't been unbearable by any means. I have YOU to thank for making these days absolutely wonderful! Thank you for the beer in the afternoon under palm trees and for the char kwey teow under that sole unlit umbrella in Tiong Bahru Market. Thank you for the guitar session with maggie mee on the side at 2 am. Thank you for scolding me for smoking and then allowing me to dip into your ciggarettes. Thank you for that gin and tonic up at Balcony Bar. Thank you for Bak Chor mee and the introduction to your new girlfriend. Thank you for putting up with my barrage of election update texts. Thank you making me realise that Chi-wa-was can be very sweet. Thank you for teaching me how to fly my kite out in that empty field near Kampong Java. Thank you for allowing me to empty your refrigerator of coke light and tiger beer. Thank you for playing me opera in your car. Thank you for wine at Dempsey. Thank you for telling me off, encouraging me on and driving me up the wall and teasing me to death. Coming home would not have been the same without YOU.

My bag is a little heavier than usual this time - a testament to the elastic nature of the "bare necessities". It is remarkable how quickly a suitcase fills out in the last 24 hours before you leave home. Almost as quick as the urge to get nostalgic as soon as you zip that suitcase close and look around your room. Almost as quick as the taxi takes to get to your door after you call. Almost as quick as the frantic "Goodbye" texts in a street-lamp-lit back seat. Almost as quick as the trip down the ECP and almost as quick as you see the airport control tower straight ahead...

Too quick!

So before I lug-out onto a trolley and up the terminal gates... it is simple, pretty unoriginal and you probably know it already, but you know lah...it still needs to be said:

Take care and please do call, write and visit if you can. I am so going to miss YOU!

~~~

PS: The embeds are of a Berlin based band called "Virginia Jetzt". Something I discovered over these last two months while watching too much YouTube.

Change

2008-11-06T13:43:00.051Z

There are blog pages and write-ups aplenty congratulating America on electing its first African American president. Pundits spend hours on the TV and gallons of ink on the page dissecting everything and anything to absolutely nothing - from the shifting demographic of the American population... to the irrelevancy of the "Bradley Effect". Everything related to the campaign is analysed-digested-regurgitated-and-reanalysed again: from the would've-n-could've of the McCain/Palin ticket... to the "could it be possible" resuscitation of an embattled and rattled GOP... to the "what-type-of-puppy" will move into the White House with the Obama kids come January next year.

Yes admittedly it is all a little mad, but the riverman~~~ believes that having gone through the despondency of the last 8 years, the world fairly deserves to happily go Obama-crazy for a little while. The man has come to symbolise so much of what the world around America hopes America to be.

I remember as I type out this post how as the state-by-state results came in on election night, my finger-nails correspondingly grew shorter and shorter. When Ohio's results came in, my mobile phone started ringing. I picked it up and the voice of an obviously over-caffeinated friend from London blurted out anxiously, "What do you think? Has he won?".

The texts and calls came fast and furious after Virginia's results slammed home. Then an almost dreamlike sequence of events followed: the exuberant roar of the crowd from Times Square; the flourished wave of the stars and stripes over the sea of people in Chicago's Grant Park; the close-up of tears streaming down Rev. Jessee Jackson's face; the wild screams of 'Yes we did!" from the students from George Washington University; people, both white and black and every colour in between hugging each other on the streets of Harlem; the choked-up speechlessness of some of the anchors on CNN and MSNBC... and all the while those clear fluorescent words "PRESIDENT-ELECT BARACK OBAMA" flashing out from the alert titles on every news network.

As the world waited for the future 44th President of the United States to get on stage for his acceptance speech, the news channel I was watching put on a recording of that historic speech by Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. on August 28, 1963, as he stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. It was hard not to get choked up as his words rang out: "I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."".

From the hopeful optimism and faith of a Baptist minister from Atlanta, Georgia in 1963 to an acceptance speech by an African American president-elect in 2008... America, you have come a long way!

Just to illustrate, let's go back in time...

On April 16, 1963, a 22 year-old man dressed in worn out denims walked onto a stage in Gerde's Folk City in the West Village with his folk guitar and harmonica. As the mumble of the crowd around him fell into whisper, he strummed into the air what was probably one of the most iconic songs of the 60's civil rights movement. The melody was inspired by an old Negro spiritual. The lyric was a plea made on behalf of generations of people denied a voice. How many roads must a man walk down, before they call him a man How many seas must a white dove sail, before she sleeps in the sand How many times must the cannonballs fly, before they are forever banned.*The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind. The answer is blowing in the wind.* How many years must a mountain exist, before it is washed to the sea. How many years can some people exist, before they're allowed to be free. How many times can a man turn his head, and pretend that he just doesn't see. How many times must a man look up, before he can see the sky. How many years must one man have, before he can hear people cry. How many deaths will it take till he knows, that too many people have died.

Today when I listen to Bob Dylan's immortal "Blowing in the wind" I still find it extraordinary that a song that stabs so truthfully into the pain and injustice in racism came from a white man. And yet, why indeed should this be remarkable? Truth is colour-blind... and the questions asked in that song demand and just as surely provoke a truthful answer.

On October 8, 1963, an American Gospel, R&B and Soul singer named Sam Cooke and his band tried to register at a "whites only" motel in Shreveport, Louisiana. They were summarily arrested for disturbing the peace. Sam had heard Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind" a number of months before, and had been so impressed that after the incident at Shreveport, that he pushed himself out of apathy and penned the words of another immortal song called "A change is gonna come".

Within the stirring heartbeat of Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind", was a powerful question: "How many years can some people exist, before they're allowed to be free?". Sam Cooke responded to Dylan's question in his song "A change is gonna come", by insisting that even while change had been "a long, long time coming", nevertheless change would be inevitable in the end. Despite the steadfast hope that "change" would eventually come, the weariness of waiting for what seemed to take forever to be granted is evident in his words.

I was born by the river in a little tent. Oh and just like the river I've been running ever since. It's been a long, a long time coming. But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will. It's been too hard living but I'm afraid to die Cause I don't know what's up there beyond the sky It's been a long, a long time coming But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will. I go to the movie and I go downtown. Somebody keep telling me don't hang around. It's been a long, a long time coming. But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will. Then I go to my brother, And I say brother help me please. But he winds up knocking me back down on my knees. There been times that I thought I couldn't last for long. But now I think I'm able to carry on. It's been a long, a long time coming. But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will...

Both "Blowing in the Wind" and "A change is gonna come" constituted and began an extraordinary form of social dialogue via music with regards to race relations in America. Black American musicians from Otis Redding to Aretha Franklin to Al Green to Seal have steadily interpreted and reinterpreted Sam Cooke's response to Dylan's question for each new generation. And so, this indefatigable dialogue has continued by way of tentative question to hopeful answer from 1963 up to the present.

And so from 1963 Reader, we come to 2008.

On November 4, 2008, close to midnight, Barack Obama stood on the stage facing a 200,000 strong crowd in Chicago, and with a clear voice declared emphatically that "It's been a long time coming, but tonight,... change has come to America". Reader, as I listened to these words, a chill literally ran up my spine. The words that Barack Obama shouted into the night air on the 4th of November were a mirror of Sam Cooke's original words in 1963, but this time voiced with an air of decisiveness, certainty and finality. This was a jubilant shout of victory and no longer a weary prayer. Gone was that tinge of desperation... that hunger half dowsed in melancholy. Almost 45 years later, the world saw a unified America... white and black, shoulder to shoulder and with both sides of the civil rights dialogue finally responding in concert to the question that had been insistently blowing in the wind, from that evening in Gerde's Folk City in 1963 to the present day.

And as I watched the crowds chant "Yes We Can!" into the early hours of the morning after, the riverman~~~ believes, those three simple words, whether indirectly or purposefully, were that long awaited final triumphant reply to the question Dylan asked so long ago.

Well done America, and congratulations!

~~~

It's the election, Stupid!

2008-10-27T13:28:00.041Z

I am not American... but these days I almost feel like I am.

Yes, I am as close to American nowadays as what a combustible chunk of CNN, a saucy spoonful of MSNBC and a dangerous dash of of FOX can create within the space of a heated month of televised presidential debates, campaign ads and snarky SNL. All that, and then add in the gosh-darn-it-betcha-risms that have found their way into the international stream of consciousness and from there unconsciously into my vocabulary - thanks but no thanks to Sarah Palin. In fact this intensive crash course in "AmeriMcCainObamanation" will probably leave me feeling very hollow when I wake up on November the 4th and realise that I can't bl**dy vote!

Oh well Reader, but at least some of you will be able to. The closest the riverman~~~ will be to a voting booth in America will be the "Authentic New York American Pizza - Extra Hot Pepperoni Special" in my freezer which I am saving to nuke and tuck into as the ballots get counted up into the wee small hours of the morning / afternoon / evening.

I know that Americans don't care what the rest of the world thinks with regards to the choice they will have to make in a little less than 8 days. And really, they shouldn't have to. What other country cares about the opinion of the world around them when it comes to electing their representatives? Why, that would be tantamount to a sneaky surrender of national sovereignty if anything!

No... the clamour for free trade from China and India or the shaky day-to-day existence of Palestinians in Gaza are not factors that Americans NEED to consider when casting their ballots. These are factors they can privately CHOOSE to consider of course, but the overall legacy of the volitional process in any democratic election should be exclusively for that country's citizens.

So when CNN airs viewpoints from the bus-driver in Oz to the film critic in Canada and everyone in-between during its "America Votes 2008 - International Voices" segments, this is merely of reflective value... reflective of the sobering fact that whatever choice Americans make on the November the 4th, will be a choice this inter-connected world will have to accept and live with.

So what will you do on election day, America?

Not long ago a singer songwriter based in Austin, Texas called Kat Edmonson(http://www.myspace.com/katedmonson) hunkered down to work with another songwriter called Kevin Lovejoy (also from Austin, Texas), and submitted a jointly-written original song to a CNN film competition. You can view and listen to it in the YouTube channel above this post. According to Kat, she simply handed out old cardboard squares and strips to random folk in Austin and asked them to write out what they would do as president. Simple concept, but pretty powerful... especially when you see what they wrote. And if what they wrote is indicative of what America as a whole wants of its new president, then the riverman~~~ thinks that the rest of the world will be pretty impressed with America come November the 4th.

Go on then America! Choose for YOU... and if you do, I believe you will choose wisely.

In the meantime - I leave you with a lighter look at what has been without a doubt, the most entertaining US election ever.... Gosh, I'm going to feel so bored after election day!

~~~

"Be the change that you want to see in the world" - Mahatma Gandhi

Vice President Sarah Palin - Pure Pa(in)lin-Speak

2008-09-29T04:01:00.073Z

It's gotta be that fantastic crisp moose-flavoured air in Alaska that she's been brought up in, but Vice-A-Heartbeat-Away-President-Candidate Palin is a woman with spunk, and she never gives in. Nope... and say it ain't so Joe! Not even when the going gets down-right dirty... and it's been dirty all right this last week or so hiding out in Fox TV's bunkers behind an army of Joe-Six-Packs and avoiding them gawd-awful Katie Couric liberals. Poor thang! Betcha that's been hard!

So let's give Governor Palin one more chance shall we Reader? Any woman who wears a pair of pumps the way she does deserves another opportunity "to walk the walk and not just talk the talk". The riverman~~~ decided this week to lower the bar below the ground and invite Governor Palin to submit all her possible answers to the most important questions she has ever been asked by the press and in the televised debates. Just one... and I repeat ONE of these answers that Governor Palin submits here needs to hit the mark in order for her to pass the test. Yes, the riverman~~~ believes in "lifelines". The world will probably need one if Governor Palin makes it to the White House.

Without any further to-do... Take it away Sarah!!!

Question: All-righty Govenor Palin, how will you fix the economy?

Two possible Pa(in)lin answers:

(a) Our economy and putting it back on the verbiage that Senator McCain chose to use them. It's about creating jobs under the umbrella of job creation. So we have got to put the pressure on Iran and we have got to get people to understand what he's been talking about solutions and wishing for and hoping for solutions for some opportunity to do this with you. I believe that America has to be considered also. But again, it's got to have a good guy who is saying that. Now, one who would seek to protect the good guys in this, the leaders of Israel and her friends, her allies, including the United States of America, where... where do they go? It's Alaska.

(b) The economy and putting it back on the right reasons and serving for the right reasons and serving for the other party. Trying to get a more democratic nation with democratic ideals. That's why we have got to flow into our domestic markets first. As for that VP talk all the time, I'll tell you, I still can't answer that I have the confidence in that Washington establishment, where, yeah, they've had opportunities to meet heads of state these last couple of weeks... it has been overwhelming to me who the good guys are. Through reform, absolutely. Look at the end of the United States of America, where where do they go? It's Alaska.

Let's give you another lifeline Governor. Let's get this very clear - what DO you mean?

(c) Yes Charlie! Our economy and putting it back on the side of the earth. Now, one who would seek to wipe them off the face of the solution to the problems on Wall Street. Well, it was unfortunate. That manifestation that we saw - Charlie - with that invasion of Georgia shows us some steps backwards that Russia has recently taken away from the race toward a more coordinated and a much more stringent oversight regime government can play a very, very appropriate role in the trade sector today... we've got to be considered also. But Charlie - again, it's got to get people to understand that the people of America are not noticing that there are mistakes made. But we're mavericks.

Let's really get to heart of the issue. What is your foreign policy experience?

Two possible Pa(in)lin-esque rejoinders:

(a) Alaska Oil and Gas Conservation Commission, overseeing the oil and gas development in our state to produce more for the United States of America, where... where do they go? It's Alaska. It's rearing it's head. It's just right over the border. It is obvious to me who the good guys in this, the leaders of Israel and her friends, her allies, including the United States. I want you to not lose sight of the status-quo, the politics as usual and somebody's big, fat resume maybe that shows decades and decades in that Washington establishment, where, yes, they've had opportunity to meet heads of state and I can see Russia from...

(b) Alaska that we send those out to make sure that an eye is being kept on this very powerful nation, Russia, because they are right next to our state. He's got the track record of the United States. I want to do ... and... and serving for the other party. Trying to get that gas line built, so pray for that. I see the collapse that we're seeing today, you know that something is broken and John McCain had pushed for, more troops? A counterinsurgency strategy?" And he also showed great appreciation for what America needs today. I'll try to destroy not only our democracy, but communities like the community of New York.

Errr... I see...! Would you like one more try Sarah?

(c) Alaska - that we can show is economic sanctions perhaps could be more comfortable and certainly taking shots from the race toward a more coordinated oversight regime government can play a very, very important .... when you consider even national security issues with Russia as Putin rears his head and comes into the air space .... of the message that Americans are getting sick and tired of a process that's not allowing that process of that progress to be found here. Consumers and those who are hell bent on destroying our nation.

Question: What is the role of the US in Iraq and Afghanistan?

Two Pa(in)ful responses:

(a) Iraq - that John McCain had pushed for, more troops? A counterinsurgency strategy?" And he said, "yes." And he said, "yes." And he said, "yes." And he also showed great appreciation for what America and American troops are providing in his country. But no, the Pakistani people also, they... they want freedom. They want democratic values and tolerance and freedom. I see the United States, in my world, those are the good guys. Through reform, absolutely. Look at the oversight as people are trusting these companies with their insurance policies, and construction bonds, and everything else. When we see right now in Washington - it has got to be considered also.

(b) Afghanistan will lead to war and it doesn't have to stand for that. I believe that they, too, want to do with foreign policy and national security issues. Let me speak specifically about a credential ... but that John McCain... that I am so proud of his independent and strong decision he has made, what he decided to do this with you. I believe that - what Congress is going to take everybody working together on this, and not choosing a real easy path where he could be implemented if things weren't gonna go right. I thought yes, right off the face of the status-quo, going with the energy source that is part of the United States of America, where where do they go? It's Alaska!

I would ask you to try and answer the question Governor. What Exactly DO you mean? One last time for the folks at home!

(c) Iraq and Afghanistan will lead to further security of our best interests to fight against a regime, especially Iran, who would seek to protect the good guys ... they are in this nation at this time. It is from Alaska that we work with our allies to help us do that in this nation at this time. People are getting into crisis mode here. I think if you go back and look at that as more opportunity. John McCain... He's also known as the solution or not. You know, it's going to have nuclear weapons, what can we do - it's very important to us and they do not like the community of New York.

Question: Why should the US elect Senator McCain?

Two Pal(a)in-speak explanations:

(a) McCain has a great plan to get a more democratic nation with democratic ideals that are democratic. That's why we have been put in where it is in this case, for Georgia. The support that we send those out to make sure that an eye on Russia and Putin and some of these countries, especially Russia. We will not repeat a Cold War, but economic sanctions, diplomatic pressure, again, counting on our allies to help us ... Diplomatic pressure. We need to pursue those and we need to reform government. We have got to get that gas line built, so pray for that. It is obvious to me... that confirmation of the people. It's a nice thing about him, too - is he is not asking me or anybody else to check our opinions at the door. He wants that healthy deliberation and debate with it. John McCain and I - We're mavericks.

(b) John McCain and I have not and I think it was unfortunate. That manifestation that we work together on this, and not choosing a real easy path where he could be implemented if things weren't gonna go right. I thought yes, right off the bat. When he offered me the position, as his running mate. No, I've worked all my life. In fact, I usually had two jobs all my life until I had kids. We got to put the pressure on Iran and we have got to be a multi-faceted solution that has to exercise all options out there on the world. Sorry Sarah! I just got lost in that blizzard of bullets. Just to make absolutely sure... ?

(c) McCain chose to use them. So we have been and mistakes made. And with new leadership, and that's the beauty of American elections, of course, and democracy, is with new leadership comes opportunity to change, and who's actually done it? That's something that John McCain has done, that has been lack... I believe, here at the door. He wants that healthy deliberation and debate with it. Oh... and just in case you didn't hear it before: MAVERICK!

Good night and Good Luck... and God bless America!

BTW - watch the Youtube entries above and below - betchya-all love em! ________________________________________________________

(All art by Zina Saunders http://www.drawger.com/zinasaunders/ and lots of thanks to http://www.interviewpalin.com/!)
~~~

Scenes from a mobile phone...

2008-09-18T18:04:00.141Z

It is amazing.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you NEVER deleted a single photograph from your mobile phone? Over the past one and a half years or so, I have been clicking away at the random anything-and-everything-to-anywhere-and-everywhere on my very outdated Sony Ericsson, and yesterday was the day of reckoning for my refusal to delete or archive. As I tried to save a new number, to my horror, my phone screamed out a long *Beep*, sputtered a few muffled expletives and sighed into silence in my hand. You can imagine how I reacted Reader.

After an hour or so of hissing and cussing, I went down to the shops and gingerly deposited the carcass across the counter. I was more afraid of having lost all my contact numbers, but I was quickly assured that all was well. My contact numbers were safe, and so were my four hundred and three pictures.

FOUR HUNDRED AND THREE PICTURES?!? Bl**dy hell!!

Half-an-hour later I left the shop with a thumb-drive of pictures and my thoroughly disemboweled but miraculously resuscitated phone safe in my pocket. I am now sitting at home staring at the following treasures which have tumbled out onto my computer screen, and they are truly... Amazing! Somehow and very unconsciously little Sony-boy and me have created something really special. A haphazard record of very special moments - from funny to sad to contemplative to reckless to choreographed to liquor-laced to hung-over-dazed. I think that my camera did a better job of recording these last two years than this blog ever did... Naturally I am not at liberty to post every picture I have on this post - personal privacy and space being the primary limitation here. However, I will post a very selective selection. Every picture here comes with a remarkable story, and some of these stories I know some of YOU would remember just as vividly.

So let's rewind...

Much of my days at work at Canary Wharf were spent staring out of the window... and this is the superb view from my room on a rare sunny day in London. Yes... you do get sunny days in London!

One morning as I walked to work, I chanced upon this fellow walking out of the Canary Wharf tube station wearing a massive fluffy dog's head. I have no idea why. Probably a new way of "walking the dog".

Yes... working in Canary Wharf does make one go a touch crazy...

Glorious evenings in my garden in the middle of June last year... when Matt was around and Binny made her world class Pimms. Miss you all guys!

I still remember this day in April this year, when I woke up freezing and ran into the kitchen to switch on the heater, and this winter wonderland scene met me from my garden doors...

I actually forgot how cold I was.

On the day my new dining table arrived, I received a furry visitor from next door, who refused to leave until he conducted his own personal inspection of every rivet and joint...

Now that was a momentous occasion of sorts, but definitely nothing to the one below...

Thanks for being such a good sport Greggy!

(PS: The sequel to Greggy's latest movie will hopefully follow in the next post. I am so proud of you my little "Megastar"!)

I personally think that THIS is the best reason for having garden furniture!

And THIS is the best reason for champagne...

...and the best reason to wear summer dresses from Matalan!

(GBP10.00 per dress, Matalan (Lewisham) - Just in case you want to know.)

Wine (especially in the amounts I imbibe) invariably leads me to fancy myself an artist, and that in turn usually leads to me taking very random shots...

.... of wine being poured into a glass...

... or random dead leaves on an even more random pavement...

...or new fangled-angled shots of champagne glasses while lying on the floor when invited to a dinner party with a number of good friends...

... all of whom are pretty remarkable people with even more remarkable ideas at around three in the morning...

... before they all start to drift off at sometime around four.

Two things that go together in London after a day at work... (1)Footy and (2) a Pub...

Actually Rina, could you remind me... WHO EXACTLY were we supporting that evening - Liverpool or Man U?

I don't care for Footy really, and I won't pretend to! For me the reason for a night out in London is the live music - especially the Jazz scene. Thanks Kalam for expanding my horizons beyond institutionalised Ronnie Scotts!

I thought it was remarkable the way these two were able to sit attentively at their chess game throughout all the kerfuffle about them on a Friday evening in a local Weatherspoons. Remember this Ling?

And this is the way a Friday night usually ends for most of London... either outside a club snogging someone you don't know or alternatively kissing a curb...

Another Friday-night institution in London: The very expensive taxi ride home through a winding maze of screaming green-yellow-white-and-red lights...

Londoners love Karaoke.

So does Ling. She belts it out in my living room on a regular basis...

Just sign the woman on for the X Factor!!

Many people say that pure British food sucks. I disagree... and refer you all to the great Loch Fyne restaurant at Portsmouth... Seafood done the way Neptune would order it - simply pure bliss!

This was part of the World Naked Bike Ride that came to London for a weekend as part of a protest against world fuel usage and consequential global warming - SHEESH - whatever!!

Those Naturists will try ANYTHING!

So will Ling. Here she is - contemplating Ascot... (nice hat Dhharr-r-llinn-nggg!)

(I know she will KILL me for putting this up!)

Here is Tania meticulously cutting the weeds in my garden... specifically a dandelion flower. Observe the concentration.

(Shhh.hhhh... she just may miss...)

In order to make herself feel better for abusing my hospitality for a month... Tania decided to weed my garden. Leslie decided to assist as well, in order to protect my garden from Tania...

And they did work very very very hard for a whole of one afternoon!

And here you are guys! The result of Leslie's and Tania's hard labour in my garden after two weeks... What do you know: The bulbs were viable after all! WELL DONE!!!

The new tenants of Undercliff send you both their love!

And here are a few of my pictures of the informal goodbye-do on Friday night!

Angelique's glamourous pose gets outdone by The Corporation Of London Garbage Van in the window! Whadd-deh-hell!!!

*muak -muak* to you too! (Michael's really getting into it!)

Given the fact that I have exposed all of you on my blog this week somewhat against your will and largely without your permission, I thought I would do away with a riverman~~~ tradition and put my mug on this post as well in a show of solidarity!

More importantly, to the guys in London: I miss you all, and please do remember to phone and e-mail and finally visit me when I send you all my new address. The riverman~~~ will be on Facebook and amenable to all manner of "pokes" and "trout-slaps" you dispense my way!

After all, this is hardly goodbye... and no matter what, you know this river will meander.

~~~

Certain

2008-07-29T17:54:00.040Z

It's settled.

Over the last month, I contemplated the fluster-flurries of what-ifs-and-hows within a snow globe in my hand. Today I put it down and looked up at the sky for a change... and under and out of all that sheer vast impossible Blue... I decided.

Decisions are frightening. They require certainty of self in the midst of a turbulence of possibilities. I am definitely not certain of myself. But then again, I'm certainly not frightened.

In fact there are a few other things I am also certain of. My suitcase is on the bed and it's empty now, but I know that by Thursday night it will be full and spilling over with the spoils of two years. Two very good years. Another thing I am sure of is that the name of this blog will have to change, for the riverman~~~ will probably never be "under cliff" ever again.

The past four years of my life have been a series of comings-and-goings to everywhere-and-nowhere only to come-back to go-away again. I have no idea if this, my next move, will be my last, but let me tell you what I certainly know:

I know that this time I don't want to make a big deal out of leaving. I positively don't need an airport farewell, and I have categorically ruled out spending any more time sitting around and reminiscing over the past two years. I know that I simply have to look through the past entries on this blog to remember what I have had, and recognise what I know I still have. The best and most true of treasures can never fit into a suitcase, but I will be able to take them with me just the same. Of this I am very certain.

And one final thing I am certain about:

Roads are for journeys and not for destinations... and after all this sit-down-contemplation... it's time I stretched my legs and did a little walking!

So let's just say farewell for the present Reader, for You will hear from me again.

And of that, I know You are certain!

~~~

Interlude

2008-07-23T07:26:00.111Z

I don't think the bull-frog symphony in my garden is to blame, but the riverman~~~ is finding it very hard to sleep tonight.

It's funny how quickly you lose sight of what is important. It starts with the simple things. You hang away your blog in the cupboard first... your guitar follows soon after. You constrict and compartmentalise your head into calendars, lists and plans as you flatter yourself on your ability to cut a little certainty into big, wide and unknown possibilities. Ambition thrives on bravado to a boiling-point, until one night you wake up and realise that you have forgotten how to breathe, and that your whole life is now a proverbial case of too little butter over too much bread.

So I have got out of bed at 2 am and decided that I will do a little unpacking, dust out my thoughts and hopefully find out where I misplaced my "Rosebud".

...

It's 4 am now, and I am sitting in front of my computer and watching random YouTube offerings. I mouse-click-clacked my way from the new Dark Knight previews down to re-runs of Smallville and stumbled upon a whole series of documentaries on the Michael Jackson trial in 2005, which served to wipe away all sleep from my eyes for the rest of the night.

Naturally, after so much Jacko in the dock, by way of natural progression, I wanted to see his performances... and so I click-clacked through his Motown-moonwalk to his Grammy-catwalk, and somewhere around 3 am, I happened to suddenly drop into a music video of that very Disney-esque autobiographical song called "Childhood".

Now I have heard this song before, and ordinarily it would have been a short stop on the way to another "silly somewhere and anywhere else", but tonight there is a certain something in the air that holds me still. Perhaps it's a result of Jacko-overload, or perhaps it's simply lack of sleep. Or perhaps it's the blue streaks of dawn filtering through the window blinds, bathing my bedroom in the same blue light of the images in the video. Perhaps it's the soaring orchestration so suited to the imagery and lyrics - a magical voyage into the pure, simple and undefinable and yet so recognisable Something-Else.

As for Jackson... the man may be an object of worship and revulsion in equal measure, both a misunderstood-recluse and a shameless lime-lit Peter Pan. However, we never find truth between double-edged tabloid pages and under the drum-roll-drama of a politicised court-room... Furthermore, how often do we recognise Angels among us? For now, why not suspend the man and let his work speak for him, especially when it does this so eloquently!

Childhood - Michael Jackson (1995)

Have you seen my Childhood?
I'm searching for the world that I come from
'Cause I've been looking around
In the lost and found of my heart...

No one understands me
They view it as such strange eccentricities...
'Cause I keep kidding around
Like a child, but pardon me...

People say I'm not okay
'Cause I love such elementary things...
It's been my fate to compensate, for the Childhood
I've never known...

Have you seen my Childhood?
I'm searching for that wonder in my youth
Like pirates and adventurous dreams,
Of conquest and kings on the throne...

Before you judge me, try hard to love me,

the painful youth I've had...
Look within your heart then ask, Have you seen my Childhood?

Reader, if you know the riverman~~~, you would remember all-night sessions on a CD-strewn carpet with a retrospective glass of wine (or four!), and over-sentimentalised nostalgia in the air. So, knowing me the way you do, can you blame me if I feel the urge to share with you a few other wonderful gems I am re-discovering as I sit here in the wee small last-hours of last-night?

These songs bring me back to what I am and remind me of what I treasure most - the trust I find in good friends, the surrender in knowing that there are things I may never know and understand, and the constant drive within to try to be the best person I can be. Do click-clack over to the YouTube embedded videos below to take a listen to these little wonders... and let me know your thoughts. Put away commonsense and cynicism. They will undoubtedly stay pickled together till you need them for more rational things... and for tonight, I propose we stay entirely irrational!

Tea and Sympathy - Janis Ian (1975)

I don't want to ride the milk train anymore I'll go to bed at nine and waken with the dawn And lunch at half past noon and dinner prompt at five The comfort of a few old friends long past their prime

Pass the tea and sympathy for the good old days long gone We'll drink a toast to those who most believe in what they've won It's a long, long time 'til morning plays wasted on the dawn And I'll not write another line, for my true love is gone
When the guests have done, I'll tidy up the rooms And turn the covers down, and gazing at the moon I'll pray to go quite mad and live in long-ago When you and I were one, so very long-ago

When I have no dreams to give you anymore I'll light a blazing fire and wait within the door And throw my life away, "I wonder why?" they all will say And now I lay me down to sleep, forever and a day
Pass the tea and sympathy, for the good old days are dead Let's drink a toast to those who best survived the life they've led
It's a long, long time 'til morning, so build your fires high Now I lay me down to sleep, forever by your side

This Old Guitar - John Denver (1974)

This old guitar taught me to sing a love song It showed me how to laugh and how to cry It introduced me to some friends of mine And brightened up some days It helped me make it through some lonely nights Oh, what a friend to have on a cold and lonely night This old guitar gave me my lovely lady It opened up her eyes and ears to meIt brought us close together I guess it broke her heartIt opened up the space for us to be What a lovely place and a lovely space to be This old guitar gave me my life my living All the things you know I love to do To serenade the stars that shine From a sunny mountainside Most of all to sing my songs for youI love to sing my songs for you Yes, I do, you know I love to sing my songs for you

Nightswimming - REM (1993)

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night. The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago, Turned around backwards so the windshield shows. Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse. Still, its so much clearer.I forgot my shirt at the waters edge. The moon is low tonight. Nightswimming deserves a quiet night. I'm not sure all these people understand. Its not like years ago, The fear of getting caught, Of recklessness and water. They cannot see me naked. These things, they go away, Replaced by everyday. Nightswimming, remembering that night.Septembers coming soon. I'm pining for the moon. And what if there were two Side by side in orbit Around the fairest sun? That bright, tight forever drum Could not describe nightswimming. You, I thought I knew you. You I cannot judge. You, I thought you knew me, This one laughing quietly underneath my breath. Nightswimming. The photograph reflects, Every streetlight a reminder. Nightswimming deserves a quiet night, deserves a quiet night.

Reader, you have always known me as unabashedly sentimental. I am not ashamed of the choke in my throat as I listen to these songs. It is an affirmation that for as rashly as I have thrown both body and mind into the vulgar and ridiculous of Everyday for these many months, I am still intact within and still alive to what I am. It is an assurance that things packed-away may still be unpacked... and that what is lost can be found again, if sought for.

It's six o-clock in the morning... and I am so very glad I am alive.
PS: For a little night-time music via YouTube -the full playlist is available here:

http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=EEB13B6ECF9E0E3F

~~~

The Movie Files (Part 1): Beautiful Black & White

2008-05-16T12:56:00.003Z

A friend of mine (let's give her a nice Singaporean name and call her Molly) came a-visiting the other day and stumbled upon my DVD collection. This was an unsurprising occurrence given the sizable chunk of my living room area said "Collection" occupies. The first thing Molly said to me when she fell upon my treasure was... "Wah-rau! Got so many one - can open Blockbuster orreddy!!".

Last night I thought about what she said and it struck me as funny that in all this time I had never written about the one thing I probably spend more time on than computer games. (Yes Reader, and that is a LOT of time!) I simply love my movies. I hardly watch television, and so am thankfully not imprisoned with Desperate Housewives, contemplating Grey's Anatomy or on the look-out for Heroes.

In fact, I love movies so much, I even make it a point to actually BUY the movies I want. I NEVER illegally download them, much to the derision of tech-savvy friends. I counter all mockery thrown in my direction by arguing that all the money I spend every month on Amazon or in HMV is a contribution to an industry that gives me immeasurable pleasure. (Yeah that, and also the fact that I can never get those download websites to work without my computer crashing!) So John, if you are reading this, maybe I will take you up on your computer lessons!

The problem for many of my friends like Molly is that I never seem to have the movies they especially want to see. Poor Molly's excitement at the sight of my mini video library quickly evaporated when I informed her that I did not have anything with Jeniffer Aniston or Hugh Grant (unless he was in a Merchant-Ivory production).

"Not even Four Weddings?" - the poor girl looked at me in horror.

Sorry Molly-dear, I never felt that movie "in my fingers... [and] in my toes...".

That information served to severely devalue my collection in Molly's eyes, but she politely made do with Brad Pitt in A River Runs Through It.

Another friend of mine (lets give him a nice South-East-London name .... - James) was incredulous for a whole day when I told him I did not have Gladiator, Blade or 300. He wasn't too impressed with the Indiana Jones Trilogy I proffered.

Oh well, you can't please everyone.

One thing people notice when they run through my collection is the number of old Black and White (B&W) Movies I have accumulated over time. Now, I love CGI, and everyone who knows me, knows how many times I have watched and re-watched Peter Jackson's wonderful interpretation of the The Lord of the Rings. When I first found out that Jackson was going to actualise what was (and is) my favourite book using CGI, I was sceptical and not a little bit worried about the final product. When the dream-like interpretations of Hobbiton and nighmare-hues of Mordor exploded onto the cinema-screen, I realised what a miracle CGI could be if it was used cleverly and purposefully. By the time Michael Bay rolled out his version of Transformers, I was thoroughly won over. In fact, I have even gone so far as to purchase a copy of Troy (the CGI enhanced soldiers are fantastic) and hell, I even have a copy of the wholly CGI version of Beowulf (featuring an impossibly sexy-looking CGI-ied Angelina Jolie wearing next to nothing, and cavorting around with fantastic multi-eyed and tentacled water-demons and fire -pitting dragons (Ah! James, I think I found you something for the next time you come over!)

However, good old B&W can capture an astounding variety of emotions and depth. The nature of black and white and their antithesis to each other allows for the creation of both the "ghostly" and the "sparkling"; the "journalistic" and the "gritty". It can lend itself to both fantasy and glamour and then depression and despair. The visual texture of black and white ranges from harsh to satin-y to crystalline to metallic. These textures add to the kind of film being made i.e. clean and crisp for a comedy to shadowy and hushed for a horror film, to dark and stark for a crime thriller.

Here is my tribute to my favourite B&W Movies. Let me know how many of these you have seen and how many I have missed out. But first a caveat: I did not include Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List or George Clooney's Good Night and Good Luck in this list. This does not mean that I don't consider both films good examples of B&W film. I just think that both films tend to be over-represented in everyone's lists of top B&W film, and personally, I did not care too much for Clooney's contribution in this regard. (Just my opinion by the way, and I am entitled to it!)

Let's start with an immortal favourite. Yes, this was the 8th Wonder of the World in 1933, and still is today!

"Oh no, it wasn't the airplanes. It was beauty killed the beast. " - King Kong (1933)

"No, I don't think so; no. Mr. Kane was a man who got everything he wanted and then lost it. Maybe Rosebud was something he couldn't get, or something he lost. Anyway, it wouldn't have explained anything... I don't think any word can explain a man's life. No, I guess Rosebud is just a... piece in a jigsaw puzzle... a missing piece." - Citizen Kane (1941)

"Just you wait, it won't be long. The man in black will soon be here. With his cleaver's blade so true. He'll make mincemeat out of YOU!" - "M" (1931)

"The magnificence of the Ambersons began in 1873. Their splendor lasted throughout all the years that saw their midland town spread and darken into a city. " - The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)

"But is there anyone who's really good? Maybe goodness is just make-believe." - Rashomon (1950)

"We all come into this world with our little egos equipped with individual horns. If we don't blow them, who else will?" - All About Eve (1950)

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an emperor. That's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible; Jew, Gentile, black man, white. " - The Great Dictator (1940)

"George, my husband... George, who is out somewhere there in the dark, who is good to me - whom I revile, who can keep learning the games we play as quickly as I can change them. Who can make me happy and I do not wish to be happy. Yes, I do wish to be happy. George and Martha: Sad, sad, sad. Whom I will not forgive for having come to rest; for having seen me and having said: yes, this will do." - Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966)

"Keep still, you young devil, or I'll slit your throat!" - Great Expectations (1946)

Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens - (1921)

"Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. " - A Streetcar named Desire (1951)

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine." - Casablanca (1942)

"Libel, libel! Don't say "label" as if Papa were a pickle bottle." - Little Women (1933)

"I am not an elephant! I am not an animal! I am a human being! I am a man! " - The Elephant Man (1980)

"I must know everything. I must penetrate the heart of his secret! I must become Caligari!" - Kabinett des Doktor Caligari, Das (1920)

What do you think of farmers? You think they're saints? Hah! They're foxy beasts! They say, "We've got no rice, we've no wheat. We've got nothing!" But they have! They have everything! Dig under the floors! Or search the barns! You'll find plenty! Beans, salt, rice, sake! Look in the valleys, they've got hidden warehouses! They pose as saints but are full of lies! If they smell a battle, they hunt the defeated! They're nothing but stingy, greedy, blubbering, foxy, and mean! " - Shichinin no samurai (1954)

"There was a fever over the land. A fever of disgrace, of indignity, of hunger. We had a democracy, yes, but it was torn by elements within. Above all, there was fear. Fear of today, fear of tomorrow, fear of our neighbors,

and fear of ourselves. " - Judgement at Nuremberg (1961)

"Oh Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley here is eager for her lesson. I hope you will enjoy it, Miss Bingley, and that you will learn to direct your darts with greater accuracy." - Pride and Prejudice (1940)

"Then it don't matter. I'll be all around in the dark - I'll be everywhere. Wherever you can look - wherever there's a fight, so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the way guys yell when they're mad. I'll be in the way kids laugh when they're hungry and they know supper's ready, and when the people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they build - I'll be there, too." - The Grapes of Wrath (1940)

"You thought you could be Mrs. de Winter, live in her house, walk in her steps, take the things that were hers! But she's too strong for you. You can't fight her - no one ever got the better of her. Never, never. She was beaten in the end, but it wasn't a man, it wasn't a woman. It was the sea!" - Rebecca (1940)

"The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king." - Hamlet (1948)

"I've written a letter to Daddy..." - Whatever happened to Baby Jane (1962)

"During the recent heavy weather, I've had the opportunity to watch all of you at work on deck and aloft. You don't know wood from canvas! And it seems you don't want to learn! Well, I'll have to give you a lesson." - Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)

"Though I'm no Olivier... I would much rather... And though I'm no Olivier... If he fought Sugar Ray, he would say "That the thing ain't the ring, it's the play. So give me a stage where this bull here can rage, and though I could fight, I'd much rather recite ... that's entertainment." - Raging Bull (1981)

"Metropolis" (1927)

"There just didn't seem to be anyone or anything Atticus couldn't explain. Though it wasn't a talent that would arouse the admiration of any of our friends, Jem and I had to admit he was very good at that - but that was *all* he was good at... we thought." - To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

"You-you eat like a bird." - Psycho (1960)

"I met Death today. We are playing chess." - The Seventh Seal (1957)

"This can't last. This misery can't last. I must remember that and try to control myself. Nothing lasts really. Neither happiness nor despair. Not even life lasts very long. There'll come a time in the future when I shan't mind about this anymore, when I can look back and say quite peacefully and cheerfully how silly I was. No, no, I don't want that time to come ever. I want to remember every minute, always, always to the end of my days." - Brief Encounter (1945)

"It's always difficult to keep personal prejudice out of a thing like this. And wherever you run into it, prejudice always obscures the truth. I don't really know what the truth is. I don't suppose anybody will ever really know... No jury can declare a man guilty unless it's SURE. We nine can't understand how you three are still so sure. Maybe you can tell us." - Twelve Angry Men (1957)

The Monster: You, make man... like me?

Dr. Pretorius: No. Woman... friend for you

The Monster: Woman... Friend... Wife... - Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

"No, no. When a clumsy cloud from here meets a fluffy little cloud from there, he billows towards her. She scurries away and he scuds right up to her. She cries a little and there you have you showers. He comforts her. They spark. That's the lightning. They kiss. Thunder. " - Top Hat (1935)

Simply love it! Don't you?
So how many of these have you watched? Do you have any other recommendations from your collections for me?

(Oh, and just in case you thought I forgot that adorable little Tramp in top hat and bendy walking cane, He's just below on YouTube. So enjoy!)

~~~

bits 'n' bobs at 36

2008-04-15T10:40:00.093Z

People, I gather you together in bloggerland to celebrate another fabulous year in the life of the riverman~~~. Much has occured and much has recurred and sometimes not everything has concurred. Alas c'est la vie...

Let's review some of the very best of last year...

In the category of Dangerous Infusion:

Yes the infamous Binny-PIMMS: A motley-molotoval concoction served up in large jugs under sunny skies in July, capable of knocking out large Australian men by the dozen.

1 big jug (a Bodum is usually best!), Pimms No.1 Cocktail, Glasses: Highball, Garnish: Mixed fresh fruit (E.g. Cucumber, Lemon, Lime, Strawberries, Blackberries, Blueberries, Raspberries & Mint) , 25ml Gin, 50ml Pimms No.1, Lemonade, Soda water, Ice

Method: Cut up strawberries (unless they are the tiny sweet ones). Cut up cucumber (shave off the skin first). Dump all fruits (cut and whole) into a large Bodum glass jug. Pour in Gin and leave for 5 minutes so the fruits get saturated. Add in some ice. Pour in a double amount of Soda and a single amount of Lemonade. Tear and stir in mint leaves. Top with ice and serve in highball glasses.

In the category of Most Beautiful Discovery:
Flawless light in a darkening air Alone...and shining there Love will not elude you Love is simpleI worship this tenacity And the beautiful struggle we're in Love will not elude us Love is simple Be sure to know that All in love is ours And love, as a philosophy Is simple I am calm in oblivion Calm, as I ever have been Love will not elude me Love is simple Be sure to know that All in love Is ours...Is ours...That all in love Is ours And love, as philosophy Is simple...And ours...

In the category of Evil Bitch

Yep, you guessed it - English Weather! We can safely say that global warming has turned English weather into a foul, deranged and ill-mannered harpy! And just to prove she can change her mind on a whim... guess what Reader!?

Just three weeks ago, it snowed... AGAIN! Yes - right smack in the middle of April...

... and then that little vixen splashed sun all over our skies this week!

In the category of Self-gratifying-Prima-Donna-Moment:
Thank you Melf, Gary and Adam for a wonderful time! Here's to many more wonderful moments in the next year! I promise not to begrudge you your Prima-Donna-Moments too!!

In the Category of Remarkable Jigsaw Puzzle
Go on then! Let's see YOU put the pieces together!

In the category of Helluvvah-Gawd-awful-time-of-the-Day:

You can probably guess this one Reader.

Yes... simply everytime I sit at this desk facing this monitor... It sort of makes me feel a little like Kitty below...

Next: The Errol Flynn Award goes to.... (drum-roll-trumpet-blare-etc) Terence for that remarkable swish-slash stroke that reduced my potato-chip to mush at that cafe in Valencia... Just look at his double cutlass precision here!
Finally here is the category of Long-Lost-and-Missing-Person :

No ladies and gents, it isn't the elusive Madeleine McCann! So breathe easy. We won't ask you for donations so you don't have to hide away your wallets.

Remember this little guy?
Yes Reader... I report with much distress that the riverman~~~ is missing! I have been trying to track him down over the last couple of days, and I can't seem to locate him anywhere. Remember how he set out on his little oddysey over the billowy desert sands of my bed so long ago?
Well, he hasn't come home yet... and I am getting a little worried. I chanced upon Elleyfaant a couple of days ago and asked him about the riverman~~~.

Elleyfaant simply stared at me and shook his head.

He told me that he was not an elleyfaant. He had discovered that he was a "Twor-tease", and was on a search for his missing shell.

Elleyfaant or Twor-tease... he's not very helpful!

So Reader, the hunt is on for the riverman~~~. Do drop me a line if you see him anywhere, and if you do get a chance to talk to him - tell him he is missed!

In the meantime, play me my birthday song (in the YouTube window above), won't you Reader?!
~~~

Jam

2008-03-31T10:50:00.068Z

I think that my little garden hedgehog has woken up.

Yesterday I walked into my slough-sogged garden and the little scrap of tree bark that had sheltered him from the sleet and snow these many months had been tossed onto the damp dandelion patch. I suppose he got too hungry to wait for the BBC weatherman to officially announce the end of winter.

Taking my prickly friend's cue, my neighbours started demolishing the mossy frost-bitten fence fringing their lawn yesterday, and I swear there was a faint whir of a lawn mower in the air today. Soon patio furniture will be dusted out and washing lines spun out against the sky.

A garden comes to life round about this time in the year. She spends the winter huddled under thick and dreamy duvets, and one miraculous day, She gives a big shuddering yawn, stretches her branches, tosses off her blankets and opens her eyes... and after a little look around, she heaves to her feet and picks up a broom.

I think that I will do the same too! There is much to clean out over the last year. There's that crate of last year's wine-turning-to-vinegar under the kitchen sink and a ton of over-ripened-fruit-jam-jarred in the larder to clear away.

So come on Reader! We will start with the Jam, and maybe leave the wine for next week...

There's some pretty good stuff here in these jars... sweet, tart, tangy and wild. Quite a while and a couple of burnt fingers ago, I ladled multi-coloured-mini-orchards into these pots and now they are a sturdy little demonstration on well-preserved-perseverance (yeah, Corny I know... but I can't resist).

Here's a great recipe for home-made jam courtesy of the riverman~~~. It definitely goes a long-way to sweetening bitterly depressing winter-to-spring days. For those of you who don't know what the hell this recipe is about, please accept my apologies. The riverman~~~ sometimes writes in code just to infuriate you! For the code-breakers (i.e. namely the attendees of last week's welcome feast-fest for Tania at my place)... enjoy!

_______________________________

Ingredients:

(1) Friends (as many as you can get together on a cold and miserable day) Preferably pick the ones that sprout in the wild and are consequentially more sturdily sincere. For a taste of the exotic obtain the ones that grow overseas in sunny tropical climes (they actually taste sweeter!). If you are into the "organic" thing, try to obtain the ones that grow near farmyards (Trish, you know what I mean!). For the best combination for this jam, get a mixture of local, exotic and organic varieties.
(2) Chicken Wings (the sort that only Sarah Lee can make. You know, the sort that you can't stop eating once you start... Yes, the dangerous sort!)
(3) Lurid Green Deck Chairs. (The "Luridder" the better!)
(4) 7 to 8 pots of Earl Grey Tea (Earl Grey, being the only type of tea in my cupboard other than Chamomile)
(5) 1 Bottle of Bubbly (simply for a taste of luxury or for those who can't do without alchoholic infusions)
(6) 2 boxes of Char Siew for taste (and a wave of home-sickness)
(7) 1 tray of Egg-Tarts from Soho bakery ( Try not to eat all of these yourself before you start cooking.)
(8) Kueh Lapis (Guest Starring from Begawan Solo, Singapore)
(9) Crispy Cremes (as a substitute for ssssh-shugggg-a-a-arrr!!)
(10) A cold and rainy March afternoon...

Equally important and vital ingredients:

(11) A mighty splash of Tania's Laughter
(12) A robust dash of Leslie's Pepper-Wit
(13) A blinding flash of Sarah's Culinary Genius
(14) A taste of Animal Husbandry from Trish
(15) A little bit of Japanese Art from Asako
(16) A sliver of Naughtiness from Ling and
(17) A wee bit of "Bob the Builder" from Daniel
(18) One hour's worth of "Shrek"
(19) One DVD player Remote Control
(20) One feature length Cheesy Movie (the cheesier the better, and preferably one involving falling-stars, witches who ride goat-drawn-chariots and Robert De-Niro in a pink-lace-dress).

Instructions:

Sprinkle Friends liberally over Lurid Green Deck Chairs in living room. Toss in Crispy Cremes and Chicken Wings intermittently while maintaining a constant stream of Earl Grey Tea.

Proffer Bubbly to Friends and proceed to drink most of it yourself. Sing Bob-the-Builder as Daniel attempts acrobatics over the Lurid Green Deck Chairs.

Stir in Char Siew and bring the whole mixture to stew over the latest gossip.

Distract John by offering him the DVD Player Remote-Control, and ensure that Daniel survives the evening by playing Shrek.

Slice and dice Trish's Animal Husbandry and mix with Leslie's Pepper Wit until combustible. Slowly add to the mixture until bubbles of Tania's Laughter surface. Then under Sarah's Culinary Genius, whisk in the Kueh Lapis followed quickly by the Egg Tarts. Allow entire mixture to simmer but not boil over.

Throw in Ling's Naughtiness to taste and finally garnish with Asako's Japanese Art on the side. Place mixture in front of the Cheesy Movie and allow jam to set.

Once cool, ladle into jam pots for another day, or if you can't wait - dig in!

Take it from me Reader...

It's totally Yummm!!!

And for the wonderful people who made last weekend such a mad and crazy affair! Thank You!

~~~

A blank page for now...

2008-02-22T13:08:00.029Z

The riverman~~~ has not been writing.

Ah... but you knew that already didn't you Reader? For a good four months, this blog has stayed pin-drop and empty, a roman-ruin of yesteryear's firecracker-echoes. And with each day, the silence drum-drones into a question.

Why?

It isn't unconsciousness.

I have been alive to my feet in my shoes and the busker on the street-corner. I have watched a hundred movies from Malcolm X to Atonement over these months and in the silence after the credits raced a million thoughts around my head - full dizzy and real. I have plugged into the newsfeeds - from the Obama-Clinton titan clash on Super-Tuesday to the pranticks of Amy Winehouse on her routine stumble from crack dealer to the Brits to cider-spilling onto the pavements in Clapham.

It isn't apathy.

I have cringed over the slipperiness of David Cameron. My fists have clenched over the straw-shoved-arguments over section 377A at home. I have a million counter-retorts behind burning lips for the naggy-nonchalence of the Londoner to anything outside the Evening Standard, and rankling anxiety everytime a thwarted terrorist stashes away his holy-book and oils himself in human rights law to slip out of handcuffs.

It isn't non-activity.

There were gun-powder clouds on Guy Fawkes Night and the next morning I surveyed my rocket-shell peppered lawn. There was the Christmas crackling of Lau's roast chicken wafting into to the Auld-lang-syne and frantic phone-calls across time and space and far and near on a cold and damp new year's morning. There was Munich and all its beauty lost on me and the one I love for a week, and the days that flew by too fiendishly quick. There was Valentine's Day, flick-filmsy with rose-scented-cupidious-caprice...

...and now there's today… and maybe an opportunity to sound the bell.

It's not like as though I haven't thought about this blog. The riverman~~~ has wandered into this site several times a week. But everytime I get onto the edit page my fingers stay pin-prick-poised over the keyboard, my eyes sweep over the paper-white screen, my head fills with a blur of images and cacophonous ideas clamouring over only to collapse into a Blank.

Then this overwhelming urge takes over to do anything BUT write, and I simply want to read the BBC newspage or curl in my sofa and watch the new DVD stashed away in my bag with my groceries or pick up the phone and share a joke with a friend or get a couple of mates over for a spontaneous jazz jam or maybe send my battalions of soldiers on a rampage against the warlords in cyberspace.

It is funny! Everytime I think of writing in this blog, there are a million reasons for doing everything else.

You know the saying that you can never ever write a good song if you are absolutely happy? Well, could this be the case here? Wasn't my best composition a result of tear drenched evenings and painful conversations over the what-ifs and could-ifs all through last year?

This year has been the happiest I have ever known and correspondingly the most destitute of melody and rhyme. I started this blog last year, and it was the panacea for all my uncertainty and fear of whatever-would-be and if-it-could-be.

These days I feel certain. I feel sure, and scarily-sure sometimes. Could this be the reason for my online truancy?

Of course, there may be another reason...

"Is there anything in spontaneity?
Is the only way to know
To let the pen and paper go
And do like they say and just be?"

I was reading this little verse yesterday, and it came to me. Maybe it's not the lack of melancholy or artistic suffering. Maybe it's not mundane writer's block. Maybe it's simply the thirst to live… to give into the throb of life and to walk a little in the everyday. Maybe it's the need to give in to the ramalamadingdong and "just be"?

Maybe my inertia of the page allows me my freedom to experience and breathe.

Writing is self-reflection, and perhaps all I am doing is adding to the matters I can reflect on another day and someday. Perhaps these thoughts need to marinate before I wring them out and hang them out to dry. I will need a little more time, and so I beg your indulgence Reader.

See, the riverman~~~'s doing a little Living today.

I never felt magic crazy as this

I never saw moons knew the meaning of the sea

I never held emotion in the palm of my hand

Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree

But now you're here

Brighten my northern sky.

I've been a long time that I'm waiting

Been a long time that I'm blown

I've been a long time that I've wandered

Through the people I have known

Oh, if you would and you could

Straighten my new mind's eye.

Would you love me for my money

Would you love me for my head

Would you love me through the winter

Would you love me 'til I'm dead

Oh, if you would and you could

Come blow your horn on high.

~~~

I saw three ships come sailing in...

2007-11-23T11:05:00.000Z

For the past month or so, I have been doing quite a number of shipping deals, mostly involving LNG carriers, oil tankers and those large container ships - rust-encrusted and nomadic metal coffins bobbing on the high seas carrying everything and anything to anywhere and everywhere.

I never see the actual ship that is the subject of a week's worth of planning and anxiety, but I clink my glass of complimentary champagne in the early hours of the morning in the comfort of my office when I am informed that all is well, and all parties are happy.

Just a couple of days ago, I glanced into the newspapers and saw that one of the "Monsters" I helped "deliver" into the loving arms of a consortium of banks had sailed into the headlines. For a while, as I looked at the picture of the rolling iron behemoth, I must confess Reader that I was actually impressed...

ULSAN, South Korea, Sep 09, 2007 (BUSINESS WIRE) -- Overseas Shipholding Group, Inc.
Overseas Shipholding Group, Inc
Last: 59.07+0.25+0.43%4:03pm 11/20/2007Delayed quote data
Sponsored by:
OSG 59.07, +0.25, +0.4%) announced today the naming of the LNG Carrier Al Gattara, heralding a new generation of Q-Flex Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) carriers - the world's safest, most advanced and largest ships to transport this critical energy source. This vessel is the first in a series of four sister ships to be delivered to OSG Nakilat, the joint venture between OSG and Qatargas Transport Company (Nakilat).

...and then I snapped out of my delirium! Thank God! You can breath a sigh of relief Reader. The riverman~~~ is safe and well!

Lets get one thing straight! I do like ships... but ONLY the ones with SAILS!

Yes, the riverman~~~ is a romantic at heart, and if you know me at all you would know that I love all things from and of the "Age of Sail" (the period between 1739-1815) which also constitutes (in my humble opinion) the height of the 'age of fighting sail' i.e. the age of sailing warships.

This week I would like to pay homage to the great Age of Sail (a wondrous period for all lovers of things maritime and nautical)... more so, since this coming weekend I will be at Portsmouth Harbour visiting the HMS Victory - one of the best known and loved warships ever ... (more on that later!)...

However, instead of plodding through the history of the period which you can easily obtain anywhere else on the web from cleverer and more learned enthusiasts than me (which is something the more doggedly inclined of you will undoubtedly set about doing), I propose to focus on three ships I believe sum up all I that I love and that feeds my imagination about the period.

HMS Endeavour

This was a true explorer's ship, and was captained by Captain James Cook, probably best known for his exploration in the Aussie-New-Zealand area. To the world, the Endeavour's voyage was a scientific expedition to observe an eclipse of Venus, June 1769, but secretly it was a commission by the English admiralty to find a mysterious southern continent, which had already been discovered and visited by Dutch explorers between 1605 - 1636. This secret commission effectively led Cook to explore New Zealand, Tasmania and Australia.

The ship nearly went down on the coral reefs north of Botany Bay, and many of her crew died of fever when she headed further north to Batavia (i.e. Indonesia), the political and commercial centre of the VOC in Asia, before finally heading for home.

The Endeavour was a solid, broad beamed and shallow draught Whitby collier, an all round excellent ship for exploration as fully recognized by James Cook, who said "A better ship for such service I never could wish for".

This ship is very special to me as it was also the first ship that I ever built a wood model of. It was the first time I tackled a wooden model, and it was a little bit of an exploratory voyage of sorts for me into the splinter-filled world of carpentry. It took up most of my summer holidays for a year and was an exercise in the virtue it was named after. It wasn't the best wooden model ship ever made, but it is still standing and holding sound on a shelf at home.

HMS Bounty

Ah! Notoriety... Notoriety! Adventure and Mutiny! The Bounty has it all!! The tale of the Mutiny on HMS Bounty has been told and retold through the ages, with some understandable embellishment.

You must have heard of the grand saga Reader. Why! The cast of characters on board HMS Bounty was remarkable as the ship itself.

You had William Bligh, the Captain of the expedition, who was born September 9, 1754. He was somewhat heavily built and below average in height (a little bit Napolenic too!), with black hair, blue eyes and a pale complexion. He gained a reputation in the Royal Navy for having a volatile temper and he used foul language when angered (and according to ship records, that happened very often!).

Starring opposite Bligh was Fletcher Christian, who was born in Cumberland on September 15, 1764, was from a well-to-do family and was a little bit of a Mam's-boy as well! He went to sea at the age of sixteen, and two years later he sailed aboard HMS Cambridge where he met William Bligh for the first time. Christian was about five feet nine inches tall (I guess sailors in those days were pretty short!) with a dark complexion and (according to the dockyard wenches) well muscled. He was sometimes described as swashbuckling, a slack disciplinarian, a great favourite with the ladies, conceited but also mild, generous, open and humane.

HMS Bounty sailed from Spithead, England on December 23, 1787 with Bligh and a crew of 45 men bound for Tahiti. Their mission was to collect breadfruit plants to be transplanted in the West Indies as cheap food for the slaves. After collecting those plants, Bounty was underway toward home, when, on the morning of April 28, 1789, Fletcher Christian and part of the crew mutinied, took over the ship, and set the Captain and 18 members of the crew adrift in the ship’s 23-foot launch (a small boat) which according to Bligh, did not even contain enough food and water for the men on board.

The cruelty of Bligh was blamed for the mutiny. Once cast off his ship, the captain sailed the launch and 17 of the crew 3618 miles back to civilization. The mutineers took HMS Bounty back to Tahiti, and, with 6 Polynesian men and 12 women, took the ship to the isolated site at Pitcairn Island. After burning the ship, they established a settlement and colony on Pitcairn Island that still exists.

My adventure with the HMS Bounty started at the age of nine, when I read a book which featured Fletcher Christian's exploits and told of Captain Bligh's cruelty to his men on board. At that time I was just interested in the romance of a mutiny and the exploration of Tahiti and the outlying islands close to it. Years later I visited the greenhouses in Kew in London and saw first hand the almost- fabled "breadfruit trees" that Bligh brought back from Tahiti.

HMS Victory

HMS Victory is the Royal Navy's most famous warship. She is the world's oldest commissioned ship and a wonderful memorial to Vice Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson, probably Britain's greatest Naval hero. She stands proud in her home in Portsmouth, No. 2 dry dock, and remains one of the most famous warships ever built.

Built between 1759-1765, HMS Victory was a first-rate, "ship-of-the-line" (meaning: a warship armed powerfully enough to take a position in the line of battle).

In 1805, Nelson on board his flagship, HMS Victory, led 27 British ships into battle off Cape Trafalgar against a much larger combined French and Spanish fleet. With Nelson's inspired leadership, the British won a great victory and the Battle of Trafalgar has become a defining moment in British history. So defining that a massive memorial to Nelson stands in Trafalgar Square today. Nelson however paid the ultimate price - he was struck by a single bullet as he paced the quarterdeck with his captain, Thomas Hardy, and in true mythological fashion, he survived just long enough to learn the outcome of the battle.

HMS Victory is a wondrous work of engineering and art. Three gun decks bristling with cannons on both sides, 3 main masts and a bowsprit... Over 26 miles of rigging and nearly 5,500 metres of canvas in the 37 sails, the largest of which is still in existence in a museum in Portsmouth (complete with over 90 shot holes). The ship was built from mainly oak, but also elm and fir, from an estimated 6000 trees.

The thing that captures my imagination most vividly is the Victory´s main guns and how they may have worked in action. The Victory had three types of guns. There were 12 pounders (on the top deck), 24 pounders (on the middle deck) and 32 pounders (from the bottom deck). The biggest gun was called a carronade and named aptly, "The Smasher". Once the powder hole had been filled, it was fired by a slow match or flintlock. The cartridge and shot were laid by a rammer after cartridge fragments had been removed by the worm, and the damp sponge had put out any sparks there might be in the barrel.

Ah yes, the riverman~~~ has spent many hours in maritime museums and nautical-souvenir shops gazing at models of this particular ship. The Victory is definitely my favourite ship and sums up all that captures me about the age of fighting sail. It jolts me when I close my eyes and imagine tired and grimy men running between the ship's guns under-deck, heaving sweat-drenched pound-shot balls in quick sucession into steaming cannon barrels... or the whiz and tear of chain-shot against the smoke stained sails... the taste of the salt of the sea mingled with the salt of sweat... and all the time the creak and grind of the iron bones of the ship as it rocks and rolls over choppy waves...

...and then I open my eyes and find myself staring at a 60-page sale agreement for a container ship ploughing it's course through the waters of Korea, and breathe in deeply and sigh!

Well Reader... such is life! Guess I will put away my compass and sextant for today, throw down my anchor and pull out my Chitty!

~~~

Autumn in-between

2007-11-19T13:28:00.000Z

AAAAARGH! Facebook... Facebook!! What hast thou done to me??? Thou swell... thou pretty... thou sweet... thou witty-maleficent-knavish work of art!

Yes, Reader I have been imprisoned in the charms of Facebook and guarded by an army of its applications... finger shackled to its little impudent poking games, splattered with sploches of Graffiti on my SuperWall and innundated with Growing Gifts, Hatching Eggs and those gawd-awful grinning Pumpkins!

Somewhere between fighting off the Sith; slinging sheep at my friends; surfing the waves of virtual Booze and swimming against the tide of trout-slaps... I realised to my horror that I had a long-suffering blog sitting and waiting quietly on the shores of Forgottenmore.

So I have stuffed Facebook away in a cupboard, and come back home to Bloggerland to update you on the riverman~~~ and the Autumn in-between.

Ah! The pretty picture that is Autumn! She comes around with a kick in the air and a crunch under feet.

Summer technically turned into Autumn for the riverman~~~ when I stopped by the side of the road on a little grass verge beside the road and took a picture of this little leafy mosiac, and didn't even realise that Sarah, John and Danny boy were sitting in a car chuckling away at my little attempt at artistry.

Blame it on the cinnamon-apple in the air... for Autumn makes fools of us all, and the riverman~~~ is an autumn creature, and has always been!

Autumn is the time for country walks and sweet ripe apples in your pockets.

Autumn is a time for raking in the garden and discovering hedghogs under trees.

Autumn is acorns on the ground and nuts on the table.

Autumn is blue jays and cardinals and robins and doves.

Autumn is a festival of trees in competitive costume: scarlet-n-russet, burgundy -n-brick, pumpkin-n-orange, copper-n-crimson-n-burnished-amber-gold.

Autumn means friends around a fire and a bowl of mulled wine... and most of all...

... Autumn is a time for stories... and here is one of the riverman~~~'s favourites:

The anxious little leaf

Once upon a time a little leaf was heard to sigh and cry, as leaves often do when a gentle wind is about. And the twig said, "What is the matter, little leaf?" And the leaf said, "The wind just told me that one day it would pull me off and throw me down to die on the ground!"

The twig told it to the branch on which it grew, and the branch told it to the tree. And when the tree heard it, it rustled all over, and sent back word to the leaf, "Do not be afraid. Hold on tightly, and you shall not go till you want to."

And so the leaf stopped sighing, but went on nestling and singing. Every time the tree shook itself and stirred up all its leaves, the branches shook themselves, and the little twig shook itself, and the little leaf danced up and down merrily, as if nothing could ever pull it off. And so it grew all summer long, till October.

And when the bright days of autumn came the little leaf saw all the leaves around becoming very beautiful. Some were yellow and some scarlet, and some striped with both colors. Then it asked the tree what it meant. And the tree said, "All these leaves are getting ready to fly away, and they have put on these beautiful colors because of joy."

Then the little leaf began to want to go, too, and grew very beautiful in thinking of it, and when it was very gay in color it saw that the branches of the tree had no bright color in them, and so the leaf said, "O branches! why are you lead-color and we golden?"

"We must keep on our work-clothes, for our life is not done - but your clothes are for holiday, because your tasks are over," said the branches.

Just then a little puff of wind came, and the leaf let go without thinking of it, and the wind took it up and turned it over and over, and whirled it like a spark of fire in the air, and then it dropped gently down under the edge of the fence, among hundreds of leaves, and fell into a dream, and it never woke up to tell what it dreamed about.

~~~

2007-10-28T13:24:00.001Z

Life in cartoon motion...

2007-10-07T09:53:00.000Z

Last week I finally managed to download and watch Michael Bay's "Transformers: The Movie"", and no Reader, this post is not going to be a review of that 144 minutes of glorious CGI that left me stunned and speechless for a good half hour after the end credits vanished into darkness, and kept my eyes peeled for Camaros and 18-Wheelers over the next two days on the streets of London.

Yes I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, and yes, unlike many Transformer purists, I have already forgiven Mr Bay for not keeping with "Bumblebee" being a Volkswagen and making "Jazz" sound like a ghetto thug... Instead, I will thank Mr Bay for re-enacting an almost forgotten institution that every child of the 80's would remember with fondness. Cartoons in the 80s were exciting and funny and cheesy and outrageous all at once and (thank God!!) made long before political correctness went silly. It was the standard routine to rush back after a morning session of school, mop up as much homework as you could before 4 pm and then plonk in front of the television for a daily inoculation of MASK, HE-Man, Masters of the Universe, Scooby-Doo, Tiny Toons, Dinosaucers, Dungeons and Dragons, Count Duckula, Heathcliff... awwwww Lo-o-oord! The list could go on and on and on...

Funny thing I realise now - I probably never watched any cartoons before the 80s. Cartoons were always frowned upon in my family as being violent and brash splashes of colour that kept me from completing my Math homework, and so I had to watch them on the sly. My mother kept me under very close scrutiny throughout my primary school days, and my TV diet then consisted of Michael Landon's Little House on the Prairie at 7.30 pm garnished with two little squares of a Cadburys Fruit and Nut Bar before I went to bed. Yes, those were the days when I was made to go to bed at 8.30, and I invariably fell asleep and into dreams of running through daisy dusted meadows and fishing in creeks chock full of little trout. I got a little Mickey Mouse from time to time of course, but my exposure to animation was set firmly within the boundaries of wholesome Disney for a good while, until I turned 12.

My most vivid memories of my secondary school days include me and my sister sitting in my living room, our eyes fastened on a flashing cartoon, and our ears straining towards the front door for footsteps or a jangle of keys. The moment I heard any kerfuffle behind the door, it was all systems go for the both of us. Operation Cover Up was a marvel of skill and speed - rivalling even good ol' Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael and Michaelangelo in all their "Turtle Power". Within three seconds, I would fling myself towards the power point and flick the switch off; my sister would smooth out the couch free of any tell-tale creases; and the piece of genius I was responsible for was the cold wet cloth we kept nearby, which we very quickly draped over the top of the TV for a whole two seconds to cool off the hot surface. My father would come home, and among the first habitual things he did after he took off his shoes, was to run his hand over the top of the TV to detect if we had been watching those confounded cartoons again. Naturally, if Operation Cover Up failed (as it did on more than one occasion) we resorted to Operation Run Away... which was a last ditch effort to escape the "rotan" (a long thin bamboo-like stick my father kept in his room) which had no difficulty in finding out the location of our most tender and sensitive skin. Ouch!!!

So what was your favourite 80s cartoon Reader? Didn't you just LOVE those theme songs!? Can you remember this one?

Masked Crusaders, working overtime, Fighting crime, fighting crime!

Secret Raiders who will neutralise, as soon as they arrive (at the site!)

Trakkers gonna lead the mission...

And Spectrum's got such super vision!

Muh Muh Muh Muh M.A.S.K!!

It's the mighty power that can save the day...

Muh Muh Muh Muh M.A.S.K!!!

No-one knows what lies behind the masquerade...

Muh Muh Muh Muh M.A.S.K!!!

Always riding hot on Venom's trail...

Come see the laser rays...

Fire-away!!!

Or what about this?

Life is like a hurricane
here in Duckburg

Race cars, lasers, aeroplanes -

it's a duck blur

You might solve a mystery

or rewrite history Duck Tales, Oo-oo

Tales of daring-do, bad and good luck tales, oo-oo

...D-d-d-danger, watch behind you -

there's a stranger out to find you

What to do? Just grab onto some Duck Tales, oo-oo!

Not pony tails or cotton tails but Duck Tales, oo-oo!

Or this one:

Heathcliff, Heathcliff, no one should
Terrify their neighborhood

But Heathcliff just won't be outdone

Playing pranks on everyone...
...The gang will reign supreme

And no one can deny

They'll make some history

And always have an alibi
So join in the jubilee

The cats are great, they'll all agree

You'll find in each calamity

The cat's superiority

Oh....

Remember the time when it was all about these little blue creatures in the forest?

La, la, la, la, la, la, sing a happy song

La, la, la, la, la, la, Smurf the whole day long

(whistle) - Smurf along with me

(whistle) - simple as can be

Next time you're feeling blue just let a smile begin

Happy things will come to you so Smurf yourself a grin.

(Gargamael speaks) "Ooh, I hate Smurfs! I'll get you, I'll get all of you, If it's the last thing I'll ever do!"

La, la, la, la, la, la, now you know the tune

La, la, la, la, la, la, you'll be Smurfing soon.

and remember when every one knew the words to this one:

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,

Heroes in a half shell

Turtle power!

Splinter taught them to be ninja team,(he's a radical rat)

Leonardo lead's, Donatello does machines.(that's a fact jack)

Rapheal is cool but crude,(give me a break)

Michaelangelo is a party dude.(party)

Well Reader... what can I say... they don't make 'em now like they used to hey?!

I found these cartoon montages on YouTube, and watched them through with a mixture of nostalgia and embarrassment last night. So, why don't you do the same, and then let me know which ones you still remember and smile about...

And I promise not to laugh if you admit that you liked "My Little Pony and Friends"... (*snicker!!*)

~~~

What makes the evening news?

2007-09-30T15:09:00.000Z

I stood wedged somewhere between Liverpool Street tube station and Waterloo last Friday evening and flicked through the papers. It's the typical "London-thang" to do: attempt to read a newspaper while suspended in an impossible entanglement of arms, feet, scarves and iPods on the way home for the weekend. I shuffled through the sections, and then suddenly the pages flipped up and fairly hit me in the face.

On page 1, a massive picture of a face numb-nailed into every Londoner's mind, and on page 12 just after the one that featured Posh Spice blubbing about missing "Davy-boy" and being oh-so-homesick in L.A. (poor baby!) - a little blurb of an event that almost nobody noticed. (More on that further down this post.)

Meanwhile, I am pleased to inform all concerned parties that the "Amazing Madeleine McCann Glacier" maintained its steady progress as it pushed aside mountains of evidence,and tracked its way from Africa to Portugal and back to London leaving behind widespread devastation and confusion in equal measure and in all directions.

Reader, did I hear you right? YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT MADDIE McCANN??? Well now, that is impossible! You must be mistaken... Land sakes Love! How could you presume to be knowledgeable about world affairs otherwise! Let me jog your memory.

Maddie McCann: that delightful little girl brutally snatched away from the loving arms of her two wonderful and caring professional parents on an innocent holiday in Portugal earlier this year by some undoubtedly depraved foreigner with nefarious intentions involving a number of Lithuanian mafia clans and a link to an African pedophilic ring or two? Remember how her poor careful parents left their little "blond-eyed-and-blue-haired-Gem" sleeping in her bed in their holiday flat, and went out to swill a little wine with their friends over a tortilla or two, only to return to find her missing? Oh, the unimaginable horror that must have been!! It is no wonder they spent all that time and money travelling to Rome to secure the Pope's divine blessings on a polaroid snapshot of their lost lamb, and then proceeded to hire every editor in Fleet Street to plaster those polaroids in every conceivable corner of the civilised world... I suppose, ANYONE would go a little crazy if they misplaced their daughter.

Why didn't they get a baby-sitter if they wanted to go out on their own on that night when little Maddie went AWOL? We-e-e-ll, re-e-eally now, I am not sure... but then again, the poor-poor precious Darling was snatched away from her BED!! How DARE you even insinuate any form of negligence here! Both parents are DOCTORS for goodness sake! Have you ever heard of doctors being negligent???

And just for the record, I am most definitely not sure about that report on sedatives being found in the DNA samples in that car-booth. You know... DNA samples are RE-E-EALLY tricky things and can be left in so many ways. DNA traces can even transmit from a secondary source like a squishy-soft-toy or the leather cover of a bible for instance. In fact, my very extensive knowledge of DNA leads me to believe that DNA can transmit from almost anything and from absolutely no-where! Scary huh?! Well, if you don't believe me, go and watch Season 3 of CSI Miami Episode 6. You simply must do your research before you read the newspapers.

Reader, it is very important to familiarise yourself with all the facts of the case before you jump to any conclusions. The press have been really helpful here and published maps and daily satellite snap-shots of the resort where little Maddie vanished. It's wonderful what technology can do today, isn't it! I mean, we even get to see what their swimming-pool looks like! Cool hey?

What did you say?? What makes Madeleine different from all the other children that go missing every day in the UK?? Goodness, how heartless you are!! Just look at those mournfully pretty eyes under those lovely lashes. Just how many children like that have you seen in the missing-people-pages on the local council's walls??? Furthermore, her mother really knows how to dress for the camera... and surely that can't hurt! Tell me honestly: Can you look at that picture (a copy of which I have - by the way - staring at me from the coffee corner in my office) , and say that you honestly DON'T CARE???!!!

Oh, and by the way, you simply have to stop calling the poor thing "Madeleine"... I mean, her parents call her "Maddie", and it would be just so cold and clinical to call her "Madeleine"... I mean she's practically become our own little girl after all these months, don't you think?

Oh, and now we hit page 12! And what's this thing we hear about this place called Burma??...?

... and errrr... by the way, can anyone tell me: where exactly is Burma?

~~~

Ad rem...

2007-09-21T10:47:00.000Z

Awww... hang all snively apologies! Yes - yes... call me irresponsible, shower me with your titters and tut-tuts and dismiss me to the flames of Blogger-Hell, but let me assure YOU - faithful Reader that the riverman~~~ is back with a vengeance... armed and not a little dangerous... rigged-out with a revitalised PC medicated with all manner of antivirus protections and, yes, pin-pricking-prepared to wreak havoc on the web yet again.

So away with anymore delay... let's dive into the update:

This is the riverman~~~'s new office...

...and therefore the place you will most likely find the riverman~~~ nowadays. Yes, it is beside a very big wharf, and yes, it is all very new and clean and tall and glassy and yes, it reflects the sky and its windows open into spectacular views of more windows that open into sterile grey towers where, yes, rows and rows of oppressed bankers huddle into their grey suits and stare into flickering screens where neon figures crawl up and down and from side to side, and yes, they forget the sunshine on grassy parks outside, the shimmer on the Thames and the yes, even the weekend jazz band that blares out a little summer into the air and drums a little heartbeat into the concrete...

But YES, rest assured though: the riverman~~~ stays the riverman~~~, and no ship-closing-deadline, two-week-long-training-programme or raspy throat from late night cafeteria pasta will divert me from the little things that make me grin... the things I hope you take time to grin about too!

Here are just a few examples:

The pub just 500 metres away from my desk... (yes, I measured!)... You simply KNOW you HAVE to go in!

Sexy Madame Moggy who sashays over to wish me good morning before I leave for work...

See, even strawberries have a sense of humour... I simply have to decide to notice...

It's a kind of magic that transforms greasy potato chips into light sabres...

And if all else fails, and the thought of yet another weekend in the office buried under paper and studying for an exam brings me down, I simply remember that I still have wonderful friends to spend my Friday evening with, drinking up the bar and realising how happy I am to be alive...

There now, becha you're smiling! Now, go get back to work! See you next week! Yes... yes... I promise!

(Oh, and by the way, I finally saw Harry Potter 5 last week... and in commemoration of that over-postponed and long awaited pleasure, I have embedded two very irreverent homages to the films for you to enjoy... so do!)

~~~

The Days of Wine and Roses

2007-09-03T23:22:00.000Z

Reader, these are magic days... soaking up sunshine, probing the politics of the garden squirrel gangs, conjuring clouds into cats'n'cushions, weaving daisies into dilly-daydreams... and allowing the hours to flit-flutter away so quickly... much-too-much-too-quickly...

Then the evening sunset arrives, performs her alchemy... and diva-like slips away before we can ask for an encore... pulling a cloak of stars around her. Ah yes Reader... and now I have this grabbing urge to rummage into my dusty childhood for that warm wonderful song...

Now how did it go...? Oh yes...

The days of wine and roses,

Laugh and run away,

Like a child at play,

Through a meadowland,

Toward a closing door,

A door marked never more,

That wasn't there before.

The lonely night discloses,

Just a passing breeze,

Filled with memories,

Of the golden smile,

That introduced me to,

The days of wine and roses,

And you!

I pottered around on the Internet today and found a wonderful guitar version of this classic song, which is embedded above. Go on Reader and play it... and then close your eyes and imagine sitting back on your deck chair out in the garden in the evening. Come on then, sit beside me, swirl that wine around your glass and watch the night stir into the sky... Now aren't you awake to how alive you are!

How wonderful... how intense... how exhilarating: this dreamy-delirium so peaceful and yet so intense with a sharp nip of caffeine in the side. Oh okay! Hang the attempt at poetry! That "nip" is probably courtesy of a small family of red ants that have made their nest under my table... and *ouch!* those dastardly critters are now attempting to invade my slipper... Fine... fine ...so be it! ...Time to get indoors!

(FYI: Those who know me best are persistently bewildered that the same riverman~~~ who spent more than two years in the Singapore army feeding leeches and eating fruit bats, is frightened of flying cockroaches, bee stings and red ant bites! It is a measure of my special regard for you Reader, that I make this confession here, to the detriment of any reputation I may still have!)

And as sure as I will continually get chased back into my house by marauding ants that pitch camp under my garden furniture... these Days of Wine and Roses, as glorious and as warm as they are now, will end.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,

Love and desire and hate;

I think they have no portion in us after

We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:

Out of a misty dream

Our path emerges for a while, then closes,

Within a dream.

(1867-1900) (From Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam)

And in a couple of weeks I will put away the barbecue grill, fold away the patio umbrellas and take down my autumn jacket from the top shelf of my cupboard. But for today, I raise my glass to magnificent summer memories... to "livin' easy... jumpin' fish and cotton so high...." ...and to "lazy-hazy-crazy-red, pink-n-polka-dotted-skies" and the "Slam-Bang-ALA-CA-ZAMMM-of-it-all"!!

Yes Reader - Here's to the Days of Wine and Roses...

Now drink up... don't waste a drop... and then pour us another glass each!

*HIC!!!*

~~~

Simple and Beautiful

2007-08-22T23:03:00.000Z

I was walking in the Bavarian forests in the outskirts of Munich just a little while ago (and no Tania... not the one inhabited by those fabled "little black bears"!). There is something of the "Brothers Grim" in the forests in Bavaria, and your imagination flutters ahead of you urging your eyes to conjure every tree into a wizard... every flower into a faerie.

Everything in Nature is lyrical in its ideal essence... tragic in its fate... comic in its existence... Somewhere along the dirt forest floor beneath the leaf-flecked sky I picked up a little work of art - a collection of six pebbles. Simple and beautiful! And as I held that little mosaic masterpiece in my palm, I had to smile. Six singular volumes of lithic-literature! What stories would they have to tell? If I put them close to my ear and kept really quiet and listened really hard, perhaps I would hear them whisper...

Do you remember your first lessons in geography in secondary school when you clustered around your teacher and learnt "that rocks come in three basic forms: igneous, sedimentary and metamorphic". I prefer to remember what a very wise person told me "Rocks go wherever they want, and no one can stop them. If you see a rock anywhere, it's there because it wants to be." And as I look at the six smooth adamantine gems in my hand, I know somehow in my heart that they wanted to be where I found them...

There is a deep power that rushes and roars beneath the smooth ripples of a river, and yet hides behind the turn of a leaf and between the rings within a tree's trunk... There is a flawless and simple eternity of wisdom that our busy minds attempt to convolute into equations, and we fail to understand... and fail again and yet again. It is the same magic that coaxes daffodils into the Spring air every year... that sculpts each snowflake... that wrings tears from a cello and that teaches the most hurt of hearts to dare to love again.

And as I look at these six pebbles in my hand, each kneaded, chiseled and personalised out of the myriad combinations of terrain, gradient and earth from places I have never known and may never ever see in my lifetime, I know that this same wonderful and unexplainable magic brought them to me.

I will not attempt to understand. I will simply hold them and smile.

So simple... and beautiful.

flawless light in a darkening air alone...
and shining there
love will not elude you
love is simple

i worship this tenacity and
the beautiful struggle we're in
love will not elude us
love is simple

be sure to know
that all in love
is ours
and love, as a philosophy
is simple

i am calm in oblivion calm,
as i ever have been
love will not elude me
love is simple

be sure to know that all in love is ours...
is ours...
that all in love is ours
and love, as a philosophy is simple...
and ours...

~~~

Raindrops

2007-08-15T17:32:00.000Z

It's getting pretty cold nowadays.

Nature's all Tooth 'n' Claw today, and I am allowing her to bite deep. It's that familiar drudgy mucky cusp between summer and autumn. So, I stand in my doorway and watch sweeping rains wash away the evidence of last weekend's summer barbecue, and beat and stir the grass into a little lake in the middle of my garden.

In a little while when the clouds dissolve into the night and the cricket choir under my neighbour's hedge takes up the chorus... I will curl in front of my little clay pot fire and start on that book my friend loaned me - a promise of floppy dog-eared companionship for the rest of the night. But for now, I will do a little indoor laundry and string out a few words on this post to dry.

Here is an almost Forest Gump type quote: “Life is like a rainbow. You need both the sun and the rain to make its colours appear.” So I do not begrudge the rain when it falls, and the best thing one can do when it is raining is simply to let it rain.

It's like that grand song:

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed,

Nothin' seems to fit

Those raindrops are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'

So, I just did me some talkin' to the sun

And I said I didn't like the way he got things done,

Sleepin' on the job
Those raindrops are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'

But there's one thing I know

The blues they send to meet me won't defeat me

It won't be long 'til happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red

Cryin's not for me

'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'

Because I'm free

Nothin's worryin' me

I can't really say in all honesty that "nothin's worrying me". See Reader, tomorrow I leave for Munich... and those of you who know me best know just why I am going and what it means to me. My mind's a mighty muddle right now of "Should-and-Could-and-Will-it-all-work-out", and as much as I shout the proverbial Que-Sera-Sera over all the confusion, I can't seem to drown the clamouring kerfuffle of the dizzilion-dissonant voices in my head...

Decisions are scary things, and I am pretty much at a personal crossroads of sorts... It is unbelievably difficult to turn the other cheek to the blows of insecurity... Then there is the fear of being hurt, and knowing that being hurt is part of Love and Life in all its gritting beauty. But in the same way that I watched summer giving up her fight today, my brain's wearing down, and my heart is beginning to speak.

And I know that one way or another, whatever-will-be, will all come to Be... It's as invariable and as certain as those raindrops which will keep a-falling...

~~~

Discoveries while Unemployed.

2007-08-10T14:17:00.000Z

It's been almost a week since my last day at work at SJ Burnout, and I have discovered a few things:

(1) Daytime TV in London plain sucks!

(2) Sleeping through the afternoon on one day f*cks up a day's sleep patterns... which only makes you want to dance away that night like a demon and f*ck up yet another week's worth of shut-eye...

(3) There are only so many times you can play and replay the campaigns on Rome-Total War (that's a computer RTS war game for the uninitiated!) before you see little red dots scurrying around every time you close your eyes, and your dreams include charging cavalry slashing their way through the long overgrown grass in your garden, and battalions of legionaries overtaking and killing your neighbour's cat...

Worst of all Reader, I have a terrible confession! See that Total War game was going so magnificently in my favour that I clean forgot that yesterday was my country's national day!!! ALAMAK! So while some of you did that little Stand-up-for-Singapore-routine and scanned the skies for fireworks and screaming aircraft, I buried myself in my computer and schemed world domination over sprawling and scrawling green and red megabytes...

Such idle behaviour riverman!!! You should be ashamed of yourself!!!

(Oh.. But just in case you wanted to know: I slaughtered the Britons, routed the Germans and smeared the remains of the Thracians all over Carthage... [insert very very evil laughter here...])...Not bad for two days of Napoleonic ambition!

I know... I know Reader: I do need to channel my blood-lust in a more productive way!

See here... it does not help in the least that I have navigated the Harry Potter Seven-Book-Odyssey, and no, I will not spoil it for the rest of you who may be still clambering over the rocky ridges and plot-holes and stumbling towards the ráison d'etre of Ms Rowling's universe. So, take your time fellow pilgrims. It is worth it all!

And when you reach the very last words of the last chapter, and that sick'n' sour withdrawal sets into your stomach as you contemplate summers without those delicious wedges of Harry and Volderrr...He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named; go over to your bookshelf and pull out the very first in the septology - "Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone" and start all over again just as I have done today.

Pretty little dreamers we are, aren't we?!

There's a little more excitement on the horizon however.... Yes, and since all great things should be repeated, especially when one is unemployed and with nothing better to do...

JUNGLE JAZZ FEVER

31st August 2007.

Melaka at 27 Ropemaker's Field E14 8BX

Tel: 020 7536 9256
Nearest station: WestFerry DLR

Music starts at 8.30 pm and continues till late
(or at least until the beer barrels run dry!)

From the same outrageous bunch that brought you the Summer Jazz Jam a couple of months back, here is yet another opportunity to jive with Gary aka Bob who promises to drum up Afro-Latino rhythms that Big Foot could dance the salsa to; Melf who will work a fever all over those bass frets to keep up with Adam's flying fingers, and Gracie who promises to skit 'n' scat 'n' "outdo-the -cats" till the wee hours of the morning...

Come on over and have fun!

~~~

Here goes...

2007-08-06T10:37:00.000Z

This post marks the end of a little era.

It has been a manic six months... and a lot of it has been agonizing work and terrible hours. Yes, I have ranted and raved about the underpaid and tepid state of my "winter of discontent" in SJ Burnout, but now as I prepare to vacate my office I remember these moments and smile...

Lunches at Stanleys, cigarettes by the riverside in the afternoon and evening, beers at O'Neils before heading back to my desk, conversations at the Banker, fish and chips on Friday, coffee and hot chocolate downstairs by the lift lobby, walks across Southwark Bridge, strawberries on the patch of green under the trees along Upper Thames Street, Pret a Manger sandwiches, soup and bread in the evenings, San Miguel beer bottles beside the break-out area, pirates summer partying on a boat, gin & tonics at The Golden Fleece, gargantuan guacamole wraps, lunch invite e-mails, Sunny rooftops, very violent table tennis, very very violent table football, Binny on the dance floor, Gracey on the Karaoke mics, Terence on the carpet, Aileen with Vietnamese rice rolls, Chongster and his "hey Mate...M-M-M-MMate!!", Matt with a football on the grass, Arun and his "thyroid problem"...

... and I am grateful for them. But for these foolish things - SJ Burnout may have washed me out as well... Thank you, you wonderful people for making these days bearable, and I will miss you!

You definitely changed my world!

Arrru-u-u-u-u-nn!!!

Let me sing you the RGS song...

Gotta end the PAIN!

Taxi rides are for hugs!

Strike a pose! (Not very) VOGUE!!

CHONGSTER M..m..m..mMate...

Charlies Angels with Charlie's favourite angel in the middle...

Actually I had no idea who those two pouters were...

... but if you can't hold your Sake - join them lah!

One more for Charlie!

A very tired angel...

Three little maids from school ...

... and then, there were two...

... and two more...

And so all good things come to an end!

Ta Ta!
~~~

On the drive home...

2007-08-02T09:47:00.000Z

Beer makes you sleepy... and think too much!

I realise this after I squeeze my way out of a bar, hug my mates goodnight and amble down Tottenham Court Road towards the Tube station under a blanket of lethargy. I manage around 100 metres and then succumb to the soft leather seats of one of the black cabs parked along the road. Remarkable how cleverly those little devils position themselves on route to public transport from a watering hole... Cheeky b*stards!

I lie back on the seat and close my eyes, and somewhere between the on-off-on-'n'-doze, my mind goes a-wandering... and it settles now on a little question has been eating away at me for the last week or so. Maybe you can help me with it Reader!

Tell me: Can you ever learn to love and trust someone all over again?

A little over year or so ago, I wrote a little song. It was a tribute I had written to eight years of love and longing across space and time between me and the person I had hoped to spend the rest of my life with.

Tonight I recall that wintry fall

when I fell in love and I knew

that only you were what I'd been waiting forever for

to fall in love all over again.

The way that your eyes reflected the skies

and brightened up every room, and made everything bloom all around me, as far as I could see...

I'd fall in love all over again...

How much of Love is Trust? Is one the product of the other?

Someone once told me that if you love someone, you can decide to trust them i.e. that love creates the decision to trust. The question is whether Trust can create the decision to Love. I have always believed that you can trust someone and love them but they don't go together necessarily - you have to build Trust but Love is unexplainable... you simply know it's there.

I have been thinking of my mother and father recently. Thirty years of marriage have welded them in symbiosis. What started off as an arranged marriage between two very different people, has probably concluded in what I could cynically call a "collaborative companionship", and yet, there is no mistaking the depth of feeling and tenderness between them whenever I see them together. The only word I have to describe that magic would be "Love". When I asked my mother if she loved my father when they first got married, she answered truthfully, "I learned to love him." In her case, Love seemed to be a decision, and as much of a decision as I believe Trust is.

What happens when Trust is broken? Does Love automatically die with it, or does it remain in some desperate form - straining against the weight of reality and clinging on to fragments of history? If I can will myself to Trust, can I will myself to Love?

So how do we know, just where we may go?

Does the way we've come so far give a clue?

For every goodbye and every Hello,

just promise me one thing that we'd do:

That through each passing year, cloudy or clear

we'd hold to what we know is true, and me and you

together, we'd outdo the weather.

We'd fall in love all over again....

I write these words down, and stretch them out in front of me - a jigsaw of investigation... but behind all the intellectualising and shotgun-philosophy, I am aware that the truth that really matters in all this confusion is my heart - and my heart is simple. My heart does not intellectualise and at this point in time it tells me the truth.

It tells me that I am afraid.

Afraid to trust, and afraid to love. Afraid because I have been hurt, and afraid because it's a horrible thing to be hurt by someone you trust.

Still I know in the deepest part of myself that even if it cannot be willed, Love means exposing yourself to the pain of being hurt, and possibly deeply hurt by someone you trust. It is no wonder that the term is "falling in love" - for there is a helpless abandonment of reason and calculation and a recognition that you will lose control. It is a terrifying surrender to not-knowing how and when and why, but simply letting go.

So Reader, let's put away all this philosophic contention of what constitutes Love and Trust. The real question is whether I dare to fall - Fall and possibly get hurt.

Well, I know one sure fire way to pump up the dare-devil in you and me Reader! What say we get out of this taxi at the next pub and get another pint just before we try the bungees over Canary Wharf!?

~~~

We will miss you Matt!

2007-07-31T08:52:00.000Z

It's really quiet today in the office. I have suddenly realised what a noisy machine my computer is. It is probably fitting that after the sweatshop slavery and the giddy gallery of interviews over the past month, that I should learn to appreciate "Lie quiet Divus"... but I can't help it! I really do miss Matt!

My room mate Matt has left for the BVI, and before he bid his final tearful adieu at the barbeque I held last weekend, he obligingly bequeathed me his legacy of precedant documents in a big grey file which I have propped up like a tombstone on my shelf... hopefully not the sole testament to our six months together.

No, when I remember Matt I want to remember us hanging outside O'Neils and inside The Golden Fleece for a pint (or five) before heading into work after lunch... barbequeing spicy chicken wings on a summer's day under a blue sky... drinking a gallon of Pimms... head-banging to U2... dancing madly to Queen in an 80s club near St Paul's...

So Matty-boi, this is my little farewell to you simply for auld lang syne: a little something for you to remember us by as well. Yes, I will most probably find that block of documents you gave me very useful, but see mate, these pictures will always make me smile!

Take care Matty dear! And do keep in touch! Keep waltzing in the BVI... and don't drink too much "toddy"!

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong,
Under the shade of a coolibah tree, And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled "Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?" Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled, "Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?" Along came a jumbuck to drink at the billabong, Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee, And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag, "You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me". Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag, "You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?". Up rode the squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred, Down came the troopers, one, two, three, "Whose is that jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?""You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me". Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me Up jumped the swagman, leapt into the billabong, "You'll never catch me alive," said he, And his ghost may be heard as you pass by the billabong, "Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me". Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me And his ghost may be heard as you pass by the billabong, "Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?"

~~~

NEWS!

2007-07-25T14:40:00.000Z

Ladies and Gents, Boys and Girls - the lo-o-o-o-o-ng silence is over. Let's get the latest report underway, which I will keep short and sweet:

(1) I have been offered fantastic offers from two wonderful firms. I am now perusing offer letters and making up my mind.

(2) I have just submitted my resignation letter to "SJ Burn-out" and had a little tete-a-tete with my supervising partner. She actually didn't scream! Sample of said resignation letter in the form I would have preferred to tender it follows:

__________________

SJ Burnout

*********

London

United Kingdom

EC*** ***

July 25, 2007

Dear "Unpersonable B*tch",

As required by my contract of employment, I hereby give you a calendar months' notice of my intention to leave my position as "Ego-massager".

After today's team building meeting, I find myself unable to take this company seriously any longer. I'm afraid I can't take being strategised, reorganised, empowered or re-engineered any more.

While I have a high degree of personal respect for you and the opportunities you have offered me, I am no longer comfortable working for an organization largely populated by politocrats, vengeful rivalries, and fiefdoms reminiscent of imperial Chinese literature. In fact, I dare say that I would rather be tied in a leather bag with ravenous, rabid ocelots than remain at this company any longer than the next four weeks.

You probably realise that I am not the first person to jump off this ship before it sinks. It is my hope that my leaving will save you enough money to install better coffee machines than the ones installed in that mess hall you call a restaurant.

I wish both you and the rest of "SJ Burnout" every good fortune and I would like to thank you for having me as part of your sorry excuse of a team.

Yours in sincere frustration,
"Now-that-I-have-finally-recovered-some-dignity"

______________

In commemoration of my impending escape from the gas chambers of SJ Burnout together with four other inmates, I have embedded a little video of a marching song we have come to love and sing on a regular basis at the parade square...

Last words for my "Camp Kommandant": "F*CK OFF!"

PS: Watch this space for the next update - which will be published very very soon.

~~~

Apologies to all whose sensibilities may be offended by the contents of this post. Blame it on the riverman~~~'s impeded judgement due to extreme irritation.

Pause Button

2007-07-19T13:20:00.000Z

Dear Reader,

It pains me to inform you that I am unable to provide you with a timely update this Friday.

And as I know some of you actually look forward to your weekly riverman~~~ inoculation, I can only assure you that I will be less tardy next week, and that next week's post -

WILL BE a grand update!

So before I leave the office in five minutes for another interview with yet another firm that will doubtlessly promise me the moon and stars in exchange for my lifeless body post a calendar's worth of all-nighters, I will let you watch a little bit of clever naughtiness embedded below and smile.

Alternatively, you can always go Brokeback and herd sheep, cows and pigs... watch Tania's fish till you go dizzy... or help Mr Pacman gobble up those pesky little scurrying blobs - all on the side panel of this page.

I leave it entirely up to you!

Have a good Friday all of you, make sure you misbehave over the weekend... and see you on Monday!

~~~

Quandary!

2007-07-12T15:10:00.000Z

Not very long ago, I stumbled out of Gatwick Airport on a Sunday afternoon, tired out and sick to my teeth of all that plastic food those pastel shrouded Bedouin women on my Emirates flight shovelled into me. It's Thursday evening now, and things have remained status-quo, sans the Bedouin women and the indigestion of course.

I have been shunted from interview to interview, and within the space of three days I have covered 5 firms all claiming to be the best thing since sliced bread, and tackled questions from all directions - both mundane and insane... and asked questions in turn - both banal and inane.

I just escaped a firing squad of smirking partners and am now sitting at my desk, nursing my very fragile bullet-hole-riddled psyche. Right now in the quiet of my room in the office at 10 pm on a Thursday night, my mind is a confusion of "what to do" and "how to decide" and "what to choose"...

Nick Drake got all romantic about making choices:

Which will you go for

Which will you love

Which will you choose from

From the stars above

Which will you answer

Which will you call

Which will you take for

For your one and all

And tell me now

Which will you love the best.

Which do you dance for

Which makes you shine

Which will you choose now

If you won't choose mine

Which will you hope for

Which can it be

Which will you take now

If you won't take me

And tell me now

Which will you love the best.

(check out the very cool and funny YouTube link above to listen to the words)

Well the decision I have is hardly romantic, but nevertheless potentially life changing.

So Reader, I will let Nick go about it the romantic way, and leave

YOU

to tell me what to do!

Oh yeah, and don't give me that crap about everything being subjective and that it all depends on the individual and that it is not your place to tell me what to do... because the riverman~~~ declares that if YOU make the time to read this blog, then YOU have every right to gatecrash my meandering thoughts, and hopefully help me channel them more efficiently.

So go on and be brutally honest!

I am being wooed by 3 suitors - all very different. At this very moment all three are standing outside my door flourishing benefit packages and voluminous pre-nuptial contracts.

(1) Mr Filthy-Rich-Americano: Very prestigious and self-important. A real charmer and bit of a playboy. Lives in a very big marble and glass mansion with plush inch-thick carpeting and with expensive chandeliers lining each corridor and tall Swarovski vases littering each toilet cubicle. Demandingly insists I pledge my all my sleeping hours and weekends to him and swear my undying devotion to massaging his over inflated ego on a daily basis. Promises to wine, dine and blind me with flurries of $$$... which will all be very exciting... but will probably f*ck me over at a moments notice, work me to the marrow and leave me coughing up my lungs from too much stress induced smoking. Will probably refuse to believe it if I turn him down.

(2) Mr Earl-Grey-with-Lemon: Old fashioned and respectable fellow. Believes in fidelity till death. Is a stickler for routine and precedent. Promises me that I will always know what to expect. Lives in an old-fashioned Georgian town house furnished with "the nightingales that sing in Berkeley Square". Is much too old-fashioned and respectable to openly whisper sweet nothings in my ear, but promises me that he loves me enough to give me full medical insurance for the rest of my life with him. Reads the Times, votes Conservative and swears Marks & Spencers is "cool". Will give me a respectable allowance, and will leave me a respectable social calendar of middle/upper-middle-class relatives to celebrate family pot-luck dinners with and leave me respectably bored out of my mind. Will probably be very politely hurt if I turn him down but very predictably move on to the next person on his very old-fashioned list.

(3) Mr Superhero: A helluva good looking crusader for Justice, equipped with a cleft chin and positively overflowing with enthusiasm and ideals. Living in a humble country cottage in the suburbs but dreaming of moving into a mansion one day. Believes he "can fly", but does not have the money to purchase wings (or Red Bull for that matter). Spends most of his time getting ready for his BIG BREAK but getting sidetracked with rescuing kittens up a tree. High on Perspiration but low on Accomplishment... Strong on Aspiration... bordering on Irritation. A dozen plans ... but no idea where to start. Can only promise that he will try his best to give me all I need (so I guess my new car or that Gold Membership at Cannon's gym is out of the question), but pledges very sweetly that all marriage decisions will be made together. Will probably burst into tears if I turn him down.

So what do YOU think? What is a girl to do???

HELP????

Ps: Wonder who the 1000th visitor to this site is going to be!
~~~

And even though everything must change...

2007-07-06T05:31:00.000Z

When I was 19 years old I sat cross legged on the tiled floor of my dorm room at University, and listened enraptured to Oleta Adams sing:

Everything must change
nothing stays the same
everyone must change
no one stays the same
the young become the old
and mysteries do unfold
cause that's the way of time
nothing and no one goes unchanged
there are not many things in life
you can be sure of
except rain comes from the clouds
sun lights up the sky
and hummingbirds do fly

And as Oleta's warm voice filled my room then, I soaked in a very adolescent melancholy (a product of too much heavy reading, too many depressing songs and altogether not enough living), and the young philosopher that I fancied I was nodded sagely to myself, truly believing I understood the depth of the words I heard.

Sixteen years later I hold my head in my hands to shut off the consistent and insistent Tick-Tick-Tock of Time, and fondly long for the "do-you-remember-reunions" and wonder the "what-could-have-beens " and "whatever-happened-tos"... while all around me I realise... Everything HAS Changed.

My mother prepares for retirement, starts talking to her cats and cooking World-Aid amounts of vegetarian food... My father stops dyeing his hair black, hangs up his badminton racquet and starts regular visits to the hospital. My sister marries and buys a house... and I...

... yes, I have changed too.

But just like the rain that comes from the clouds, the sun that lights up the sky and those hummingbirds that fly, here are the things I find have not changed, and the things that keep me coming Home:

(1) Sitting at the Balcony Bar on Orchard Road in the afternoon with a gin & tonic and watching the world go by
(2) The taste of Loy Kee chicken rice
(3) The silly music Citicab/Comfort plays over and over on the telephone as you wait for your taxi booking to be confirmed.
(4) The fact that my mum's chicken curry is still the best in the world!
(5) The crisp taste of an ice cold Tiger Beer at the Singapore Cricket Club/Quickie Club
(6) The quiet calm I feel when I sit outside Blk 69 and have a puff
(7) The slurp and bite in the Bak Chor Mee sold near Ian's house
(8) The horrible TV programmes shown on Channel 5 (can they get worse?!)
(9) The uncle who sells me Diet Coke downstairs and gives me a free packet of Marmee everytime
(10) The chatty taxi drivers getting hysterical over the "gah-men" on late night trips home
(11) The durian tree outside my flat - yes there really IS one!
(12) The smell of Old Spice in my father's bedroom.
(13) The chatter and gossip I can share with Ian over a bottle of wine at Wine Connection
(14) Sian Yan's little voice (I still can't hear it!)
(15) Leslie's sharp tongue (it never sliced things so fine!)
(16) Tania's laugh (it's just as loud as ever)
(17) Mehry and her crazy shopping (and she is still our little lamb)
(18) Sotong's legs (they could still qualify for that beauty contest we measured them for)
(19) Greggy's self-deprecation (and his eternally frustrating question "So how ARE you?")
(20) Duan and the things we talk about (and the number of cigarettes I end up smoking with her everytime we do)

These wonderful things have stayed the same so far. Then, there is that feeling I have whenever I see the Singapore skyline on the way home from the airport, and it's a wonderful "Welcome Home" time after time...

In a little while, I will switch off my computer at Blk 69, haul my suitcase down to Changi Airport and prepare myself for that 13 hour flight back to London. My mind is the inevitable muddle of tickets, passports and baggage check-in procedure. Still, somewhere in my head there is this twinge of fear. Yes - fear ... maybe because I am very aware that while I am away, some of the things I listed above in this post may change or end, and that when I come back Home next I may never find them again and they would be lost to me forever.

And yet I know that Change will come in its own time, and while it may take away some of the things I love, it will also bring new things my way. And I know that although I may feel the sense of loss when I lose things (as I very well may), the challenge will be to refrain from clutching and holding on tightly to the things that remain, simply because the harder I grasp and hold on, the more I may crush and destroy what I have, and the less likely I will be able to receive new treasures that come my way.
But for today, I have my list, and "(They) can't take that away from me" (as the song goes), for it records my memory of things are they are at present... and this little bit of sentimentality should be sufficient for now.

We will, each of us, take Tomorrow as it comes - Changes and all!

~~~

"I took my love. I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around. I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills, till the landslide brought me down.

Oh, mirror in the sky: What is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Oh... I don't know.

Well, I've been afraid of changing cause Ive built my life around you. But time makes you bolder. Even children get older. I'm getting older too.

Oh, take my love, take it down. Climb a mountain and turn around. If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide will bring it down.

If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well maybe the landslide will bring it down.

Stevie Nicks 1971

The things we do...

2007-06-29T20:45:00.000Z

There have been some wonderful songs written about friends... some diabetically sweet and some simply pure cheesy... and over the years when we hear these played on the radio we vacillate between the choke in the throat and the cringe down the spine. This week I have embedded three that I find the most enduring here on this blog - anthemic and overpowering and yet simple and true.

The best and most precious thing you can receive from anyone is their time, (simply because it is in such short supply!) and my friends give me so much of that... From the quiet discussion in a parked car in the late evening ... to the painstaking shuffling through songs to download into an iPod ... to determined shopping missions for LCD televisions that make me forget about lunch ... to the raucous hilarity of late night theatrics that leave me going home laughing with an ache in my abdomen no gym session ever achieved.

And before I sign off for this week, this is my present to you wonderful people who made me smile last night: a little bit of nostalgia from the days we spent in the hall in university. I present the latest KRX production staged and shot in true technicolour splendour on the parquet floors we know and love so well at East Coast Avenue...

Good Lord! The things we do...

Wee-Drama-Seah productions presents...

A PEE-IN-YOUR-PANTS PRODUCTION BY
KRX (alumni)

THE TRAGEDY OF BABY PLASTIC BAG

(a true story - so donch la-a-fff wan!)

One evening at Tania's house after eating a lot of ayam-buah-keluak and chillied "oh-burrr-jeans" Greggy realised that he was pregnant.

This remarkable state of affairs made Greggy smile contentedly - as you can see here.

At long last after a most uneventful pregnancy, Baby Plastic Bag was born amidst much pain and exhaustion (on the part of Baby Plastic Bag of course).

Greggy simply seemed to be having a "great time" throughout the ordeal...

When Baby Plastic Bag was placed in his arms, Greggy felt an immense sense of joy and pride. Who would have thought that Ayam Buah Keluak would result in such miracles?!

Here is a shot of Baby Plastic Bag at his Christening. Greggy looks the picture of maternal bliss... Nobody dared tell Greggy that it was a plastic bag he was holding...

...but this happy situation was not to last for long...

Tania had been sitting quietly for an hour, and finally couldn't resist pointing out the obvious:

"Ha Ha Ha! Greggy gave birth

to plastic bag one... some more from NTUC in Hougang!"

Greggy couldn't believe his ears!!! A NTUC BAG??? And from HOUGANG!???

A pounding rage filled his head.

It was then that every

one at the Christening started voicing their concerns:

(1) Why was Baby Plastic Bag so low class one... from NTUC, and not Cold Storage or The Marketplace???

(2) How could anyone want to give birth to something from Hougang!?

(3) Did this mean that Greggy would have to start living (shudder!!!) at Hougang and shopping (God forbid!!!) at NTUC???

N-NN-NO-O-O-O-o-o-o-o!!!

In a fit of what can only be described as madness, Greggy strangled little Baby Plastic Bag while the rest of the guests at the Christening watched with a mixture of horror and humour.

Baby Plastic Bag crumpled under Greggy's hands, and after a good deal of mangle-ment finally lay still.

Very very still.

Greggy stood and looked at Baby Plastic Bag's little pale and wrinkled body. The rest of the crowd suddenly went quiet, realisation washing over them... They had witnessed the cold blooded murder of a little Hougang NTUC plastic bag...

Greggy was stunned. Baby Plastic Bag was dead.

Yes... D-E-D ... Dead

And he had committed murder in front of so many witnesses!

What a stupid thing to do! He may as well go and live in Hougang!

This thought was enough to make him instantaneously develop a large ulcer in his stomach and fall dead...

Yes... D-E-D - Dead!

The crowd at the Christening looked at Greggy's and Baby Plastic Bag's bodies and shook their heads. How predictably outrageous for a Wee-Drama-Seah Production...

Quietly, the crowd laid out Greggy and Baby Plastic Bag on a funeral pyre made out of Tania's broken bedroom furniture, and adorned with offerings of soft multicoloured jelly; pineapple tarts; an empty box of Chivas Regal; three sizable oranges that looked a little mouldy and an almost empty packet of Virginia Slims.

As flames engulfed the body, and the room filled with smoke, Sian Yan couldn't help but mention (in her little voice) that under the crackle of the wood, she heard a faint rustle from Baby Plastic Bag...

THE END FOR NOW...

...to be continued...

Producer

Wee-Drama-Seah

Scriptwriter

Leslie Sharp Tongue

Cinematographer/Production Designer

Wee all!

Unit Production Manager

Sotong Seah

First/Second/Third Assistant Camera

Wee/Drama/Seah

Gaffer / "Laugh-er"

The one with the hair!

Dolly Grip

"Got Dolly meh???"

This motion picture was in no way authorized, sponsored or endorsed by NTUC, Cold Storage, The Marketplace, nor was any portion of the motion picture filmed inside a Primary School, Airport, Catholic Church or a moving vehicle (just in case you wanted to know). The events, characters and other entities (including the plastic bag) depicted in this motion picture are fictitious (even though we said earlier that this was a true story - actually we lied lah... so next time donch believe us), and any similarity to actual persons, events or other entities other than Greggy and the plastic bag are purely coincidental.

No plastic bags or people from Hougang were harmed while filming.

in memory of

KWANG/MONSTER/

ANIMAL/UFO

(Always remembered... Forever uncontactable!)

~~~

You, Me and that beer at East Coast...

2007-06-23T21:22:00.000Z

It's 5.30 on a Sunday morning, and I am fresh off the plane and my skin is sticky with home. I unpacked my suitcase in two minutes flat, but I know I will need more time to do the same with these thoughts of You, Me and that beer by the beach at East Coast tonight.

Four months or so ago, I started this blog with a throat-choked-thank-you to everyone I was leaving behind. Tonight I look through the posts on this journal and recognise a concatenation of events... an unconsciously created circularity. Four months ago, the riverman~~~ sailed away - a contradiction of feelings, and very much uncertain if what she was doing was what she wanted to do. Tonight I try to untangle those same thoughts... those "should-I-and-should-I-knots" that I procrastinatingly-pocketed over the last ten weeks while I threw myself into the throng and traffic of new faces and places.

And now as I sit huddled in a blanket of jet-lag in my old bedroom, I know I finally can think. And because "to everything there is a season... a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away..." I know that as surely as there is a time for me to ask questions, there will be a time when those questions will be answered.

And what about You and Me?

Sitting down with You by the beach with cans of beer can throw everything into perspective and remind me of things unsaid and undone... and of priorities, principles and ideals. Isn't it wonderful that after all these years and after all the changes in hairstyles and spectacle frame sizes, we remain the same underneath it all?!

You asked me early this morning if I felt it was surreal being home again. I shrugged my shoulders and grinned and told You that it was not. But if there is any strangeness at all, it is this: that under all the brash change I feel around me and I know you have gone through in my absence, I still recognise You when I come home.

And those foolish and special things we talked and laughed about tonight, simply make me realise what I am now...

...and that whenever I come home to You, I also come home to Me.

Thank You for bringing Me home!

~~~

Thank you!

2007-06-15T19:35:00.000Z

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls! It's a little bit late, but just as heartfelt: A big thank you to you wonderful people who helped create magic on that hot and sunny Sunday afternoon on the 10th of June at Melaka! Here are some outstanding and remarkable people who should get knighted for their efforts!

Gary Thank you dear, for all that support and for pushing me to get out on stage and get the exposure. You played a mean set of drums on the day, and the Girl from Ipanema definitely came a walking and everyone went "H-a-aa-a-a!". Let's keep on jamming together Boi!

Melf Gal, I don't know where you learnt how to play the bass like that... but if it really was in church, I have to start attending every Sunday! Promise me we will get "Fever"ed together again!

Adam Thank you for agreeing to do it for bananas! You made the rest of us actually sound professional. Betcha won't forget those A minor/-7 chords or that chilli sambal in a hurry!

Lau My main man!!! You practically dreamt this whole thing up and orchestrated it from day one. Thank you for being the optimistic person you are and actually believing in us. Oh, and thanks for lugging all the equipment back and forth!

Shah The world needs more astute businessmen like you Shah! Thank you for taking a risk on us actually being able to deliver what we promised, and thank you for not kicking up a fuss when we depleted your stocks of Tiger Beer in your restaurant!

Tina Thank you for your wonderful folk music and for the tambourine shaking and for the belly dance and for the Elvis compliment! Let's try and do this again shall we? If anything - at least the belly dance!

Jacqueline/Jacque Thank you for being patient with us and for getting all that publicity done during your manic period before your deadline. Give us another chance, and we will get more bananas for our little friends in Sandakan (see - now I know how to spell it!).

Dex Hey boy! You and I should definitely do a duet together the next time. Thanks for being such a lovely surprise when you wrenched the mic away from my greedy fingers. That will teach me to hog all the songs!

Ian Thank you for that wonderful artistic flair you have. I just saw the video you filmed on the day, and it is Cannes calibre!

Finally - A BIG MUSHY THANK YOU to YOU! Yes You ... Reader... Supporter... Friend.... Thank you for listening to the music I love and for encouraging me to perform, clapping wildly and cheering whenever I do and pretending not to get bored everytime you hear it again and again and again! Thank you for the telephone calls and the e-mails at all hours of the day asking me when and where and what time and what you could do to help out, or simply to wish me the best (sometimes from as far away as Washington DC and Singapore! - you know who you are, you gems!)

Thank you for one of the best days I have had so far, and for making this a wonderful summer jazz jam!

Here are some photos from the day (Jacque - I stole these from your blog... bloody low class I know... but I don't have any, see - as I was on stage all the time singing for your little furry friends! So I know you will excuse this!) For more pictures and more of a write-up on the event, do visit Jacque's blog http://www.pushinglimit.blogspot.com/

Watch out for the YouTube link which I will embed on the blog when I get it from Lau/Jacque as soon as they work out the technical issues!

THAT WILD AND CRAZY JUNGLE JAM...

What a day this has beenWhat a rare mood Im inWhy, its almost like being in loveTheres a smile on my faceFor the whole human raceWhy, its almost like being in loveAll the music of life seems to beLike a bell that is ringing for meAnd from the way that I feelWhen that bell starts to pealI would swear I was fallingI could swear I was fallingIts almost like being in loveOh, the shark, has, pretty teeth, dear....and he shows them, pearly whiteJust a jackknife, has macheath, yeah.....andhe keeps it, out of sightWhen the shark bites, with his teeth, dear....scarlet billows start to spreadFancy gloves, though, wears macheath, yeah..so theres not a trace, hmmmm of redOn the sidewalk...sunday morning, ...lies a body oozin lifeSomeones sneakin round the corner...is the someone, mack the knife? From a tugboat.... by the river..... a cement bags, droopin downYeah, the cements just for the weight, dear...bet you mack, hes back in townLooky here louie miller, disappeared dear...after drawing, out his cashAnd macheath spends, like a sailor...did our boy do, somethin rash? Sukey tawdry, jenny diver..lotte lenya, sweet lucy brownOh, the line forms on the right, dears.....now that mackys back in town
Birds flying high you know how I feelSun in the sky you know how I feelReeds driftin on by you know how I feel(refrain:)Its a new dawnIts a new dayIts a new lifeFor meAnd Im feeling goodFish in the sea you know how I feelRiver running free you know how I feelBlossom in the tree you know how I feelDragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, dont you knowButterflies all havin fun you know what I meanSleep in peace when day is doneThats what I meanAnd this old world is a new worldAnd a bold worldFor meStars when you shine you know how I feelScent of the pine you know how I feelOh freedom is mineAnd I know how I feel Never know how much I love you,Never know how much I care.When you put your arms around me,I get a fever that's so hard to bear.You give me fever,When you kiss me,Fever when you hold me tight.Fever! In the morning,Fever all through the night.Sun lights up the daytimeAnd moon lights up the night..I light up when you call my nameAnd you know I'm gonna treat you rightYou give me feverWhen you kiss me, Fever when you hold me tight.Fever! In the morning, And fever all through the nightEverybody's got the feverThat is something you all knowFever isn't such a new thingFever started long agoRomeo loved JulietteJuliette she felt the sameWhen he put his arms around her he said,"Julie, Baby , you're my flame"Thou giveth fever"When we kisseth"Fever with thy flaming youth"Fever! I'm afire,"Fever, yeah, I burn, forsooth."Cap'in Smith and Pocahontas had a very mad affairWhen her daddy tried to kill himShe said,"Daddy, oh, don't you dare!"He gives me fever"With his kisses"Fever when he holds me tight"Fever! I'm his missus, So"Daddy, Won't you treat him right?"Now you've listened to my story,Here's the point that I have made:Chicks were born to give you fever,Be it Fahrenheit or CentigradeThey give you feverWhen you kiss themFever if you live and learnFever! 'till you sizzlewhat a lovely way to burnwhat a lovely way to burnwhat a lovely way to burnwhat a lovely way to burn
SummertimeAnd the livin' is easyFish are jumpin'And the cotton is highYour daddy's richAnd your mamma's good lookin'So hush little babyDon't you cryOne of these morningsYou're going to rise up singingThen you'll spread your wingsAnd you'll take to the skyBut till that morningThere's a'nothing can harm youWith daddy and mamma standing by My baby dont care for showsMy baby dont care for clothesMy baby just cares for meMy baby dont care for cars and racesMy baby dont care for high-tone placesLiz taylor is not his styleAnd even lana turners smileIs somethin he cant seeMy baby dont care who knowsMy baby just cares for meBaby, my baby dont care for showsAnd he dont even care for clothesHe cares for meMy baby dont careFor cars and racesMy baby dont care forHe dont care for high-tone placesLiz taylor is not his styleAnd even liberaces smileIs something he cant seeIs something he cant seeI wonder whats wrong with babyMy baby just cares forMy baby just cares forMy baby just cares for me Another bride Another JuneAnother sunny honey moonanother season, another reasonfor makin' whoopeeAlot of shoes alot of ricethe groom is nervous he answers twiceits so killin that he's so willin'To make whoopeePicture a little love nestdown where the roses clingPicture the same sweet love nest Think what a year can bringHe's washing dishes and baby clothesHe's so ambitious he even sowsbut don't forget folks thats what you get folksfor makein whoopee Tall and tan and young and lovelyThe girl from ipanema goes walkingAnd when she passes, each one she passes goes - ahWhen she walks, shes like a sambaThat swings so cool and sways so gentleThat when she passes, each one she passes goes - ooh(ooh) but I watch her so sadlyHow can I tell her I love herYes I would give my heart gladlyBut each day, when she walks to the seaShe looks straight ahead, not at meTall, (and) tan, (and) young, (and) lovelyThe girl from ipanema goes walkingAnd when she passes, I smile - but she doesnt see (doesnt see)(she just doesnt see, she never sees me,...) You make me feel so youngYou make me feel like spring has sprungEvery time I see you grinIm such a happy individualThe moment that you speakI want to go and play hide-and-seekI want to go and bounce the moonJust like a toy balloonYou and i, are just like a couple of totsRunning across the meadowPicking up lots of forget-me-notsYou make me feel so youngYou make me feel there are songs to be sungBells to be rung, and a wonderful fling to be flungAnd even when Im old and grayIm gonna feel the way I do todaycause you make me feelso youngMy story is much to sad to be toldBut practically everything leaves me totally coldThe only exception I know is the caseWhen Im out on a quiet spree, fighting vainly the old ennuiThen I suddenly turn and seeYour fabulous faceI get no kick from champagneMere alcohol doesnt thrill me at allSo tell me why should it be trueThat I get a kick out of youSome like the perfume from spainIm sure that if I took even one sniffIt would bore me terrifically tooBut I get a kick out of you( some like the bop-type refrain )( Im sure that if, I heard even one riff )( it would bore me terrifically too )( but I get a kick out of you )( some they may go for cocaine )( Im sure that if, I took even one sniff )( it would bore me terrifically too )( but I get a kick out of you )I get a kick every time I see you standing there before meI get a kick though its clear to see, you obviously do not adore meI get no kick in a planeFlying too high with some gal in the skyIs my idea of nothing to doBut I get a kick out of youOld pirates, yes, they rob i;Sold I to the merchant ships,Minutes after they took iFrom the bottomless pit.But my hand was made strongBy the hand of the almighty.We forward in this generationTriumphantly.Wont you help to singThese songs of freedom? -cause all I ever have:Redemption songs;Redemption songs.Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;None but ourselves can free our minds.Have no fear for atomic energy,cause none of them can stop the time.How long shall they kill our prophets,While we stand aside and look? ooh!Some say its just a part of it:Weve got to fulfil de book.Wont you help to singThese songs of freedom? -cause all I ever have:Redemption songs;Redemption songs;Redemption songs.Somewhere beyond the sea,Somewhere, waiting for me,My lover stands on golden sandsAnd watches the ships that go sailing;Somewhere beyond the sea,He's (She's) there watching for me.If I could fly like birds on high,Then straight to his (her) arms I'd go sailing.It's far beyond a star,It's near beyond the moon,I know beyond a doubtMy heart will lead me there soon.We'll meet beyond the shore,We'll kiss just as before.Happy we'll be beyond the sea,And never again I'll go sailing!The days of wine and roses laugh and run away like a child at playThrough the meadow land toward a closing doorA door marked nevermore that wasn’t there beforeThe lone-ly night discloses just a passing breeze filled with memoriesOf the golden smile that introduced me toThe days of wine and roses and youThere are many many crazy thingsThat will keep me loving youAnd with your permissionMay I list a fewThe way you wear your hatThe way you sip your teaThe memory of all thatNo they cant take that away from meThe way your smile just beamsThe way you sing off keyThe way you haunt my dreamsNo they cant take that away from meWe may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to loveBut Ill always, always keep the memory ofThe way you hold your knifeThe way we danced till threeThe way you changed my lifeNo they cant take that away from me!!!Like the beat beat beat of the tom-tomWhen the jungle shadows fallLike the tick tick tock of the stately clockAs it stands against the wallLike the drip drip drip of the raindropsWhen the summer shower is throughSo a voice within me keeps repeating you, you, youNight and day, you are the oneOnly you beneath the moon or under the sunWhether near to me, or farIts no matter darling where you areI think of youDay and night, night and day, why is it soThat this longing for you follows wherever I goIn the roaring traffics boomIn the silence of my lonely roomI think of youDay and night, night and dayUnder the hide of meTheres an oh such a hungry yearning burning inside of meAnd this torment wont be throughUntil you let me
spend my life making love to youDay and night, night and dayEverytime we say goodbye I die a little Everytime we say goodbye I wonder why a littleWhy the gods above me Who must be in the know Think so little of meThey allow you to go When you're near There's such an air Of spring about itI can hear a lark somewhereBegin to sing about it There's no love song finer But how strange the changeFrom major to minor Everytime we say goodbye There's no love song finer But how strange the change From major to minor Everytime we say goodbye...

~~~

Shhh... and Wow Bam!!!

2007-06-13T19:01:00.000Z

Here's picture for the album - a summer's evening swirled into groggy glasses of Grigio in a jungle of grass and dandelion...

I smile when I look at this picture now and realise that this little "Edenic" moment was captured on the Sunday evening under a cloudless amber sky... and it was oh so quiet... just before the week kicked in my door and hurled me out into a crush of two completions and the rattle of last-minute rehearsals scuttling towards the performance on the 10th.

Whew!! And now it's over, and yes Reader, I am very aware that I have not posted a report, photographs or a video of that momentous event as promised, but it will be worth the wait for another week. So be patient, and as I sit here alone in my office on a Thursday night at 9 pm after shoving the last e-mail of the day into the ether... I am going to appreciate the Quiet.

I remember how I felt when I got home after the Jam on Sunday, and I shut the world outside my front door and this blanket of lull fell around me in my quiet and dark living room. I could actually hear the silence... and all of a sudden a wild fear came over me. It was all so empty and yet so full and impending and taut with watchful expectancy and electricity...

Tell me Reader, how much silence can you take before it actually becomes UNBEARABLE? Here is an experiment: Switch off that music, turn away from your computer, put away your mobile phone and shut the door. Do that for 30 minutes... go on! Now, I forbid you to think of anything EXCEPT that silence. Exile your thoughts to absolutely nothing, and then tell me how you feel.

After 5 minutes of that silence in my room on that Sunday night after my Jam, I had to switch on the radio and the TV and pick up the phone to give a friend a call just to end the very loud Empty-all-around... It's a funny thing I have realised about myself... I have to do something/say something/hear something and preferably do it all together in order to feel alive!

When I told a close friend about this last week, she told me that I may benefit from going for meditation classes with her. She says it may make me less high strung. She told me that I should learn to be at "one with myself" and appreciate the rhythm of my breathing and the architecture of my thoughts and the "drip drip drip of the raindrops and the tick tick tock of the stately clock..."

Now really, I don't mind Silence. The only issue I have with it is that it's so quiet!

Bjork sums it up better. And she's embedded on this page if you care.

Shhhh, Shhhh
It's, oh, so quiet
It's, oh, so still
You're all alone
And so peaceful until...

You fall in love
Zing boom!!!!
The sky up above
Zing boom!!!!
Is caving in
Wow Bam!!!!
...

'Til it's over and then

Shhh, Shhh
It's nice and quiet
Shhh, Shhh

Gawd! I love that song!

So that's my little piece of nonsense for now. Until next week... and I promise you Wow Bam!!!

~~~

A little monkey business...

2007-06-04T08:58:00.000Z

JUNGLE JAM

Sunday 10th June 2007

2 pm to 6 pm

Venue: Melaka at 27 Ropemaker's Field E14 8BX
Tel: 020 7536 9256

Nearest station: WestFerry DLR
See Map Below!

Ladies and Gents! Here's an invitation to a debaucherous Sunday in (hopefully) the sun! (So start praying people!) Pull up your seats to a feast of hot and spicy dishes from Asia and then put out the fire with a jug of Tiger Beer and laze 'n' listen to some summertime jazz... probably the best antidote to a manic week! Here's a teaser of what to expect --->

My baby just cares for me It's Delovely Summertime Feeling Good They can't take that away from me Night in Tunisia I get a kick out of you Corcovado A tisket a tasket Desafinado The way you look tonight Fever Don't fence me in You make me feel so young As Time goes By Tea for Two Mack the Knife Making Whoopee My funny Valentine Beyond the Sea Night and Day... and many many more...

A-a-a-a-nd for those soft hearted and world conscious people out there, you also get to do a little good for an endangered species of wildlife! Hurrah! Don't you all feel wonderfully pleased?! Part of all the proceeds of the day go towards the volunteering program with the Sepilok Orang Utan Sanctuary in Sendakan, Malaysia. So as you tuck into your Pisang Goreng (sweet fried bananas) and slurp at your Chendol (a milky coconut-ty drink you definitely must try), you can smile at the thought that our little furry friends in Sendakan will also be having their daily helping of love and care, thanks to YOU!

If monkeys ain't your thing, then simply let our little crew of performers entertain you! Let me introduce them...

Musicales Personae

1. Gary Holder - aka Bob

Gary is a one man band, and can play almost anything he puts his mind to - from the bongos to the djembe to the guitar to the bass. The most irritating thing is that he plays everything so-o-o-o well! During the jam, he will put all his skills into creating a reggae sound reminiscent of the great Bob Marley himself. If anything, he promises to LOOK like Bob, and has suitably restrung and honed both his guitar and his dreadlocks. And being the superlatively talented fellow he is - Gary will sing a couple of his own compositions in addition to jamming with the rest of the band.

2. Melissa Foong - aka Melf!

Melissa has been playing bass for her church on a regular basis, and sneakily getting very good at it! She only informed us that she had been doing so this week when she came over to a little gathering and wowed everyone with her flying fingers over those frets! Well, better late than never Melissa!! To make amends for not informing us sooner of her spectacular talent, Melissa will be bruising her fingers on an acoustic bass guitar during the jam and showing us once and for all why bass guitar players tend to be the sexiest people in a band!

3. Grace Dramamama - aka Gracey/Graceland/the Grace of Wrath/you get the idea...

Grace has been singing from the age of four when she discovered her mother's hairbrush made a pretty good microphone. Grace progressed into gospel singing, and after disrupting church choir practises for a number of years, found herself in a university hostel band and singing most unrighteous songs her mother would blush at. Grace attempted a career in the army, which she promptly left after three years (thankfully without killing anyone) to become one of the many sad and "leecherous" lawyers with no life beyond credit agreements and conditions precedent. Thankfully, Grace rediscovered her love for classic jazz and the stage just before she had to submit her "drawdown notice", and now regularly jams to friends and family in both Singapore and in London.

And finally ...

4. Adam Hughes - aka Quickfingers

Adam gives the group the professional edge, and he has played both jazz and classical piano for the last 13 years. He has already performed at well over 2000 engagements all round Europe since the age of 13, with a broad range of highly respected musicians. Adam is associated with many societies and events throughout the UK including: London Jazz Festival, London's Riverfront Jazz Festival (www.riverfrontjazz.co.uk), Berlin Jazz Club, TCM, Marcus Mingus Jazz Club Belgium, Litten Tree Jazz Festival and Blah and Blah and Blah... Adam however loves monkeys, and as such has agreed to plonk the piano for their sake for a good four hours!

(Awww... Thank you Adam!)

Here the map for the directionally challenged... WestFerry station is just up Grenade Street.

And so the riverman~~~ will part company with you for this week Reader!

Do keep your fingers crossed for us, and we will try to do you proud!

~~~

FOPP TONIGHT!

2007-05-30T12:33:00.001Z

Tonight the riverman~~~ will be spittin' into the mics at:

Fopp café + bar
222 Tottenham Court RoadLondon W1T 7PZ

A NIGHT OF SUPERLATIVE
JAZZ

30 May 2007

(Doors open at 7.30 pm)
(Free seating)

...and no!
You don't need tickets
cos' it's free!

*After 9pm entrance to the bar is at back of the store on Alfred Place.