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A SLICE OF NORTHERN SKY; THE POSSIBLE BLACK-EYED DOG; MAYBE BRYTER LATER AND PLANS FOR LILAC TIME...

Ein Ganzer Sommer

Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts

Friday, July 6, 2007

And even though everything must change...


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

Friday, June 29, 2007

The things we do...

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!)




~~~

Saturday, June 23, 2007

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



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!

~~~

Wahre Leibe

Mein Sein

Das Ganz Normale Leben

Dreifach Schön