The king is dead, the king is dead! Long live the king!

Michael Jackson,

1958 - 2009

Front page news when I woke up in Perth today.

Everyone seems to have something to say about him,

how he was a genius, a born star, a legend.

And how they admired him, loved him, worshipped him.

One wonders where were they when he was in the courtroom defending his honour,

or whether did they comfort him when he went through one, then another divorce.

Or what they said when he had to sell his home, his prized collections, even his white glove for cash to pay the lawyers fees.

Do him a last favour and leave him alone. Vultures.


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Day 2, Lucy Lane Perth

It's cold in the morning.

There is a heater in the shower, the toothpaste is cold in the tube.

I ate the least processed breakfast in years thanks to free range food and my wonderful aunt.

The air is crisp and dry as you step out fully clothed to face the environment.

At the shopping centre, I was stopped by the security guard because I was taking pictures of the mall.

But his manners and words immediately 9/10 of all Singaporean Service Staff to shame.

Wow. I'm not a morning person so naturally I felt grumpy. It's not every day a brush with the law improves and not spoil your mood for the day.

Before that, a person approached me for help with resizing his photos because he saw I was using a camera. You don't get that much in Singapore.

The shops are all selling winter gear. Not very useful in Singapore.

Organic (they call them free range here) food / drinks are on par with or even cheaper then the usual soft drinks and processed food. I'm certainly not complaining.

Shops all still selling winter clothing. Shoes are not too hot.

Got a few shirts and a bag. Total expenditure? AUD$51. Can you see the halo on my head? Look harder.

Ate one of the best tasting Japanese food I had in my life in Perth, Australia. Before that, I shopped at a Seoul supermarket. Globalisation never felt so real to me before.

News is all about their internal politics with a short footnote about Iran. Whatever happened to a global outlook?

It's a bad habit to compare and contrast Singapore vis a vis the country that I'm at. It's sad to find Singapore losing out.

Oh, interesting observation about the Australian funeral service, will share with the Veronica crew when I get back.


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foreign soil; alternative lifestyles

This is Samuel reporting from Lucy Lane, Perth where I am staying at my aunt's place till I move to my hotel cottage tomorrow.

It is cold, very cold, at least to a body used to humid 33 degrees heat from morning to night.

Heck, just this morning I work up at 3am in the morning sweating even though my fan was blowing at full blast.

But its a nice change from the heat, the crowds and the bustle.

Here it's nice and slow, peaceful and wide. Nothing really stands above 1 story and flat wide lands are the norm rather then the exception.

Things we take for granted, like public transport and street lamps is a luxury here.

Things we deem as luxury, like housing and cars isn't so much of a big deal here.

It's a joy, to be away from the home country for a bit at least, to see what else the world has to offer.

Because one man cannot be a island.

The air is fresher, the people different, the streets wide, the attractions many and the picture opportunities plentiful.

Oh yes, I think it's going to be a great trip ahead.


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the strangest thoughts; in the strangest moments

It is while standing at the edge of the most exciting rollercoaster ride in my life that I remember the strangest stuff.

In an instant, I was transported years back, to when I was Primary 5.

I was standing at a bus stand, shoes scruffy (just how I liked them, comfy), uniform orderly disorder. I wasn’t waiting for a bus though, but a girl.

She would take the 11.45pm 198 bus that brought you to the outskirts of Fairfield Methodist Primary School 30 minutes early. I would then board the same bus and sit next to her.

She wore the all blue tie that signified a prefect stature. Her attire was orderly, her coiffure neat and her features, flawless.

I didn’t notice that then of course. Girls then were at best friends, at worst enemies. To be handled warily and not to be trusted.

Not this girl though. We talked naturally, without the awkwardness of puberty or gender.

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5 years on, we grew up. Both went to the same secondary school, classmates for the last two years. We hardly noticed each other.

She lost her prefect tie, attire in a orderly disorder and gained an aggressive attitude. I did my best to present a good outlook of myself in school, mild and meek.

We did talk, but it was shallow and drivel. Gone was the touch of friendship.

I last saw her a year after I graduated from secondary school. I went through a second round of puberty (!!!) and grew taller and slimmer. While walking with a friend in Dover, I ran into her. Her hair was all done up, face painted and a accessory guy beside her.

A glance. A flicker of recognition. No change of pace. No halt in conversation

We pass each other by and the flashback faded to black, to reality.

A shame, oh a shame, to have grown too old and critical for friendship to flourish.

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Steady on!

Continuous effort - not strength or intelligence - is the key to unlocking our potential.

Winston Churchill

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love & attraction; what about it?

What attracts a women; what attracts a man?

The size of her breasts; the colour of his eyes?

That cute smile; that lovely grin

The way she holds you; the way he holds you?

Slim legs; Chest hair?

The way she speaks; the way he says things?

Are we that simple to fall for such a trick, an illusion, a mirage? To fall from grace like Adam and Eve for that forbidden fruit. So sweet yet so dangerous.

How Ridiculous!

-

However, as it is human to err and sin,

it is also human to love. To want to care and protect a stranger who you’ve just met for eternity.

A flick of her hair, fiddling with his keys,

an awkward glance, a shy smile,

A reluctant good bye. And a million words were left unspoken, but yet never understood so well.

-

We are fools for thrusting ourselves into this charade over and over. But once tasted, it never goes away.

So love, loved and love again.

How Ridiculous! only if you’ve never experienced it before.

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keep it simple, silly!

When you bog down with problems, hassles and worries,

always remember to keep things simple, silly!

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jostling and yelling, squeezing and arguing; just another day at the thieves market

Blasts of indian music, hollers of chinese sellers all beckon the passerby towards the thieves market

where everything and anything is for sale.

Piles of goods haphazardly piled up or strewed on the floor not unlike a corpse of an animal

while we, the vultures disembowel the still warm corpse.

Whispers, shouts, yells, conversations all happen simultaneously

a hundred at a time, in a dozen different languages.

A item catch my eye, gleaming lustre showing through the grime.

I pick it up, twilling it through my fingers before enquiring about the price.

Yes? No? Maybe? I ponder as the seller squats, already forgetting about me.

I stand up, a hand reaching for my wallet as I make a purchase.

The seller looks up, a smile spreading on his sun beaten, aged face.

Another purchase, another day at the thieves market.

the laptop’s humming, stale coffee accompany a dying cigarette as the author works on; late nights

Soft music sung by long dead singers fill the air;

as the fan attempts valiantly to move the hot heavy air around.

The laptop’s humming, stale coffee accompany a dying cigarette as the author works on.

Outside the world’s asleep, reward for a long day of labour;

but the author struggles on for love, glory and monetary benefits.

The deadline’s ticking, the clock that never stops;

tick tick tock tock goes the seconds, followed by minutes and hours.

A early rise is in order tomorrow;

Jeez, is it already 3am?

3 hours for a period of rest, Nirvana before the rush starts again;

already it feels too short.

The bed beckons, singing it’s siren call;

calling out to this ship to wreck itself on it’s shores.

Eyes drooping, closes and forced open again;

10 minutes, an hour, 30 seconds more…..

 

Late nights.

-Dedicated to all fellow owls of the night.

 

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late night driving

The traffic light flickers Green, Amber, Red as we stand in the yellow glare of the streetlamps.

We hold ICs, PDLs and the all important white attendance sheet in one hand; the other a cigarette, a forgotten book, a handphone.

Awaiting the arrival of the Ladies and Gentlemen in company white polo tee, black trousers, black shoes; an army of uniformity.

“Here they come”, the unspoken announcement sounds as we shuffle to our feet to our vehicles / to our masters.

IC and PDL please, goes the call and as easily the order is given, it is followed. A hundred imaginative minds immediately recall the inmates at Auschwitz.

A glance, a quick smile and the documents are handled back.

The order is given: “Take the drivers’ seat”

We shuffle in our seats.

We adjust the mirrors.

We take a deep breath.

We go for a late night drive.

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