keep it simple, silly!

When you bog down with problems, hassles and worries,

always remember to keep things simple, silly!

---

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.

---

newsFlash!

It’s perfectly acceptable to complain, whine and gripe

if it’s balanced with hard work, duty and purpose.

For when one complains without working hard,

whine with no sense of duty,

and gripe without purpose,

he shows himself to be the very person he chooses to avoid.

 

---

Familiar faces in the gloom

It's a nice feeling to meet a friend while you're taking a walk in the mall.

But sometimes there's an awkward silence

You shuffle your feet,

Answer questions haltingly,

Toy with your handphone

and stammer out an obvious excuse, anything to escape.


And sometimes you walk all the way around the mall to escape an ex-lover, that irritating high school friend or a weird guy in your driving class you caught leering at you.

Target spotted, plotting avoidance route

Sneaking at the corridors hiding your size

Hiding in stores to bid your time

And the old "oh look, I have an sms and have to read it intently" dodge


But most of the time it's a pleasent surprise

You stop, smile, approach and talk

"How are you?"

"Wow, I like what you've done with your hair!"

"You've lost weight!"

"Congrats on the promotion!"

"You have a wonderful wife"


We go through life much too quickly with nary a second to spare.

So why not spend the time with an old friend when it is God's will to bring you together for that moment. Talk through that awkward moment and soothe the long ruffled feathers.

There might not be a next time for either of us.


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Acting | Life

Acting is about life.

Life is about acting

Acting is Life

Life is Acting

If you act while acting, you become a bad actor.

But if you live and breathe the character, till it becomes you and you him

Then, that is the true form of acting.


---

with bloodshot eyes, I update

I apologise for the long wait for updates. Reason being, I have been staring at primary school kids for the past three days.

No kidding.

Monday harked the opening of the auditions for Unity Primary's Musical, entitled, "Dare to Dream"
Over a hundred eager contestants competed in the Singing, Dancing, Acting segments in order to clinch a role in the musical. The odds are high; the main cast have to sing, dance and act reasonably well and also have the X-factor in their acting. But there were surprises in the lot that came:

Unity Primary's very own Susan Boyle!

In entered a short, plump and shy girl with a prominent birthmark on her face. She stood in front of the judges (G, Yan and myself) shuffling her feet.

Name and Class went the order, not unlike a drill sergeant addressing a soldier

Karen Chew, 5C was the shy response (Names have been changed to protect privacy)

Again a command was given; Do you have a song?

And again a shy response; Yes, Yes I do

Please begin then:

And she did.

Ok, I'm sure her standard would not have passed many auditions as of yet, much less tying her name with someone as illustrous as Susan Boyle. But in the context of a primary school, and indeed even when you bring in the secondary school sector in, she certainly stands out of the crowd.

The clincer was during the acting auditions on wednesday. It was held in two stages; Stage 1 was a simple reading of a script. Clearing Stage 1 would enable you to move on to Stage 2 which was to express an emotion, any emotion to the judges.

The little Ms stood in front of us and said a few lines;

And She Cried.

Not only that, her eyes were drawing us in, pleading with us to hear her story. I felt the music room dissolve away as we were shown a little crack into her world.

And then, it was over. She dried her tears, bowed meeky and left.

Yan looked over at me and said simply,

"I want her for the main cast"

Through the force in her words and the resolution in her eyes, I knew that come what may, I will see a short, plump, shy but outstanding girl named Karan Chew from Unity Primary Class 5C sitting in the room when we come for the next session.


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Camera + Bicycle

The modeling thing didn't work out since neither of us (producer and myself) were free on the right days. It was a nice surprise for my bicycle to be spotted for one, like a compliment paid by a stern teacher. Granted, it's one of it's kind here in Singapore being extensively modified from the stock model. I've realised that I own a grand total of zero photos of it since I've obtained it! Time to make amends...

Flying Pigeon! Produced from a Nationalized "Anchor" brand Japanese Bicycle Factory which copied it's models from a 1933 model Raleigh. Incidentally, it was on bicycles that the Japanese managed to stage their (in)famous invasion of Singapore. Were some of the bicycles Anchor brand? Hmmm....

I managed to break my normal handlebars so I swapped them with this. It's a North Road handlebar mounted upside down to mimic a 1930s' "moustache" drop handlebars.

The lamp came with the light dynamo that I bought even before the bicycle. After extensive modifications and an accident with a van, it's now battery operated.

I removed my rear rack and full chaincase as it was ponderous and heavy. What transpired is now a 1930s racer bicycle. Wanted to go without a chaincover as well, but my trouser cuffs didn't think very highly of grease and dirt.

Because of the modifications, it has been out of service for the better part of a week. High time to give it (and myself) a spin.


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Modeling

My Bicycle got spotted for a modeling gig!