HISAP SUA

some people who dont really know me wouldnt realise that i have a very bad temper. that however happens once in a blue moon when my patience has been exhausted or a lack of decency and respect is not adhered.

earlier today, both categories are covered. i shant bother on the details in order to make this rather dull blog a bit more colourful. i sincerely believe that what i am about to relate to you is colourful enough.

in any case, THIS is what sparked my outrage.

(arriving late for my class) bitch: 'You people change venues at your whim and fancy...'

(its 15 past 9am) me: 'fucking hell bitch! can you be a little ruder than that!'

(absent for first lecture yesterday) bitch:'what the...i dont think i deserve this from you...'

(fed up with Singapore's complaining society ailment) me:'i said, fucking hell bitch! and you think I deserve THAT from you!?'

...

i shall not hide behind a veil of excuses. i shall however say that i wouldnt have reacted that way unless provoked.

call me a biyatch. call me egoistic. call me sexist.

i was provoked. she got what she asked for. full stop.

i understand how much people loathe going for weddings. it's a chore really. meeting relatives you dont like. meeting people you hate. meeting people who claim that they've known you your entire live while you struggle to place them in any form of symbiotic relationship you might have.

some who revel in such an event use it as an opportunity to show off. their new clothes, their new cars, their new jewelry, their new better halves etc. etc. i have plenty of friends who revel in such instances. its a chance to tell the whole world that unmeaningful life have turned for the better to a rather life changing, earth shattering tasks of manning their new lives called 'the marriage'.

i resent that. they speak at and to you condescendingly as if you have done nothing worth the while or of value to society in your life. i really resent that.

however, as it was, the wedding on Saturday wasnt such an event.

surprisingly most of my relatives stayed on the course of the non-judgemental. they didnt even flinch when i told them that i was unemployed. it was a nice change indeed. it even made the wedding a nice place to be although i did become bored as soon as i arrived, as usual.

i stumbled upon an old journalist friend who is the best friend of an ex girlfriend.

i am always in denial as to how much time has passed and how time has flown. in that conversation the often avoided subject was breached. nevertheless it wasnt a nostalgic trip through romance, innocence and naivety but a contemporary jolt that shocked me into the realisation that a lot of time has passed ever since.

in case you are wondering, that exgirlfriend of mine is currently working as a social worker in Qabul, Afghanistan.

like a broken record this played in my head time and again:

it has been a while... it has been a while.... it has been a while... it has been a while.... it has been a while... it has been a while.... it has been a while... it has been a while.... it has been a while... it has been a while.... it has been a while... it has been a while....

who says rain only brings ill-fates and mitigated disasters.

when it poured cats and dogs and rats last night in Orchard Road, i had to take refuge in one of my former favourite haunts, Plaza Singapura. for years before i had left for Perth, that was the place where i received my musical education and my talents were honed.

however, in recent visits, the place have been swarmed by a thousand pair of strangers' eyes. that could either be attributed to my myopia or the increase in human traffic and the outflux of friendly personels.

however, the rain brought me to a chance meeting. it brought me a man named Rosli.

he is a guitar guru whom i studied with for a bit. further into the conversation, it was rather refreshing to hear that he has married his long standing sweetheart and more excitingly will be finishing up the final recordings of his debut instrumental album.

things are moving on aye...

from that encounter i managed to extract my former bassists' mobile number whom i duly contacted almost immediately.

hence that fated encounter let to another meeting of old acquaintances. the following meeting goes by the name of one Bani Rahman.

when i met him at Eunos Block 4, it doesnt seem that he has changed at all. same round figure. same round tummy. same corny musician's humour. just think Fat Albert...

a friend of his came by a little later while i was on my second tea fix.

i found out that she was a property agent and the rest as they say is history. to make matters worst, another one of those property agents came by and sat with us.

at one point in time i had only 3 things to be thankful for. God, for still having faith that my life is worth the while. Bani, for being present, and a mug full of tea, to keep me occupied while my heart fidgets.

well it wasnt that bad of course. but we kept drifting in and out of everday topics and property agent sanctioned topics. so while zoning in and out of conciousness, eventually i zoned out completely and chose to become Rob Zombie.

in that state of unconciousness we all exchanged numbers.

it was 1130 and i had to take my leave.

while immersing myself in Nick Hornby's world of How to be Good, i received a text message (amongst few others).

the most notable one being:

'... its an honour to noe sumone with high qualifications like u, yet so humble...'

nnnnnnnoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

not another Yvonne Kwan!!!

for reasons many Americans would choose to ignore, today, i shall smile a bit broadly, while a little dance of joy is appropriate and thumping-in-the-air fist is called for.

how i wish days like days would stay forever...

so excuse me while i kiss the sky and bask in the momentary sense of glory...

it is going to be difficult to wipe this grin on my face for the next few days in the light of Manchester United's defeat at Parkhead, Glasgow.

it is going to be tough to wipe this grin for the next few weeks if Man U doesnt qualify for the second round.

It is even going to be an impossible task to wipe this grin until the rest of the season if Liverpool wins the Champion's League again.

If...

i wanted to rush home from the city just now. i wanted to reach home by 6pm because our favourite President, Bush was going to make his speech and it was to be televised live on Channel News Asia.

no no no... dont mistake me for a pseudo-politico-intellect wannabe. no no no... i've looked in the mirror a gazillion times. vain i might sound but i have to admit that i am better looking than Henry Kissinger.

truthfully, the desire to watch the circus was to spot some of my own's Letterman's Presidential Moments/Speeches.

however, like i mentioned before, those wants were merely wants. it didnt materialise. the rush hour had impeded my TalkShow wannabe fantasies.

which was when i had an epiphany of some sort.

in my head, an article headline perfect for the local afternoon paper, complete with its 70s porno neon lights, came into my attention.

it read:
'how to get on and off trains and buses with ease (even during rush hour)'

i would began with the following,

just follow these 10 Golden Rules
1-make sure you place yourself strategically when you get on. that means do the tough work first. weave your way through in like a snake...

...then it dawned upon me, what 10 golden rules!?

its the survival of the fittest! you shove, push, elbow, weave like a snake! do what you must or else you are left with nothing! nothing i say!

these people! they dont care who you are! young or old! strong or weak! they will shove you out of the game. so shove or be shoved!

or do what i always do...

wait for the next train.

ladies and gentlemen, boys and girl, men and women, males and females and not forgetting those stuck in between...

let me announce this with a heartfelt welcome, warmest embrace, loveliest smile, and not forgetting in the spirit of the brotherhood of mankind...

on this momentous occasion, historical landmark, a giant step for mankind, gangatuan event, and not forgetting its significance to Singapore's cultural tradition...

... that ... Bush is Here...

watching the repeat of Liverpool's demise last weekend hasnt made me feel any better...

i was watching the Kumars on TV12 when i found myself rappingly engaged in the interview that was underway. you see, the guest was Patrick Stewart.

however, little did i realise that the subject matter at hand was on fabric. it was a rather menial topic about how after two seasons of Star Trek the New Generation they changed the futuristic fabric of spandex to cotton on the advice of his chiropractor. for a moment i did feel moronic to say the very least. however after that moment has passed, such thoughts felt in a distant past.

only a man of his charisma could turn such a menial topic to sound so elegant and enticing.

however, the interview did make a turn for the more interesting. that was when grandma kumar pointed out how come there aren't more Indians in the Starship Enterprise. Patrick was of course a bit ashamed of the fact. nevertheless, grandma kumar commented further.

'...dont you think you need IT Support...'

classic.

but it was not as classic when he was asked to quote Shakespeare.

he said:

Signor Antonio, many a time and oft
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my money and my usances.
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For suff'rance is the badge of all our tribe.
You call me misbeliever, cutthroat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is my own.

how does he do it?

from being Captain Jean Luc Picard, the epitome of geekiness, one moment to Professor X the next but still when called upon spouting Shakespeare with the greatest ease and with the upmost integrity. i realise it's not only his voice. well maybe partly. ok largely. but it is also how he puts it. imagine Britney Spears or Bush weaving their way through a topic like fabric.

it amazes me.

i know i would sound like an idiot.

now, that doesnt amaze me.

the good thing about a sore throat is that my voice has turned raspily bassy. as Chuck D had mentioned once upon a time in Bring the Noise, 'how low can u go?'

yeah how low can i go?

maybe i could do a Ja Rule.

which reminds me of waiterrant.net's Richard-Burton-narcisstic-being-able-to-get-laid-on-the-account-of-his-voice customer.

excuse me while i chuckle at and with myself...

somehow my condition hasnt been made better by Liverpool FC's severe beating by Arsenal FC at the new, pristine, still in plastic covering of Ashburton Grove's Emirates Stadium.

no excuses... lost to a better team.

somewhere between feeling sorry for oneself and intoxicating myself with plenty of paracetamol, the Democrats took the House of Representatives and apparently seized the Senate by the minutest of margins. in my drugged state, i might have inclined to believe that what had just happened was just a hallucination. only when i sobered up for the best part of today that i realised the magnitude of that event.

many of us might have rejoiced and do a jig over this event. but probably that has a little or more to do with the fact that the Democrats isnt Bush's party. and because of that there is a strong sense of hope that Bush will not be elected for a third term.

well that's what they said the last time round.

we should however ponder on whether lady justice has finally won? is there going to be more justice in the world? or a finally peaceful earth would reign?

American policies in relation to the rest of the world has been developed throughout the years by the various regimes and administration. it has been developed by the academia of its ruling and thinking elite. its beliefs and misbeliefs is deeply rooted and entrenched in the psyche of the american people. at the core of that belief is the belief that america is the centre of the earth. (the fact that i, a singaporean whose voice is a minority of a minority of a minority, am talking about this says it all)

however that is a topic for another day.

more urgently we should ask, will the democrats live up to its promise? or will they merely exact revenge on the republicans for treating them so unfairly and badly?

we shall see...

between writing the umpteenth drafts for my articles and finding new materials to create a new set of lyrics, i have been suffering from a massive headache, sore throat and neausea.

i wonder, have i had too many ciggies? too many late nights? lack of sleep? not enough healthy food?

the list of questions goes on.

perhaps it was a delayed reaction to last sunday's food fiesta coupled with a range of clove cigarettes. please do remind me next time that they make me sick.

i hope i heed the voices when the time comes. i hate to feel what i am feeling right now.

on a fateful Saturday, Mr Tom, Mr Nose and i were hanging out at a coffeedshop near Boat Quay.

i cant say we were having a deep conversation about the meaning of life. i doubt that was the topic of our conversation. we had just watched Manchester United's defeat by Arsenal much to my quiet glee. nevertheless, Liverpool's own defeat wasnt exactly a nice feeling to possess at that point of time too.

so in the end, the conversation took a predictable turn into the red light district of sex and women. its not so much about the act that we talk about but how audacious it can be.

while deep in conversation, suddenly i heard a girl speaking as loudly as she could into her mobile. frankly i was pretty annoyed. i am very annoyed by people who speak to their mobiles as if the person has serious hearing problem or that the person is actually present in the vicinity but is standing at the end of the room.

call me intolerant but this cant be.

however that annoyance took a seriously weird twist. its as if the car that i was driving cornered that sharpest corners, spinned a few times, and then head off to a different direction. indeed. it was that type of twist.

just as the dust and smoke was settling mostly due to burnt rubber we heard her say...

'CHUM ---BER!'

no make that a scream. she said it a few more times, obviously the lingua franca was Mandarin.

'CHUMBER! CHUMBER!'

because my knowledge of Mandarin has stayed at Primary 3 since the last century i wouldnt be able to translate that to you, my dear esteemed friends and readers.

and then the unthinkable happen... the smart girl spelt the word...

'C-H-A-M-B-E-R'

to be frank, she was quite gorgeous. tall, slim, long straight hair, gorgeous top, expensive jeans and perhaps the most dear item on her, beautiful high heels. but the minute she spelt CHUMBER, all that was beautiful came tumbling down.

Crumbled like Pompeii crumbled underneath the lava of Mt Versivus...

sometimes i would dwell on the outskirsts of hopelessness. not often but at times when things are not going as i would like them to be.

nevertheless, when i was watching the tele on a certain friday night, i saw something that gave me hope. a malaysian artist was performing an acoustic set. as i watched closely i realised i knew every single musician backing him. they were, if not friends, close acquaintances.

and then i would be infected by the virus of determination...

there is hope after all...