Jolly Folly, Mighty Morphin'

After a drought of movies worth hype and anticipation, Spiderman 3 is finally coming out. There are so many friends who, for the thirst for a blockbuster or for some common talking point, are going to catch it on May 1. I don't know if it's true for you guys, but it seems like it's forcing a consideration of whom I should be watching this with. "It's just a minor decision in life for sure", my rational voice in me tells me that, but don't you want to share this special moment with someone? "Emo la, you."

Who am I? I'm Spiderman. (casts web on Times Square)

One thing that CO told me one night at the cookhouse, "You might have done something really embarassing in front of 100 people, but most of the time, hardly anyone even notices." How true! And that's my weakness, put in such accurate terms.

Last week was one of those times where it wouldn't have mattered if it had been erased. Really. Save for the nights out and Jimmy's birthday dinner, it was an empty week. Doing the things that need to be done because they need to be done, not because I so very much want to. I have no work at hand, which makes me kind of uncomfortable, because I know I'm someone who needs stress and work and deadlines to function and live, which isn't quite happening.

That's why this break is really good. Somewhere in my space, I will find a deadline.

Posted by Brandon at Sunday, April 29, 2007 | Permalink

After a drought of movies worth hype and anticipation, Spiderman 3 is finally coming out. There are so many friends who, for the thirst for a blockbuster or for some common talking point, are going to catch it on May 1. I don't know if it's true for you guys, but it seems like it's forcing a consideration of whom I should be watching this with. "It's just a minor decision in life for sure", my rational voice in me tells me that, but don't you want to share this special moment with someone? "Emo la, you."

Who am I? I'm Spiderman. (casts web on Times Square)

One thing that CO told me one night at the cookhouse, "You might have done something really embarassing in front of 100 people, but most of the time, hardly anyone even notices." How true! And that's my weakness, put in such accurate terms.

Last week was one of those times where it wouldn't have mattered if it had been erased. Really. Save for the nights out and Jimmy's birthday dinner, it was an empty week. Doing the things that need to be done because they need to be done, not because I so very much want to. I have no work at hand, which makes me kind of uncomfortable, because I know I'm someone who needs stress and work and deadlines to function and live, which isn't quite happening.

That's why this break is really good. Somewhere in my space, I will find a deadline.

Posted by Brandon at Sunday, April 29, 2007 | Permalink

I learnt a phrase which I want to share with everyone.

It basically means "There are exceptions to the norm."

SPRINKLING OF OUTLIERS IN THE CURVE OF THE NORMAL HUMAN EXPERIENCE.

Posted by Brandon at Sunday, April 22, 2007 | Permalink

My blood froze when I heard from my mum the news of the Virginia Tech massacre.

I was lying down on red, muddy, grimy earth. Beside me was a half-dug fire trench. In the darkness, I could merely make out the inconsistent sound of soil being hit here and there, the faint glow of fire flies making their rounds.

It was especially apt, when my mother added in the message, "It's not worth it being angry over life. You will regret the rash action you carry out."

At a moment when my physical limits have seen daylight, having been digging on almost impossible-to-excavate ground for hours, I super-imposed this message about anger management to fatigue management. I picked up my already heavy boots, "sucked it up", and shove the spade into the mud again. It can be quite amazing sometimes, when toughness gets so consistent, when digging becomes a monotonous, sequential 1)raise spade above head 2)hit ground 3)remove earth, that it becomes the normal state of affairs. Just like how men have gotten used to a fast pace of life. Just like how we've all come to terms with the use of the ezlink card. I guess that's what is meant by re-definition. Limits reset.

When it all finished, it felt weird returning to life again. The sunlight peeked through the leaves, the water in my bottle tasted like wind in sultry summer. Then, it's all re-defined again. The heart heaves a sigh of relief, returning to normal pump.

I'm glad it's all over. What a pointless exercise to be honest. But isn't it always nice to rise from a valley? Or like a Phoenix from some dark, flaky ashes? Bees from a close shave of a drown in a honey jar?

Posted by Brandon at Saturday, April 21, 2007 | Permalink

I feel like writing.

I dropped an e-mail to Mr Wong Ah Yoke, gastronomic journalist who writes a weekly column on the last pages of Sunday Times, requesting to follow him for one of his food hunts. His articles have this kind of pull, aided by Singaporeans' love for food, which attracts you to read them even though you might not have tasted a foie gras, a truffle or suckling pig in your life. I just love to read about food, the adjectives that exalt the tastes and the words that tantalise the mind as much as the tastebuds. "plump and crunchy", "robust without being weighed down", "tangy and piquant at the same time".

Doesn't the word "tangy" conjure a certain sense of acidic rush in you? I find myself oozing saliva and having to swallow it everytime I see that word.

Doesn't "piquant" remind you of quaint Japanese teahouses tucked in a corner of a rather secluded alley? Steam rising from cups of hot tea, against a background of snow-capped mountains?

My imagination feeds me so much.

Just yesterday, I read about the rags-to-riches stories of how some hawkers who started off their businesses struggling to survive, became millionaires and owners of food chains. I'm inspired, and ambivalent at the same time. I like how people just do it (in the Nike slogan kind of way) - sell a 2 dollar nasi lemak in their own passionate way, or toss pratas with pride. They make food the way it should be. They are the true icons of definingg cuisine.

Posted by Brandon at Sunday, April 15, 2007 | Permalink

I just want to kind of pay tribute to Erica's blog entry about the geogers.

http://harpingale.livejournal.com/, March 26th 2007

It takes a spark like this to jolt back so many closeted memories.

I think geogers became geogers, not because we forced ourselves to be geogers, but because we chose to be our very own self, that brought this most bizarre combination of people together. I read through all that we have gone through, thanks to Erica's compiled readings (excellent!), and just think that it has been such an intense ride.

These memories remain sealed. My memory of each geoger in their Kodak moment. In their most foolish, compromising position. The classic phrases immortalised and perpetuated in time. The classroom antics. Every single thing from the hole in the Uncle John's resort, to laundry in Mr Pang's lesson. Everything. Really seems so vaguely vivid, so alluring at the same time, it forces a compulsion to relive and turn back time. We need the innocence, the setting that framed this relationship, and the freedom. We don't need to be gravely sentimental, no, we just need to know that this common experience has been priceless and for me, well-sealed and to be preserved at all costs.

Maybe that's what they call, Accidentally in Love.

Posted by Brandon at Sunday, April 01, 2007 | Permalink