In this dark cold hotel room

I love the city skyline at night.

It was fortunate to be given the room on the 18th floor of the hotel in JB during this trip where the view is a magnificent one with an obstructed view of the city all the way towards Singapore across the straits. Dots of light puncture the darkeness like the sky on a starry night, mostly still whilst others moving in a line that never cease, others blink and shone in a myriad of colours, the hum of the room aircond the only thing audible. I could just sit back into the sofa with the light's off and just stare out into what I'd consider one of the most magnificent man-made 'incidental beauties'.

It's a pity that the camera on the 5800XM couldn't quite capture the nightscape very well, the end result being something greatly unspectacular compared to what I can see with my own eyes.

Angel

ANGEL
Sarah McLachlan
"Surfacing", 1997

Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There�s always one reason
To feel not good enough
And it�s hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memory seeps from my veins
Let me be empty
And weightless and maybe
I�'ll find some peace tonight

***In the arms of an/the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You�re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there

So tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn
There�s vultures and thieves at your back
And the storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lie
That you make up for all that you lack
It don�t make no difference
Escaping one last time
It�s easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees

***


I simply adore this song.

I first heard of Ms McLachlan when we first had Channel [V] - anybody remember Nonie Tao, Nadya Hutagalung, Sonia Couling? - through excess broadcast signal from neighbouring Brunei, her MV of Sweet Surrender. The first thing that came to mind was how utterly enchanting that voice is - soft yet powerful, firm yet poignant. She could sound like pleading yet never to the point of whining, the voice so clear, forcing you to listen to the lyrics.

It wasn't until Angel that I considered her to be one of the best female singers out there, the song made famous by being the soundtrack to the movie City of Angels starring Meg Ryan and Nicholas Cage. By then it comfortably dethroned Vanessa William's Colours of the Wind as my all time favourite song.

I never watched the movie though - thought it was all too soppy for my tastes but I'll probably do so the next time I could after learning to appreciate the deeper meanings to movies rather than just explosions and the US saves the world elements to most screenings nowadays.

The meaning to the song differs from person to another though. Whilst the mainstream idea is about balm in times of trouble or comfort in the passing of a loved one, one interpretation was about heroin.

Ms McLachlan wrote this song as a tribute to her friend, the drummer of Smashing Pumpkins who died from heroin overdose. The lyrics could be an allusion to the 'weightlessness' as carried by angels and the feeling of release from the sufferings of the day. Ms McLachlan explained, "there's nothing constant when you are on the road; everything becomes the same".

I'm not sure what that meant, though it didn't quite endorse the idea that she sang about heroin as the angel of comfort. Yet it didn't stop people from using it as the theme song during tragedies - New York 9/11, Columbine High School Massacre - or funerals.

As for me, I'm don't have to be listening to the song for comfort but it does actually afford a moment or so of solace, like the sound of crushing waves on a beachside after a long day or a kitten's mew when you were bored out of your skull. Time would often stood still when I have it on, as if transported to an auditorium where the only thing visible were Ms McLachlan and a microphone stand, illuminated by a spotlight shrouded by total darkness.

Unbelievable.

Liposuction fat and soap

It's coming to a full week of my sleeping problem tonight as I still find it difficult to fall into deep slumber for more than the usual 6 - 8 hours. I was very sleepy by 8.30 pm this evening and decided to sleep the evening off till the morning like I normally would at such situations, only to wake up just a little over an hour later. After a short trip to the toilet to relieve myself, I tossed and turned in bed for the next half hour until which I gave up and came here.

I'm not sure why but it would sound pretty silly to suggest that I have trouble going to sleep. Ask anybody who knows me and they'll tell you that I'm one of those who could pig out for hours and more if in the mood or if the weather is just too nice to doze to.

It does seem as if sleeping pattern had been screwed up by the weekend as usual - I tend to stay up till the wee hours of the morning of Sunday, being the nocturnal creature that I am - but nothing a couple of days of the new weekday and even badminton night couldn't fix. Perhaps I would try to change the habit a little by going to bed by 2.00 am instead of the usual six in the morning but not even that would stop me from napping the afternoon off either.

I'm bothered by something. What is it?

I'd not venture into the paranormal as that happens to be a favourite subject of mine as long as I'm not involved, though it could be said surely enough that I don't have those kinds of problems, thank God. This is the seventh month on the Chinese lunar calendar and I have heard of enough stories of strange things happening to dismiss it outright as balderdash. I am Christian yes, however we also believe of the existence of creatures of spirit, good and evil, so I don't go and tempt the devil by being an arrogant little fool.

Work is work, nothing new there. Doing all right, not bad, nothing crazy, fine. I even passed my certification exam today with a respectable score though a review of the result showed that I got some of the tough questions right and the easy ones wrong. I'm not nervous about going to JB for a project next week either as the difference is just the location of the site - with careful preparations made which are within my power to do so, things should be fine. Apart from that, in good terms with my work mates, no quarrels, plenty of laughs to go around.

The weekend is all mine, the money I earn is all mine (ok, some percentages belong to the banks I owe money to in hire purchase and study loans, small amount to the government as part of the tax structure as well as provident funds), all the free time is mine to play with. I have savings for purchases of personal satisfaction as well as some for future investments, including life insurance plans etc.

My health is all right, though it could be better if I lose more weight and exercise more. I enjoy food of all sorts from around the country, plenty of vegetable, proper portions of meat and kept egg yolks to a minimum. Proper amount of seafood, mostly in the form of sardines, anchovies and fish if I can get it, occasionally prawns. Enough varieties in what I eat not let it go boring.

I have just described a guy content with a life almost sorted (a house is a next investment), better than many are doing at this economic climate, better than some who are born into the cycle of poverty, better than some who remain as they are. Not as great as those who made it big, not as good as those who had an extra dash of luck, not as fortunate as those with endless supplies of inherited luxury.

I am grateful of course - make no mistake about it - whilst at the same time thankful that my efforts and gambles had not gone to waste or at least, minimal. Nothing to worry much either.

At least I know I haven't been stealing liposuction fat and making soap...

Alas, perhaps I'm just bored out of my skull.

The gift of thought

I was well surprised to discover that I had regular readers of this blog, ranging from my Internet contacts to ex-colleagues and friends. Never thought the entries would be of much interest to anybody out there except the ultra-bored people who ran out of ideas on what to do.

Been on a writing streak of late, thanks to one of my favourite authors, the late James Clavell, the master writer who wrote the Asian Saga that were made up of classics such as Shogun and Noble House. Currently reading through King Rat and his style of narration sort of got me interested to put some entries here of my own, trying my hand in amateur autobiography of sorts.

The conversation with Little Me was something I picked up from school days, especially during language classes, be it BM or English. Open-ended essays had always been a favourite of mine as it gave me full license to write in whatever style I like to do. For some reason I just love to do them differently to what I perceive would be the common flow of student essays, especially those taught in classes. My essays are often picked as one of the several examples of how to or how not to do them - they're either brilliant or simply ridiculous, rarely something in between.

Narrations are my favourite styles of writing as it allows you to create a world through descriptive language, similar to that of painting a picture. The best part is that the brush is in your hands and it is up to you to decide what to show the audience. When done right, the audience is transported right into the very setting of your story, like a fly on the wall.

The Storyteller, a nickname given to me by some buddies, of the fictional kind but the type without malice as I would make it clear about how unrelated it is to real life. I learned from my association with the Scousers on RAWK of how making fun of yourself can often be amusing, especially if it is done in the honest yet ironic manner. I had Little Me making fun of the present me because of envy for his care and worry-free life as manner to tell what I am thinking then and also as a different method of presenting that thought.

I mean how many KTM stories can one conjure up (and stomach) anyway.

Sometimes I do wonder why I blog anyway - do I actually want people to read them? In short, I do, as a way to share my opinion about the world we all live in from my point of view, however insignificant I am as one of the three million inhabitants of this city. Perhaps I wanted to leave a legacy of my life for those in the future, I don't know.

Or maybe it's just what I enjoy doing.

Like a fisherman sitting at the jetty of a lake all day, waiting patiently for a bite that would or would not come, he wasn't merely fishing - he was conversing with nature and found solace in the gentle waves breaking the mirrored surface of the water, ducks floating leisurely amongst glittering diamonds of reflected morning sun.

It is presently 1:03 am I could only wonder about how awesome this thing called imagination is.

Each to their own, to theirs to shape, to theirs to create.

The gift of thought.

So much like my own

"Haven't had this for some time now. Not even the last time I was back".

I sat at the round table of our house which would be about 20-years old this year, its top covered with mom's usual collection of tablecloths made of plastic that were durable, looked good and cheap to replace. I leaned sideways to the cool tiled kitchen wall of white under which my late grandmother's portrait photo hung. My brothers and I used to 'ask' her to join us at the table during Reunion Dinners, more to the cultivation of respect to elders rather than actually believing that she was looking down on us from that piece of that enlarged sepia-toned photo. The round table was placed adjacent to the wall to conserve space as the three of us brothers and two parents need not so much room. Unseated square stools made of wood circled the base of the foldable legs, supporting so many buttocks for so many years.

Little Me looked up but kept working at the bowl of fried kuey teow flooded with tasty gravy, venturing no replies as I munched on my own.

"You haven't been home much", he said, pausing a while to chew, the words clear from his full mouth.

"It's not like I could at a whim", I said. The lightly smell of pickled szechuan cabbage simmering in the pot of pork hind bones wafted around the kitchen.

"Of course not. That would be well costly. Not even Mom would think it wise to come home every few months as the tickets, whilst cheap, are still not cheap enough to be bought on a regular basis".

"I know. Though I do miss the comfort of home - who wouldn't - I cherish it more the lesser I return. Like once a year for the New Year's Eve dinner. We always sat down together at least once a year for that meal and I do mean it, it's special when you don't do it every month, what more every week".

"You could at least call more often you know. We might not get to see you hear but at least Mom & Dad knows you're fine, being so far from home all that. You might be in the thirtieth year of your life, bro, but you're always their son and Big Bro's brother".

"Since when did you turn from a little scoundrel to a wise guru?".

"I have always been a little scoundrel or a wise guru. You should hear me detail to Dad the brilliant plan about making money from trading Panini Thundercat stickers with my friends at school".

"Indeed, except that all the capital would from him, not you so that is hardly 'brilliant' ".

He stuck out his tongue and continued with the kueyteow in the bowl, half finished.

I was certain he had no trouble showing me the finger, that little rascal, but perhaps his mood was good that morning. Good thing I outgrew that habit and relied on quick wit instead. Not only do you insult people, done well it even make them laugh. Mom's words about my temper is still fresh in the head as if it was told just yesterday, "Your temper will lose you more than you get".

"Cousin Ringo is coming today", he said, hardly able to keep the excitement hidden. I could see what they would be up to that afternoon now, play acting as ninjas and warriors in the room, trashing it around like little maniacs until it was time to bath and had dinner. Then it would trashing around and playacting again, with breathers in between for reading Gila-Gila. We'd be up all night watching television and talking until the wee hours of the morning. That and Maggie or Indomie in between to satisfy our monstrous appetite. Day after day.

"Have fun", I said benignly.

"You've been smiling more nowadays", he said, belching whilst pouring the remnant of the gravy into his mouth.

"I did?".

"I'm not blind you know and not deaf either. An angel told me you'd look better if you can just curl your lips upwards instead of keeping it in a straight line".

He got off the stool and had the bowl washed before returning to the table with glasses of cold soya bean milk mom made the night before. Cubes of ice clinked as the glasses were raised and set down, melting away in the wholesome drink heated just an hour ago. Mom had always liked to have it all prepared by herself for the family, from soya bean milk, to santan to curry paste. None of that mass produced stuff at the grocer's shelf if she can help it.

"What else did this celestial creature tell you?" I said with a mocking smile.

"She also told me you brightened perceptibly of late. I can say though, it's as if years had fallen off you somewhat".

"Yeah, you're right. Even the mood is better. Haven't been doing it much during in the past many years that I felt like Cloud. You know, the music 'Cloud Smiles' from the Advent Children soundtrack?".

"Come to think of it, why the sudden change? What's so funny or happy about anyway?", he said, gulping the glass of white beverage. A quarter of it disappeared down his gastroinstestinal tract.

"Just something I decided to try to do more. Smiles are cheap you know - they only cost several ATPs to move the face muscles. Far easier to smile than to frown. And it does make me feel somewhat better, marginally or not. Whether it makes me look better is not up to me to say though".

"Won't you look like an idiot grinning for no apparent reason?".

"I'm not really grinning or putting on a hearty smile. It's more of a putting on a more cheerful face rather than one that looked as if being pulled over by the police. It was somewhat weird at a start, but after a while it becomes a lot more natural. Even when I take the train to work my lips are slightly curled upwards, eyes opened a little bigger".

"You still look like an idiot".

"A happier idiot", I corrected him.

A blue plastic bird slid out of its wooden house and cuckooed nine times before disappearing with a slam of its little door. I'm still somewhat fascinated by that beautifully constructed clock with a swinging cone as the pendulum. It has been with us for as long as we moved in.

"You wash these!", said Little Me who rushed to the living room. A short moment later the television came to life with the famous voice of Peter Cullen, "... Voltron, Defender of the Universe... " accompanied by the heroic music that heralded the second of the four-hour marathon of great television shows on a Saturday morning.

"Enjoy yourself, you little brat", I said.

He shouted back impatiently for being disturbed, "I will!".

I walked towards the stairs to go up after doing the dishes and took a glance at him. He took his eyes off the old Sony Trinitron television with dial knobs for tuning and looked back.

"Yeah, you improved your face somewhat. Good effort but can be better", he said, half looking at me half at the Ding Dang commercial on the TV.

"Oh shut up already and go watch Princess Aurora in her tight pink suit".

For a moment we just looked at one another.

A little grin blossomed on his lips that were so much like my own.

His footsteps

I met Little Me the other day.

We were walking along the peaceful pond hidden by the shade of the trees adjacent to the wide open field that seemed to sway like tides of an ocean when it breezed. The air was cool and crisp, the sun sending shafts of light through the clouds of the young morning.

"What are you up so early for, Brother", asked Little Me as we sat at the side of the slow flowing brook adjacent to the sea of green grass blades.

"Haven't been sleeping well, brother", I said, looking at him skip some stones over the surface of the mirror-like water.

"What's bothering you?", he asked without looking up.

"I don't know. Nothing is. At least nothing much is. I am doing all right at work, not financially in any straits. Friends are all boss, life is not at all sour", I said a-matter-factly.

"Then how could you have sleepless nights like this?".

"I don't know. Perhaps I'm jaded. Been thinking of a short vacation for a while".

"You think that's enough?".

"Why not?".

"What will you do during that vacation? Sleep your head away and slave the hours away to the morning on the computer?".

"That's the plan. At least the sleep my head away part. Just wanted some time alone to myself of my own".

"Don't you get that every weekend?".

"Yeah, but two days never seem to be enough. They just zoom by like that", I said, snapping my fingers.

"And you end up feeling as if the weekend never happened?"

"I wouldn't say so, no. Perhaps that life in the city - things just fly by, even the quiet times to your self".

"Perhaps you've had too much 'quiet time' with yourself".

A frog jumped into the water, creating a ripple from the edge that spread throughout the surface of the water until they met criss-crossed one another.

"What do you mean by that?".

"Isn't it obvious - you work your days, sleep the nights but you never seem to achieve anything that meant much to you, no?".

I looked at him.

"Have you ever had anything else but 'quiet time', brother?".

A bird called from one of the branches of the trees lining the surroundings of the pond.

"I don't know", I said.

"Time-consumerism at its best, I'd imagine. Day in and day out worth of things to do by yourself, none of which you remember when you wake up next Thursday. None of which are worth remembering".

I yawned, taken by the serenity of the atmosphere around the still pool of dark water. An insect skipped its way across riding only on surface tension.

"Some are", I told him, watching the sun peer through the trees like glitters of diamond when they sway to the breeze, causing minor waves to crest and disappear on the pond.

"Not enough".

I turned to look at him. "I know".

He stood up and brushed the dirt and grass of his shorts, a little guy a bit taller than half of me, the haircut that of a bowl and clad in a the old Superman t-shirt with its cape cut off. He told me Mom did it so that he won't think myself Clark Kent's alter ego and jump down the verandah and into the hospital.

"Time for breakfast, bro. I'm hungry. Mom's making the fried rice again, my favourite!".

"Enjoy yourself", I said, in envy of the carefree way he carried himself with, the swagger of a king without the worries of the world.

"Don't forget to call home more often. Mom & Dad will appreciate it".

I nodded as he paced down the meadows and out of sight.

I stopped to look at the flowers that swayed to the gentle breeze of the morning, at the gathering clouds that cast a huge shadow over the rolling hills, at the rainbow that arched over the horizon and at the footsteps that the little feet of Little Me on the ground that disappeared onto the grass.

He's right - his footsteps had not been mine, enough.

We all dream

The Fremen were supreme in that quality the ancients called "spannungsbogen" -- which is the self-imposed delay between desire for a thing and the act of reaching out to grasp that thing. from "The Wisdom of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan.
-- (Dune, Frank Herbert)

It's true that ability to stop and think before doing something requires great discipline, especially if the end result would normally be something that is irreversible and a thing that you would need to live with. To those who 'live and let live' the above probably don't matter as life is one to paint and a painting to look back at, good or bad. At least one get to lived his life the way he wanted it.

For most people however, the need to do decide on whether a venture is worth the risk is often a dilemma of great proportions especially if it meant something very costly or one that would change how you live for a long time, if not forever. Take for instance the decision to buy a house - choose the wrong location or pricing and you'll end up financing a long term loan that will eat up your life's worth of worries. Abandoning it to make amends will eat up all that has been invested practically rendering it a waste.

Even a thing as natural as having children is not a bed of roses (though the process of making them are often decided in seconds... that's for another story) - the whole process of investing half of your life to make sure that this new bundle of life get to grow in a decent environment with the proper upbringing is not as simple as say, adding cheese to make a cheese cake. Unlike programs, the older they are they less they tell you and whether they end up like what you hoped to be will ultimately be out of your hands simply because they have free will.

'Without hope a man is but an animal', says the Koran and I agree.

A deer is happy enough to prance around the woods, eat berries and soft leaves off shrubs for the rest of its life without knowing if its defaecating will bring a richer growth in the future. They don't stop to feel the rain and think of all the greenery that will result from the downpour of heaven's waters, or the newer sweeter fruit that grew along the stream.

We all dream of better things in the future for without it there is no will to live.

There was an article I read many years ago regarding the causes of death amongst people on earth. It said 'one of the biggest killers of people are retirement'. When they stop working, they don't know what to do with the rest of their lives. The reason to wake up in the morning to get to work, to fix that pipe, to write the purchase order, to operate that forklift, to draw the design diagram - disappears.

Of course as morbid as it sounds, hope can be about many things. My dad is a retired civil servant whom had served his country loyally for 35 years. He has nothing much to do nowadays except to tend to his little garden at the extended porch of the house and the backyard. I hope to God that he lives a long and healthy life with my mother, I'd imagine he's hoping to see my brother and I establish a family of our own like when he did over four decades ago, to help guide us through the difficult learning curves of becoming the head of your own family.

That is his hope.

What about mine?

You'd think?

To August 01 ISA Protestors/Supporters, hereon referred to collectively as 'You'.

Please take into consideration this response from somebody who needed to let out how he and his fellow friends felt regarding your march in protest or support. Whilst this represent simply mine and my friend's view on what you did yesterday, do keep in mind that it is likely to be the same for many others out there who just wanted to get on with their Saturday.

Whilst you might look smart to have it scheduled during a PC Fair for 'maximum impact', please bear in mind that your actions had caused the following:

1. Traffic congestion due to road closures
The car that my friend and I were travelling in down towards KLCC were caught in a jam as early at 10.30 am from as far back as Sheraton PJ, making it a hell of a crawl for one hour just to get to Brickfieds. I will not accept the excuse that it was the police who caused this congestion as it was necessary to ensure that any riot or untoward incidents to be contained within a controllable sphere under police control. Imagine people driving by and into a skirmish between the riot squad and demonstrators - there will be men and women, children, old people etc whom would have absolutely no interest in getting into this chaotic situation for your benefit.

2. Public transport disruptions
People going to and fro Masjid Jamek were stranded by 2.00 pm as a precaution by RapidKL. Again I will accept no excuse of the police being the cause - read point 1. above.

As a Joe Public who just wanted to enjoy the weekend looking for bargains and other *akhem* interesting things at the PC Fair, I put this blame solely on you. If you did not carry out a demonstration that was illegal to begin with, then the police wouldn't have to carry out such unpopular work. And from then onwards, the people (yes, read that again and again) will not have to suffer from your 'smart' actions.

It doesn't matter to the lorry drivers who were delivering things, nor the couples going out for breakfast & shopping, the hordes of people making their way to the KL Convention Centre, the bus drivers who were ferrying people around the city or the shopkeepers who had to pull down their shutters to protect their premises - about what you are trying to do. Sure, 'justice' this, 'the people' that etc etc.

But explain to me how does 'justice' work to help those who had to huddle in fear of looting from demonstrations gone wrong or 'the people' to those who couldn't make their way to Masjid Jamek vicinity due to the imminent danger of riots.

Do you really believe that what you were doing was 'for the sake of the rakyat' ?

Being one of the people of this country, here's a rakyat's verdict at your actions:

• Stop being selfish.
• Your action will benefit only yourself.
• Stop using the words 'the people' or 'the rakyat' for political mileage.
• Whilst there are merits at the cause but the method is simply irresponsible.

What good is a demo if the rakyat cannot get to work, cannot get to do their daily chores?

And don't talk to me about 'peaceful demonstrations' - there will always be those who are waiting for the chance to show how cool they are in going against the police and becoming the 'martyrs'.

For 'the rakyat'?
Yeah, right.


Sincerely,

The Ali, Ah Kau & Rama who were greatly inconvenienced by the Saturday demo.