Time To Vote

Right, crunch time’s looming and it’s time to declare my candidate of choice:

Taufik for Singapore Idol! Great moves, pretty good voice, consistently entertaining to watch and, in my view, the best overall performer remaining in the competition. I think Olinda’s great too, and she might actually do better for us on a world stage because her voice is so unique, but Taufik’s the one I want to watch every week.

Also, if Ken Lim’s none-too-subtle comments about Taufik’s “niche appeal” to one particular race are actually true, then there probably aren’t enough Malays in Singapore to secure a victory for him, so he needs my vote more than the chinks in the competition do. Non-Malays For Taufik! Who’s with me?

[Yes, this post is deliberately parochial. Blogging my views on the US presidential elections would be pointless, since (a) I’m not American and (b) I suspect none of my readers support Bush either so I’d just be preaching to the converted anyway. Also (c) Ralph Nader is not going to win so to pursue the ultimate goal we are left only with Kerry who (d) does not fire me up but who at least does not fill me with alternate parts rage and pity. Not quite the stuff of illuminating blog entries, is it?]

Something For The Weekend

After much nagging from me when we met up in KL, Benny has capitulated and started an mp3 blog. He’ll also be coming to Singapore for Resfest this weekend, which is lovely because I can’t think of anyone (on this continent, anyway) I’d rather attend it with.

From the pile of design wank that is the official website, we’ve managed to figure out that we’ll mostly be attending stuff on Saturday, though I’ll probably pop back on Sunday for Cinema Electronica. (Contrary to what we were expecting from the main Resfest site, the Singapore leg of the festival will not feature the documentary on freestyling or the Warp music videos we’d been looking forward to, which is rather disappointing, but I guess we’ll make do with what’s there – an essential attitude when living here, anyway.)

Till February

What I have learned these past three weeks is that it is always possible to be more in love than you were before.

I didn’t trust myself to drive home after seeing Alec off. For the second time this year, I sat in bus number 36 staring blankly into the distance, speeding towards one home and away from another.

Bet you thought this was going to be a sappy weepy post about the pain of long-distance love, but no! I’m actually going to write about Monster Movie’s Last Night Something Happened, my iPod album of choice on the way home.

You know those bits of trance dance tracks which are so euphoric that even without drugs you still find yourself with your head thrown back and your hands reaching for the sweeping laser lights, and you’re so caught up in the moment you don’t even realize you look daft? Monster Movie made a whole album’s worth of music like those bits, except slow and with guitars and pulsing organic harmonies.

You know those bits in films where a song kicks in during a particular scene and suddenly you’re plunged headlong into a world so intensely beautiful you’re almost drunk on it, and you realize that there will never be another song more perfect for these images than this one? Monster Movie made a whole album’s worth of songs like that.

You know how when you’re in the grip of pretty strong emotions but are trying not to show anything on the outside, with the result that you feel as if your heart is literally swelling in your chest, and you close your eyes and mouth tight so that nothing will leak out if it bursts?

I guess that last one didn’t actually have anything to do with my listening to Last Night Something Happened, but the album is pretty perfect for moments like that too.

At least this will be the last time. And February isn’t that far away.

Par-taying

Clawing back still in progress. This is about Saturday.

I’d originally been pissed off at myself for not snagging us tickets to Maxim Vengerov (kowtow kowtow) performing the Beethoven violin concerto at the Esplanade that night, but in the end when we got asked to three separate parties on the same night, we were glad we weren’t tied down to it. We finally decided we could only make two, and picked the first two we’d been invited to.

* * *

Kelly’s housewarming party came first. We brought a dessert Alec first made for me in London, and which I have subsequently decided is one of my favourite desserts in the world: pears poached in red wine, cinnamon and other stuff, topped with mint-infused mascarpone cheese. Bloody tedious to make, and it looks a bit vile while you’re eating it because the cheese mixes with the wine, but it’s my idea of dessert heaven and I’m not even a dessert person.

I had a great time, but was probably not at my socializing best because I kept getting distracted by the classic music videos among Patrick’s DVD collection. I’m incapable of watching Coldcut’s Timber and making conversation at the same time, unless the conversation is about the utter genius of the video. I probably managed some half-witted remarks during Amon Tobin’s Verbal, but I don’t actually remember what I said or who I was talking to.

I also vaguely remember demanding, in my usual overemphatic tone, that Patrick play the above two videos once I realized he had them. This is of course the best possible way to interact with someone you have only just met. Sigh. I’d like to blame the beer but I don’t think I’d had much at that point.

Anyway, thanks for having us, Kelly and Patrick, and happy housewarming. I eagerly await my next invitation. :)

* * *

Sue’s birthday was at China Jump, which is…really not our kind of place…but it was still nice to see Sue so happy.

Our night there started off badly, but we fortified ourselves with more beer, and danced to Naughty Girl. I also danced to the few aggressive hip-hop tracks they played, until they realized that hardly anyone else wanted to dance to that, and changed back to cheese.

And then we spotted the empty pool table. I’m sure there have been better feelings in my life than making the winning shot in a pool game by perching tipsily in a flimsy tube dress with my left bum cheek on the side of the table and my right arm twisted around my back in order to get a shot at the black, AND THEN POTTING THE FUCKING BLACK THEREBY ROUNDLY KICKING ALEC’S ASS, but this one will do for now.

Door Bitch

Strange, isn’t it, that when I walk unaccompanied to the door of China Jump and ask what the cover charge is, the woman manning it says “You do know you have to be over 25, right?” with a distinct tone, but when I walk to the door with Alec, no one even mentions age?

I guess white is the new black. Or maybe white has always been the new black. If you know what I mean.

The Longest Five Months Of My Life

Alec arrives today for 20 days.
Alec arrives today for 20 days.
Alec arrives today for 20 days.

Blog updates may possibly be infrequent, and unbearably sappy when they do appear. Consider yourself warned.

Representative Democracy In Singapore

Two or three weeks ago, I explored Potong Pasir for the hell of it, with some of the very few people I know here who would do things like go exploring Potong Pasir for the hell of it. It was a fabulous day, and I’ve been meaning to do a writeup with photos for ages. (Coming soonish.)

When the usual “So, what have you been up to lately?” question gets asked in conversations, I’ve been telling other people about Potong Pasir Day. This is how the conversation goes in the vast majority of cases:

Me: Well, a couple of friends and me went exploring Potong Pasir one Sunday afternoon and had a fantastic time.
X, looking absolutely perplexed: Oh…okay…why?
Me: We wanted to see what an opposition constituency was like.
X, still looking confused: Oh…you mean Potong Pasir is an opposition constituency?

[There are only 2 constituencies in the whole of Singapore which are not in the hands of the ruling party. Potong Pasir has been an opposition constituency with opposition politician Mr Chiam See Tong as its MP for at least the past 15 years, if not longer. Chiam See Tong is Singapore’s most prominent, respected and successful opposition politician. All these facts are given ample press coverage at election time.]

Now, let’s continue with the conversation. With about a quarter of the people I have talked to, the second half of the conversation goes like this: (Please note that the people I talk to all have university degrees)

Me: Er, yes. Chiam See Tong is its MP.
X: Oh…you mean Chiam See Tong is an opposition MP?
Me: (speechless)

Sir Mix-A-Lot Would Weep

Someone stopped me along the street the other day and asked if I wanted to join a talent agency as a model. Halfway through her spiel (respected agency, no sleazy assignments etc.), I said I wasn’t interested and walked on, because much like Groucho Marx, I think any agency that would want me as a model must either be pretty crap or specialists in the “everywoman” look.

But the encounter started me thinking, and today I realized the awful truth – I have now completely lost my England curves, and am a stick insect like all the other girls in Singapore, though judging by the ubiquitious newpaper and television ads here for “Super Slimming! Guarantee Results!” you would think us a nation plagued by obesity.

England curves, for those wondering, are the few pounds of extra weight every Singaporean girl seems to put on when she’s at university in the UK, usually due to a combination of cold climate, first year hall food, and subsequent self-indulgence once cooking for herself. (Or for me, being spoiled rotten by butter-lovin’ boyfriend’s great cooking). Since returning to Singapore, despite my strenuous avoidance of exercise and complete lack of dietary restrictions, those pounds have fallen off. I used to come back for the summer, look at girls with pretty faces on the street and muse that they’d be so much more attractive if they weren’t so skinny. These days I look at myself and think the same thing.

I realize this question (and indeed, this whole post) may be incomprehensible to people who aren’t into curves, or people who like skinny Singapore girls just fine, but: how do I gain weight, in a (fairly) healthy way? I want my butt back.

I May Like Hip-Hop But I’m Not A Ho

In every area except music (where Phuture holds its own), Coco Latte is my new hip-hop venue of choice. Compared to Phuture, Coco Latte has a lower cover charge, better decor, more seats, fewer people, and all-importantly, quality music – a good mix between lesser-known hip-hop and party favourites, and some dancehall at the end to reward those of us who were still gamely shaking boo-tay. The crowd was about the same – some inevitable SPGs,¹ some hip-hop heads, and us three girls, who as later events indicated, must have resembled China prostitutes.² Read on.

On the way home, our cab was pulled over at a police roadblock and we were asked to get out of the car. Given that there was no question of drunk driving, we were fairly insistent on being told what we were being pulled over for. The police seemed to think that saying “This is a roadblock” was adequate explanation. When Fay asked again, they said “You mean you’ve never seen a roadblock before?” Finally they said something vague about investigating crimes. Well, duh.

We gave them our identity cards as asked, and stood there waiting as our taxi meter ticked on and our midnight surcharge steadily increased. We were eventually allowed to continue on our way, and had some fun asking our taxi driver which of us looked the most like a China prostitute, but it occurred to me that if I’d gone clubbing the same way I used to in England, with nothing more than cash and keys, I might have run into problems. It amused me later on to wonder how I’d prove I wasn’t a China prostitute without any identification to back me up.

“I can hardly even speak the language!”

“I’m wearing minimal makeup!”

“My Levi’s are authentic!”

etc.etc.

¹ Sarong Party Girls, defined here.
² There is increasing concern here about women from the region who come to Singapore, sometimes on no more than a holiday visa, to work in the sex trade. Many, though not all, are from China.