We are a generation of people, in which communication and commercial media form an important role, pervading our lives. We become so manufactured in all aspects that it is difficult to tell people apart from one another. We become so obedient to every whim of the system, and we live, unquestioning every move we make.
As Leslie Low sang the song from Humpback Oak days, Anti-citizen, he desires to break down the system, re-educate, re-allocate.
*uncompleted post* ... my fingers take to their resting places.
and musicians like Freddie Mercury are quite extra-ordinary..
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Bohemian Rhapsody
performed by Queen, written and sung by Freddie Mercury)
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see!
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy!
Because I'm easy come, easy go,
A little high, little low,
Anyway the wind blows, doesnt really matter to me,
To me
Mama, just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead,
Mama, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and thrown it all away-
Mama, ooo,
Didn't mean to make you cry-
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow-
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters-
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine-
Body's aching all the time,
Goodbye everybody, I've got to go-
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth-
Mama ooo- (any way the wind blows)
I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all-
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, scaramouche will you do the fandango-
Thunderbolt and lightning- very very frightening me-
Galileo! galileo!
Galileo! galileo!
Galileo! figaro-magnifico-
But I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me-
He's just a poor boy from a poor family!
Spare him his life from this monstrosity!
Easy come easy go-, will you let me go-
Bismillah! no we will not let you go- let him go!
Bismillah! we will not let you go- let him go!
Bismillah! we will not let you go- let me go!
Will not let you go- let me go!
Will not let you go let me go!
No, no, no, no, no, no, no-
Mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go-
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me-
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye-
So you think you can love me and leave me to die-
Oh baby- can't do this to me baby-
Just gotta get out- just gotta get right outta here-
Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters-, nothing really matters to me,
Any way the wind blows...
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see!
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy!
Because I'm easy come, easy go,
A little high, little low,
Anyway the wind blows, doesnt really matter to me,
To me
Mama, just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead,
Mama, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and thrown it all away-
Mama, ooo,
Didn't mean to make you cry-
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow-
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters-
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine-
Body's aching all the time,
Goodbye everybody, I've got to go-
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth-
Mama ooo- (any way the wind blows)
I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all-
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, scaramouche will you do the fandango-
Thunderbolt and lightning- very very frightening me-
Galileo! galileo!
Galileo! galileo!
Galileo! figaro-magnifico-
But I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me-
He's just a poor boy from a poor family!
Spare him his life from this monstrosity!
Easy come easy go-, will you let me go-
Bismillah! no we will not let you go- let him go!
Bismillah! we will not let you go- let him go!
Bismillah! we will not let you go- let me go!
Will not let you go- let me go!
Will not let you go let me go!
No, no, no, no, no, no, no-
Mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go-
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me-
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye-
So you think you can love me and leave me to die-
Oh baby- can't do this to me baby-
Just gotta get out- just gotta get right outta here-
Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters-, nothing really matters to me,
Any way the wind blows...
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Cremated
The Cremation took place in the late afternoon @ Mandai Crematorium and Columbarium.
Words without pictures.
- A documentation of the events
When the rites were over (and more to follow).
I.
Relatives, we donned our ceremonial white socks,
queued in a single-file, and listened
for the undertaker's instructions.
With heavy hearts, our socks wept over the floor
as we took our turns beside Grandma's body:
shed uncontrollable tears, and bid our fond farewells.
II.
Peeking through the glass panel,
I see her sleeping peacefully in the coffin.
A white pearl seated on the ridges of her lips*
From the range of floral wreaths,
the prettiest flowers were picked
to be laid above the coffin,
wheeled into the back of the van.
III.
We marched one thousand metres
in the vapours of the afternoon heat.
Through her familiar neighbourhood,
like how she used to shop for groceries,
before the diminishing strength in her legs.
Duty, filial piety - part of a man's pride,
Dad, and the youngest son, second-son-in-line,
and the eldest son (grandson in stead),
pushing the Undertaker's Van,
with recorded buddhist chantings.
The sun shining brightly on our faces,
some were teary-eyed, some pale
from worry for Grandma's soul.
It was surreal, as if being captured
on a black and white photograph.
IV.
The onlookers,
shuffling aimlessly past
in either direction.
A pedestrian,
standing on the overhead bridge,
or waiting at the bus-stop.
The ignorant rabble
caught a glimpse of our emotions,
as we paraded past them.
We did not return their glances
our heads bowed deep
in sorrow and reflection.
V.
My dear second Aunt was very worried,
that burning Grandma's body was
not the correct decision.
What if her soul was trapped within
her physical confines?
I mumbled away,
"Burning would be good"
No more denial - no more vexing questions.
From a body to ashes.
ashes to be selectively picked by
her sons and daughters,
to be placed in an urn like Grandpa's.
I guess she's gone for good,
and we'd have to live with her memories.
Everything that has happened,
was meant to happen.
Vita brevis ad infineteur. and Memento mori.
How it all rings in my head now.
*Tale of the Empress Dowager's body being preserved by a precious pearl, whereupon extraction of the pearl, decayed instantly into a fragmented, blackening, rotten corpse.
Words without pictures.
- A documentation of the events
When the rites were over (and more to follow).
I.
Relatives, we donned our ceremonial white socks,
queued in a single-file, and listened
for the undertaker's instructions.
With heavy hearts, our socks wept over the floor
as we took our turns beside Grandma's body:
shed uncontrollable tears, and bid our fond farewells.
II.
Peeking through the glass panel,
I see her sleeping peacefully in the coffin.
A white pearl seated on the ridges of her lips*
From the range of floral wreaths,
the prettiest flowers were picked
to be laid above the coffin,
wheeled into the back of the van.
III.
We marched one thousand metres
in the vapours of the afternoon heat.
Through her familiar neighbourhood,
like how she used to shop for groceries,
before the diminishing strength in her legs.
Duty, filial piety - part of a man's pride,
Dad, and the youngest son, second-son-in-line,
and the eldest son (grandson in stead),
pushing the Undertaker's Van,
with recorded buddhist chantings.
The sun shining brightly on our faces,
some were teary-eyed, some pale
from worry for Grandma's soul.
It was surreal, as if being captured
on a black and white photograph.
IV.
The onlookers,
shuffling aimlessly past
in either direction.
A pedestrian,
standing on the overhead bridge,
or waiting at the bus-stop.
The ignorant rabble
caught a glimpse of our emotions,
as we paraded past them.
We did not return their glances
our heads bowed deep
in sorrow and reflection.
V.
My dear second Aunt was very worried,
that burning Grandma's body was
not the correct decision.
What if her soul was trapped within
her physical confines?
I mumbled away,
"Burning would be good"
No more denial - no more vexing questions.
From a body to ashes.
ashes to be selectively picked by
her sons and daughters,
to be placed in an urn like Grandpa's.
I guess she's gone for good,
and we'd have to live with her memories.
Everything that has happened,
was meant to happen.
Vita brevis ad infineteur. and Memento mori.
How it all rings in my head now.
*Tale of the Empress Dowager's body being preserved by a precious pearl, whereupon extraction of the pearl, decayed instantly into a fragmented, blackening, rotten corpse.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Notice :(
Dear Blog-readers.
KNOW THIS - on the 19th of MAY, Saturday, around 7.20 pm - my lovely Grandma - 81 years old - passed away peacefully, on her deathbed in her own home, and will be, forever sleeping among the stars.
Printed on her Death Certificate, the diagnoses:
1) Adeno Carcinoma of unknown origin with Metastasis to the bone
2) Lung Carcinoma
Her disease onset was 5 years. And severely crippling her for the last 2 months,
Her four sons and six daughters, gathered around her small bedroom, to see her off during the last moments.
It was a heart-wrenching experience for me, the hapless grandson, to be away from her side until late Saturday morning, only able to talk to someone unconscious, semi-comatose (quoting an Aunt). She was no doubt, suffering in the hospital ward. So my aunties and uncles got her discharged, and an ambulance to transport her back to her home @ 74 Marine Drive.
I hope Grandma's soul would remain at peace, and get reincarnated soon. Preferably, to be a bird would not be such a bad thing (quoting an Aunt).
I would not have the mood to blog for awhile. Out of respect for her - the best Grandma I've had - I have to reflect and recollect my memories.
=
Dear Bro.
If you'd agree with me and Mom and Dad (and Grandma's advice to keep you in the dark.), it wasn't a good idea to tell you straight away. But we're glad you found out, and hope you'd get better after a few days of mourning.
I'm staying in the wake for the next few days until Wednesday.
KNOW THIS - on the 19th of MAY, Saturday, around 7.20 pm - my lovely Grandma - 81 years old - passed away peacefully, on her deathbed in her own home, and will be, forever sleeping among the stars.
Printed on her Death Certificate, the diagnoses:
1) Adeno Carcinoma of unknown origin with Metastasis to the bone
2) Lung Carcinoma
Her disease onset was 5 years. And severely crippling her for the last 2 months,
Her four sons and six daughters, gathered around her small bedroom, to see her off during the last moments.
It was a heart-wrenching experience for me, the hapless grandson, to be away from her side until late Saturday morning, only able to talk to someone unconscious, semi-comatose (quoting an Aunt). She was no doubt, suffering in the hospital ward. So my aunties and uncles got her discharged, and an ambulance to transport her back to her home @ 74 Marine Drive.
I hope Grandma's soul would remain at peace, and get reincarnated soon. Preferably, to be a bird would not be such a bad thing (quoting an Aunt).
I would not have the mood to blog for awhile. Out of respect for her - the best Grandma I've had - I have to reflect and recollect my memories.
=
Dear Bro.
If you'd agree with me and Mom and Dad (and Grandma's advice to keep you in the dark.), it wasn't a good idea to tell you straight away. But we're glad you found out, and hope you'd get better after a few days of mourning.
I'm staying in the wake for the next few days until Wednesday.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The Weight of an Elephant's Dream
Check it out @ *scape. It was a rainy day and I've been daydreaming a lot myself these days.
Decided to stop by around Orchard road after reading the ad on ST.
Here's some photos of the exhibition I got from Shuxian's LJ.
All of the above art is done by the NTU graduate, Shu Xian & friends Cherie, Hong Jun, and Samuel. I have absolutely no ownership of their work and no affiliation to them, but I very much admire what they have created. Woah... painting on walls, chopping boards, video exhibits of blue men. And also bitch a little about life in Singapore... with style!
I think it went somewhere along these lines:
"Singapore is an Elephant
It makes people dream big things...
..Big things = very heavy.
I am depressed."
My favourite was an improvisational drawing on the animated blue men (second photo from above). It was this little guy who kept on bowing madly. He was put into the context of being in the midst of a group of Japanese businessmen.. and you know now why he bowed like mad. It is hilarious, I tell you! XD
Shuxian's LJ is full of Art, but bewarned - not for those who get easily offended / conservatives - R21 drawings. I especially liked this entry and this one years ago - being an artist isn't easy. (I can imagine the inherent psychological battles and mental barriers that serve as input, to twist out the creative output - like juicing an orange?)
(excerpt from Shuxian's LJ archive)
Some poetry
put to sleep,
destined for slaughter
(XvX)
The host of fowl shared
a common dream of reincarnation,
and hastened their feathered bodies
across the conveyor belt.
The factory operator wipes
the sickly sweat off his brow.
A vegetarian himself,
he shakes his head in disgust,
and utters a buddhist scripture
under his cotton face mask.
Their conciousness melted,
somewhere further down the line,
where they were put to sleep,
by a sterile hypodermic needle.
The feathers were unplucked
to reveal a gross white fat.
Their shivering bare flesh hung in mid-air,
commanding the stark shadows on the floor.
That they revered in newfound freedom,
of the stinking bird coop
where they once lived.
As the steamer sang and hissed in triumph,
the metal grimace yawned wide open,
to reveal an impending darkness.
(XvX)
Surely this is good enough reason,
good enough respect for a living being,
to give prayer for the sanctity of life,
and thanks to the food.
Amen.
The first time in a long while, guilty feelings have crept in while eating food.
I ate Chicken Cutlet at a Western Food hawker stall that does a fair bit of evangelism.
(XvX)
destined for slaughter
(XvX)
The host of fowl shared
a common dream of reincarnation,
and hastened their feathered bodies
across the conveyor belt.
The factory operator wipes
the sickly sweat off his brow.
A vegetarian himself,
he shakes his head in disgust,
and utters a buddhist scripture
under his cotton face mask.
Their conciousness melted,
somewhere further down the line,
where they were put to sleep,
by a sterile hypodermic needle.
The feathers were unplucked
to reveal a gross white fat.
Their shivering bare flesh hung in mid-air,
commanding the stark shadows on the floor.
That they revered in newfound freedom,
of the stinking bird coop
where they once lived.
As the steamer sang and hissed in triumph,
the metal grimace yawned wide open,
to reveal an impending darkness.
(XvX)
Surely this is good enough reason,
good enough respect for a living being,
to give prayer for the sanctity of life,
and thanks to the food.
Amen.
The first time in a long while, guilty feelings have crept in while eating food.
I ate Chicken Cutlet at a Western Food hawker stall that does a fair bit of evangelism.
(XvX)
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