Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Strange Folks.
Apparently I live with Jesus. He goes by another name (Jonathan) but I don't think anyone's supposed to know that. It's ok. He'll forgive me. Jesus gets turned on by sound editing software. As I type this he's reading from the online Bible.
Francoise, who returned to Paris a couple of days ago. Will reunite for more debauchery in Cambodia in November (hopefully).
Eivind. Who goes off to have pork and beer in Kathmandu in a couple of hours so I've nothing but hate for him right now.
Francoise, who returned to Paris a couple of days ago. Will reunite for more debauchery in Cambodia in November (hopefully).
Eivind. Who goes off to have pork and beer in Kathmandu in a couple of hours so I've nothing but hate for him right now.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Leave
[clockwise]
Did a short interview at the airport with a bunch of folks going to Malaysia for work. They've all been there before, and none of them knew how long they would stay. Read through their contracts too. Very interesting.
More privileged folks driving up to the plane on the runway in their own private car.
Don't imagine, just do!
Pretty.
Her first trip to Singapore to visit her husband who is studying electrical engineering. 20 years old. Did not understand why I wasn't married. I enjoyed looking at how she was adorned.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
It will be one of life's never-ending mysteries why a wife-beater of a man constantly insists on posting God-related, pensive, thoughtful, reflective posts on FB. I think I much prefer him as a straight-up bastard.
I think I may have gone off the radar for a bit, if only because 2009 is turning out to be even more insane than the last -- it could be the same but without a suitable point of reference, I am lost. It's been non-stop madness, and I could be a total bore and recount the things that I've to do, or I could just say that I am secretly starting to relish this non-stop madness because, truth be told, its much better than mooching around in malaise thinking about unsolvable things or spending hours on end watching DVDs.
Plus with a curator/workaholic/fabulous human being living in the house -- its not that bad. House-hunting now is really not fun, and I think I've had just about enough of being in charge of these silly logistical matters (where am I going to get a truck??), and I'm starting to suspect that its actually a curse to be good at these things.
I think I may have gone off the radar for a bit, if only because 2009 is turning out to be even more insane than the last -- it could be the same but without a suitable point of reference, I am lost. It's been non-stop madness, and I could be a total bore and recount the things that I've to do, or I could just say that I am secretly starting to relish this non-stop madness because, truth be told, its much better than mooching around in malaise thinking about unsolvable things or spending hours on end watching DVDs.
Plus with a curator/workaholic/fabulous human being living in the house -- its not that bad. House-hunting now is really not fun, and I think I've had just about enough of being in charge of these silly logistical matters (where am I going to get a truck??), and I'm starting to suspect that its actually a curse to be good at these things.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Evicted.
Also known as the period of time in which I can finally see the rationale for wanting to buy your own house.
So I received a call from the nameless, faceless landlord that I hadn't met, who rather unceremoniously announced that I had to move out by the next month and a half or so. There were a lot of words exchanged, and a lot of other words that I wanted to exchange (such as you are a cunt), and in the end I remembered what Yumei had said about her own situation, I too decided I would rather move than fight to stay and live with the daily uneasiness of knowing I may be kicked out at any moment.
So in the midst of the madness of Chobi Mela and a 150++ page book I've not yet completed designing and final exam grades I've yet to submit, I have to FIND AN APARTMENT in this city where the landlords don't like it if you get too many visitors to your place, or if boys visit girls in that house, or if you aren't married, or if they don't like the look of your face.
In other words, fuck.
So I received a call from the nameless, faceless landlord that I hadn't met, who rather unceremoniously announced that I had to move out by the next month and a half or so. There were a lot of words exchanged, and a lot of other words that I wanted to exchange (such as you are a cunt), and in the end I remembered what Yumei had said about her own situation, I too decided I would rather move than fight to stay and live with the daily uneasiness of knowing I may be kicked out at any moment.
So in the midst of the madness of Chobi Mela and a 150++ page book I've not yet completed designing and final exam grades I've yet to submit, I have to FIND AN APARTMENT in this city where the landlords don't like it if you get too many visitors to your place, or if boys visit girls in that house, or if you aren't married, or if they don't like the look of your face.
In other words, fuck.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Irony
Hong Kong tops ranking for 15th straight year
Michelle TaySINGAPORE has again been ranked the world's second freest economy, after long-time rival Hong Kong, which retains the top position for the 15th straight year.
The Republic scored 87.1 on the Index of Economic Freedom, which is published annually by The Wall Street Journal and American conservative think-tank The Heritage Foundation.
Forfeiture action sought against Koko's accounts in Singapore
The US Department of Justice has moved to confiscate nearly $3 million from bank accounts in Singapore, which are allegedly linked to a bribery scandal in Bangladesh, involving Arafat Rahman Koko, younger son of former prime minister Khaleda Zia.
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Tuesday, December 30, 2008
My dad sent me an message telling me that she had passed away peacefully at 1am last night. She had suffered a bad fall a few weeks back, and I think no one really expected that fall to have been the trigger for a series of unfortunate events. At least, I didn't. So she wasn't as healthy as everyone had thought. She certainly had us fooled -- who would've thought otherwise of her? Impossible.
But my mom told me the scans showed she had two mild strokes previously, so mild that even she herself must've ignored it as a bad headache or just a bad day. Her heart was also weakened, but I'm not sure why.
When I read the message, I had just fallen asleep after returning back from a shoot at 5am. I don't think I quite digested it. I had a dream about it, though, in which I was yelling to someone about the wake arrangements.
It didn't even sink in when I woke up. It was so utterly unexpected that I didn't really know what to do. I was going to go back in March to see her again. My mother had warned me previously, that the doctor had said there was no telling with people her age, but I just shelved that worry aside because, it was her, you know? She had never been ill before this fall, and now this? What the fuck?
I want to write about my last memories of her, because I know I will forget in time to come. My mother and I having tea at Ya Kun in Junction 8. We took some photos with my camera. I want to write about the experience of bringing her to watch 881 in the cinema, and how she kept talking so damn loudly everyone in the front of us kept giggling and laughing. Oh, how she embarrassed us.
But mostly what I feel now is guilt. And anger. I hate guilt, because it is the most self-indulgent of all emotions. But this woman held my hands and told me that she would wait for me, because she wanted the chance to drink wine at my wedding.
I know it was all just rhetoric, just her being naggy and doing her usual get-married-soon routine. It wasn't some kind of serious vow that I should take seriously. But it meant a lot to have heard that, and I haven't forgotten it in the four years since she uttered it, and I haven't forgotten it now. And that's where the anger comes from, that she didn't keep her promise to me. I know she didn't mean it as a promise, but I took it that way.
It's all too late, anyway.
But my mom told me the scans showed she had two mild strokes previously, so mild that even she herself must've ignored it as a bad headache or just a bad day. Her heart was also weakened, but I'm not sure why.
When I read the message, I had just fallen asleep after returning back from a shoot at 5am. I don't think I quite digested it. I had a dream about it, though, in which I was yelling to someone about the wake arrangements.
It didn't even sink in when I woke up. It was so utterly unexpected that I didn't really know what to do. I was going to go back in March to see her again. My mother had warned me previously, that the doctor had said there was no telling with people her age, but I just shelved that worry aside because, it was her, you know? She had never been ill before this fall, and now this? What the fuck?
I want to write about my last memories of her, because I know I will forget in time to come. My mother and I having tea at Ya Kun in Junction 8. We took some photos with my camera. I want to write about the experience of bringing her to watch 881 in the cinema, and how she kept talking so damn loudly everyone in the front of us kept giggling and laughing. Oh, how she embarrassed us.
But mostly what I feel now is guilt. And anger. I hate guilt, because it is the most self-indulgent of all emotions. But this woman held my hands and told me that she would wait for me, because she wanted the chance to drink wine at my wedding.
I know it was all just rhetoric, just her being naggy and doing her usual get-married-soon routine. It wasn't some kind of serious vow that I should take seriously. But it meant a lot to have heard that, and I haven't forgotten it in the four years since she uttered it, and I haven't forgotten it now. And that's where the anger comes from, that she didn't keep her promise to me. I know she didn't mean it as a promise, but I took it that way.
It's all too late, anyway.
老妈
We all thought she would live to a hundred. Ah well. Anything else I say now will sound contrived and horribly unnecessary.
As I go to sleep at 6 am in the morning, admittedly perversely disappointed at the lack of 'action' today, the Awami League is surging ahead with unofficial results declaring them the winner of more than 80% of Parliament seats.
The dudes in the AL office seemed pretty pleased, albeit horribly tired.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Eid-ul-Azha, 2007
Taken a year ago. Yes, it took me a year to get around to editing the others. Jess has nothing to say for herself. Posting this in lieu of this year's event, during which I spent my time cooped up at home engaged in other forms of productivity.
Well, let me just reassure you that when it comes to the sacrificial slaughter of cows -- nothing much has changed in a year.
This was during the time when I still lived in Zigatola. I had asked for permission the day before to take pictures of the sacrifice of this particular bull below. I saw him the night before, and silhouetted by the glow of a single tungsten light bulb, he was absolutely magnificent.
I found out the next day that the sacrifices were pretty much a public event and permission wasn't really required.
The sign on the gate is an announcement for people to come sign up for driving and singing classes.
The photo belies the true size of the animal. If I may be so indulgent to post a photo I had posted a year ago so as to make a proper comparison between the size of its hooves and human hands/feet:
Watching the sacrifice through the lens of my camera, I do believe I was somewhat sheltered from the situation. I told my friends that I would likely cry, but I didn't. I was rather unmoved by the killing itself, and the blood only bothered me because it was everywhere and I couldn't walk back to the house without wading through it. What I remember was being very impressed by the strength of the animal -- the number of men it took to bring the bull down, the number of ropes they had to use to secure it, the fear the men had as they approached it.
Well, let me just reassure you that when it comes to the sacrificial slaughter of cows -- nothing much has changed in a year.
This was during the time when I still lived in Zigatola. I had asked for permission the day before to take pictures of the sacrifice of this particular bull below. I saw him the night before, and silhouetted by the glow of a single tungsten light bulb, he was absolutely magnificent.
I found out the next day that the sacrifices were pretty much a public event and permission wasn't really required.
The sign on the gate is an announcement for people to come sign up for driving and singing classes.
The photo belies the true size of the animal. If I may be so indulgent to post a photo I had posted a year ago so as to make a proper comparison between the size of its hooves and human hands/feet:
Watching the sacrifice through the lens of my camera, I do believe I was somewhat sheltered from the situation. I told my friends that I would likely cry, but I didn't. I was rather unmoved by the killing itself, and the blood only bothered me because it was everywhere and I couldn't walk back to the house without wading through it. What I remember was being very impressed by the strength of the animal -- the number of men it took to bring the bull down, the number of ropes they had to use to secure it, the fear the men had as they approached it.
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