Not Another Poptart Post

Another month, another great Poptart. That much greater for the fact that more of my friends turned up for this one than before...the same five as the last time, plus four inductees. The days of me dancing stupidly on my own and feeling resentment towards cooler-than-thou people are over (I hope). The days of me aching for every other girl on the dancefloor are over too. Now I am either too distracted by communal revelry to dwell on my desires, or I ease my ache by comparing notes with my chums in our post-clubbing declarations of lust...all in good fun, of course.

Christmas eve's Poptart still remains the greatest session ever, but on the whole, things are getting better. The crowd's interacting more and more with the deejays, rushing to the decks and reaching out for them as if they were the singers of the bands being played. The deejays in turn are feeling and working the crowd. Even the crowd is working itself...my friends and I agreed to open the bodysurfing floodgates and we just knew, at the same time, when that moment was (for the record it was Suede's "New Generation"). I learnt just how important this crowd sentiment is when I attempted to bodysurf during The Tears' "Lovers", which I love but people didn't really get into...I ended up being dropped on my head because I surfed into a big gap on the dancefloor(!!)

A highlight of the night was when Adrian spun a remix of "Bizarre Love Triangle" and segued it into a propulsive drum loop which few could identify...until the familiar hook came on, and we realised it was a thundering DJ mix of Franz Ferdinand's "Do You Want To". And what would Poptart be without its de facto anthem, The Arcade Fire's "Wake Up"? I guess this picture, which I took during the song, sums it up really:



As icing on the cake, the electronic billboard at Home announced that the next Poptart is on 11 Feb. It will be a fitting kick-off to a truly manic month: Poptart (11 Feb), Franz Ferdinand 'live' at the Indoor Stadium (16 Feb), Bangkok 100 Rock Fest (18-19 Feb), Oasis 'live' at the Indoor Stadium (26 Feb), Erlend Oye's DJ set at the Esplanade (15 Mar), Kings of Convenience 'live' at the Esplanade Concert Hall (16 Mar), with another Poptart right after the gig. Oh my God!! (Oh my depleted bank account!!)

Thank God it's This Kind of Friday

This is my idea of a night: heading straight from work to a jamming studio that you haven't been to before, and realising it's easily the best of the four you've been to so far. Focusing on a single song, listening to the riffs your lead guitarist has come up with and discussing the transition to the chorus with your drummer. Laughing with your bandmates as each take falls apart.

Calling your other friends whom you planned to join for drinks after the jamming session, and finding out they are already calling it a night. Deciding, on the spur of the moment, to grab two beers from the nearest 7-eleven and downing them with your drummer on the steps of the old Supreme Court building. Discussing the band's future and various personal issues while watching the cars pass. Leaving the cans behind and running to catch the last bus / train home.

The spontaneity; the escapism of it all. This kind of night is so simple and so easy to achieve, yet it took me years to find the right people to experience it with. But now that I've finally met them, there'll be many more yet.

Memoirs of a Geisha-Watcher

The beautiful thing about theatre is its power of suggestion. A skilled actor can portray any character or situation even if he has nothing but a black leotard on and a blank stage to work with. He can do this regardless of age, appearance or gender, and be utterly convincing.

It's just not the same with cinema. Because camera angles, location shoots and digital sound leave little to the imagination, film triumphs less through suggestion than authenticity.

This is an area where Memoirs of a Geisha fails miserably. As a Chinese, not only do I find the idea of Zhang Ziyi, Gong Li and Michelle Yeoh portraying a quintessential aspect of Japanese culture to be odd, I find it downright insulting. It reinforces the idea that all Asians are the same to Caucasians, and that there are only about five of them in the popular consciousness of the entire Western Hemisphere.

It doesn't help that the entire supporting cast are bona fide Japanese--that only makes the leads stick out more. The use of English dialogue peppered with Japanese terms further heightens the artifice of the film--Yeoh's forced intonations of words like "Danna" and "Nitta" are particularly grating.

Basically, the entire show smacks of cultural voyeurism. What could have been a compelling insight into a closely guarded tradition turned out to be a thinly veiled exercise in exoticism, without any real empathy for its characters. At the show's end, I remained unconvinced that Sayuri went through all she did to be with the Chairman on account of a brief childhood encounter with him. Perhaps this is addressed with more depth in the novel, but I haven't read it.

Having said all this, it's not a bad film. It's entertaining and engaging in the way that mainstream Hollywood fare is, and the use of elegant zen-like phrases and descriptions from the book give it a touch of class. A personal favourite is Sayuri's recollection of a poem in front of a temple, called 'loss', which consists of only three words. There's more to it but I won't spoil it here.

The real treat of the night, however, has to be child actress Suzuka Ohgo. All of 12 years of age, she gives me the same jailbait goosebumps that Natalie Portman did in her prepubescent debut in Leon (a.k.a. The Professional). Here is a shot of her with a smile so disarming it can end a nuclear war.



Already in an A-list film, it's only a question of time before she grows up and pays her acting dues by baring her as-yet unformed chest on the big screen. But let's not go there just yet...

Don't Start Giving Me Ideas Now...

Spotted at City Hall MRT:

...do I just have a filthy mind, or is there really something inappropriate about this advertisement??

Between Bangkok and a Hard Place

Warning: this is a bitch post.

So I was thrilled when a friend told me about the Bangkok 100 Rock Festival two months ago. So I was psyched up when he said he would arrange for his family to get tickets for us when we they went up to the Thai capital in December. So I was bummed when for some reason, he only got tickets for his girlfriend and himself. So I was ecstatic when another friend of mine holidaying in Bangkok helped me buy the most expensive ticket at the drop of an SMS. So I was annoyed when the first friend went ahead and made all the flight and accommodation arrangements for his girlfriend and himself, leaving me out of the picture probably assuming:

1. That I would stay in a different hotel / hostel and somehow be able to find him among 100,000 revellers during the gigs,
2. That I would be able to return to an empty room each night after the performances and not feel like an absolute retard (NB: highs must always be shared...think about the difference between drinking with friends and drinking alone)

So I tried knocking on every door, begging and pleading with my Poptart Posse to make the trip with me. Along the way, I was floored by the revelation that the weeks before and after the Festival will be mega crunch time at my workplace (due to the nature of our work). Faced with the prospect of flying out on Friday night and back into Singapore on Sunday, I tried to pitch the experience as a hit-and-run adventure; as a chance to take a rock n' roll holiday over the weekend and show the metaphorical finger to our employers in the process. I told my friends exactly what I was thinking: What will you remember of 2006 on 31 December? That you spent every weekend catching up with work, or that you got away with being part of a Glasto-style festival near home?

No-one's bitten yet.

Now I could go into a much deeper rant about how jealous I am of other people who have regular travel companions who would literally go to the ends of the earth with them. I could rant about how I've hardly travelled in my whole life, and now that I have the spending power to, I'm foiled by friends who are overwhelmed by work--friends who can sacrifice this travel experience because they've had so many already. But I'll come across as a self-consumed ass if I do, so I won't.

I'll just say this: time is running out. Either I scalp my ticket before everyone who intends to go gets one; or I find a travel buddy and book flights and accomodation before they're all snapped up.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't. So what should I do?

Epiphanies

Last night was the kind of night that opens one's eyes. For the past year and a half, I lived my life based on beliefs I held about some people I know. I always remained guarded with them. Yet, I secretly wanted and worked towards becoming like them.

But last night I heard things I never dreamt I would hear. Loosened by alcohol and compelled by the deepness of the night, they spoke of their vulnerability, regret, and the things that really mattered to them. I heard beliefs that deeply resonated with me, and saw uncanny parallels where there once seemed to be none. I saw tears. Real tears.

Essentially, I heard all I needed to know to straighten out some long-standing personal issues.

We walked off the conversation in step with each other, spontaneously singing the songs of our teenage years. When we went our separate ways, I felt like the luckiest guy on Earth. My friends, not feeling as lucky, felt comforted and united in commiseration.

I reached home at 4 in the morning, made myself a cup of instant noodles and lay in bed till the first cracks of light appeared in the sky. Staring at the ceiling and feeling the cold air awakening my skin, I pondered about Life, about people I know, about pretence and honesty. I felt older, a little uncomfortable, and felt like life was beginning again.

Beginnings

And so, 2006 is upon us. I celebrated its arrival with six friends in a swanky hotel room. We played drinking games, reminisced about the year just past, sang the songs of our youth and headed out to the poolside to gaze into the night sky. At the stroke of midnight, we charged into the streets, screaming in delight as we raced towards the nearby clubs, stolen balloons trailing in our hands. We narrowly missed the collective countdown, but didn't allow that to dampen our spirits as we cheered and released our helium-filled orbs into the sky.



Not too far away, a fireworks display began. We could only catch a glimpse of it through the gaps between the buildings across the road. It was the first time I'd ever seen fireworks in person. Photographs and newsreels don't do justice to them--their measured ascent; their immense and graceful expansion; their suspension. This photo I share with you captures little of this, but it does reflect where I find myself in life at the moment: gazing through the cracks at the brilliance that constantly lies just out of reach. Well, at least I think I'm looking in the right direction. Happy New Year, everyone.