really a REQUIEMM

in case you are wondering,
this ~ means i shrugged my shoulders.
ok?
~
just testing.
i've always been in love with perverting punctuation.
my favourite so far has been colons.
but this.
this is so cool.
i invented a new one.
putting together punctuation and body language.
body language ==> ~ <== punctuation.
it is only the start...

talking about starts, i have recently started my new term.
and it is busy. busy busy busy.
or busy compared to the kind of lifestlye i had during june, july and august.
it's hard work ok?
mostly the classes are funner this time round.
except for government, but thats a prerequisite.
and i decided to take spanish in person this time.
no more half hour videos once every week.
its 5 hours a week!
who'd've thunk it?
but my professor, or mi profesora
is something else.
she is a ukrainian-born translator who
spent the back half of her childhood in cuba
during the height of the soviet union,
speaks six languages,
graduated from and was a professor at the top university in kiev,
protested against the governement there,
then came to the states,
liked it here
and taught herself english.
you heard mi.
and became a university professor at Rice
then moved to dallas because she wanted to teach more and
not write so many scholastic papers.
mental.
and she's not even fifty.

and she thinks the world of mi.
she thinks i'm a super hardworking student (dun laugh)
who can pronounciate (that's a new word, in case you were wondering.
if your weren't, you should have been.
life rewards the curious.)
spanish like the spanish
and is one of the few people in class who can actually
understand what she is saying (she only speaks in spanish
in class to train us)
and hold a proper conversation with her in spanish
plus the fact that i'm the only asian in the class.(at that point, i was blushing).
and of course she said this to mi in private.
i would just die if the whole class thought i was a good student.
now. that is really mental.
and to top it off,
i've made friends with this really
exotic
cultured
coffee-coloured
mexican who dun speak spanish and is trying to learn.
fucking mental.

i'm enrolled in history 2 and art appreciation with one of my taiwanese friends.
joann.
whose boyfriend has dissappeared over the summer
and i'm not about to ask why.
her english is as bad as my chinese.
maybe a little better.
its pretty hard to be worse than my chinese.
she is probably more crude than i am
and has the most fucked-up stationery on earth.
i will never borrow a pencil from her ever again.
you don't even want to know.

im just trying to get into the swing of things.
will let you know when i do.
but then again,
when have i ever gotten into the swing of things?
never.
does it matter?
~
and i'm having problems with writing full sentences without breaking
them off in mid-line (just like that)
and i'm also having trouble with remembering to capitalise (and i'm also having trouble with remembering to put a 'z' where an 's' is supposed to be)
(and i also write too many
things in brackets and break
off the bracket parts in midsentence as well.
talk about overkill of run-on lines)
the first letter
of every sentence.
see lah, the blog is propagating my very bad writing habits.
i also dun dot my 'i's, but that's old news.
also,

y'all are shitheads. (except the nice people. you know who you are. if you have to guess,
you probably are not.)
not one email.
dun even drop in on msn to ask how i am,
nevermind the fact that i'm not at the computer.
not to say that i wasn't expecting this.~
y'all are like stars.
you know, those twinkly things
blinking from far out in the sky?
yup.
stars dun send mi emails either.
~

REQUIEM

'excuse me, Mr. Ng, would you like a drink before take-off?'
'a baccardi and coke please.'
if no one was going to commemorate my leaving singapore,
i had damn well do it myself.
that about set the tone for the flight.
~

you MUST excuse mi.
i'm not feeling mentally right at the moment.
or rather,
less right than normal.
the reason:
if you haven't noticed,
i've left the country.
and you should have noticed,
because i remember kicking up a huge bitchy fuss over it
and making it a point to let everyone in the whole goddamn world know that i was leaving.

but looking back,
who the hell did i think i was?
i just can't go barging in back into singapore
expecting everyone to drop what they're doing
and humour mi.
and the crazier thing was that i was actually dissappointed when they didn't.
telling you the truth,
i'm actually not in the slightest inclined to blog.
but nat boon was updating his blog earlier and put on the pressure.
so ,exc use the badwriting.
i actually intended to call edward over skype and like bitch and moan about
the whole thing.
but i think he's avoiding mi.
which is not too hard to do,
considering that i'm 10 000 miles away.

but,
i just felt really down that no one thought it was a big deal that i was leaving.
maybe they did.
but i was just too fucked up to notice.
maybe because
('maybe because' is really realli rally bad english)
i was expecting this big reaction ,
i failed to see
all the small, sincere gestures.
i really got too much faith in yall.

if edward is reading this,
i would like to make an apology (very sincere tone):
i'm really sorry that i called so often.
but it was great to have someone to talk about things to.
i wouldn't have called so much,
but it got kind of addictive.
sometimes, i just had to say what was on my mind.
and most of the things i said,
i would never have told other people.
although i must say that i've completely forgotten what i've said.
it also helps that you actually listen.
it's so hard to find people who take mi seriously anymore.

to the point,
there are so many ways to thank someone,
but remember,
i'm going for sincerity,
so,
thank you.
it was special.

i'm sorry.
does that sound too gay?
because to mi it does.
does being sincere mean you have to sound gay?
maybe it does.
come to think of it,
simeon does strike you as very honest.
kevin also said he looks like a smurf.
(not true.
smurfs are blue.)

about twenty4 hours before my flight,
i was just lying down on the spare bed in the spare room,
thinking about my unspecial farewell lunch,
feeling sorry for myself.
then i got a fonecall or i made a fonecall.
one or the other.
but the amazing thing is how much a fonecall can brighten you up.
and i had five of them.
so i would like to say thank you to five wonderful people.

okok.
i give up.
i forgot who they were.

you know what?
of course you don't know,
that's why i'm going to tell you.
another thing i like about blogs,
you don't get interrupted by people calling you 'crazy' or 'stupid' or 'both'.
both is not actually an insult.
anyway,
i was going to tell you what.
the reason i felt so sorry for myself was that
i felt that no one thought it particularly momentous that i was leaving.
(actually a few did. but they were the ones who were looking forward to it.)
and even worse,
on the day i left,
i met edward for lunch
and he didn't even say a proper gooodbye.
or maybe he did,
and i wasn't listening,
but the thing is:
deep down, i realised that it was ok if people didn't think
that my leaving was such an incredible affair.
i knew it wasn't.
then why should i want people to think that it was?
maybe i'm just an attention-seeking piece of shit.

don't i have anything nice to say about myself today?
oh yes!
i have nice teeth.
very striaght, never needed correcting
and damn near perfect, if i may say so.
of course, you may, i think you're entitled to.
all my dentists have said that i've got a beautiful set of teeth.

back to the attention-seeking piece of shit part.
digging deeper,
maybe it's all because i felt so out of place when i came back.
like i wasn't needed anymore.
and let mi tell you now,
that's a terrible feeling.
solutions?
can't think of some. in fact, can't even think of one.
distractions?
eat lots of chocolate.
the darker the better.
and you'll be filled with happiness and warmth.
and to that fire,
may sadness be as wax.

ASHES TO ASHES

it was beautiful.
they even had one which sparkled then exploded
then fell down like golden rain.
i even got hit by a piece of that while it was still burning.
noshit.
i kept it in a ricola box and it's still in my bag now.
it dun actually look like much.
just a charred lump
which has since broken up into a black powder.
but it was so amazingly fantastic.

as usual,
i started the blog somewhere in the middle.
ms fong told mi it's a really good way of reading books.
you read the middle first
the go back to the beginning to find out how things got to be the way they were in the middle
then you read to the end to find out what happens next.
so, you've just read the middle.
now, we go back to the start:

edward (again) met mi at bukit panjang bus interchange at about 4 pm.
now, i dun think he needs any introduction as i already gave yall
an entire paragraph about him in the little india blog.
we caught a 960 down to the bugis/arab street area.
now.

as i'm writing,
i'm trying to figure out how to do this
in a way that dun make mi look
immoral, deliquent or degenerate.
but then,
that's not the point issit?
you have to
expose
yourself and your innermost feelings
no matter how uncomfortable you are with doing that.
that's how you blog.

to get straight to the point,
which i seem to do so rarely these days
because i seem to be so easily sidetracked by the slightest thing
and like go off on a tangent.
most people find it a quite irritating habit,
but,
really, it isn't. all they have to do is
pay a bit more attention to the conversation and flow with it.
sorry.
fine.
the point:
we went to arab street with the intention of smoking shishah. but
as it was very hot and too early in the day for that sort of thing,
we decided to share a pack of cigarettes instead.
now,
promise you won't think badly of us.
i dun look like a smoker do i?
n dun get mi wrong either,
we did not finish one pack in a sitting.
and it is not a habit.
and we are big boys and know how to take care of ourselves.
and i know it's not a good thing to do.
in fact, it's a really bad thing to do.
and we've only ever done it once in a while
and just to relax at that.

but then, the busybody, the voyeur, the nosy parker in you asks:
'fine. fine. very well. we know what you did. but what we really want to know is
how you felt?'
well. it was all very calming.
and it didn't seem to be wrong at all.
it just seemed to be something you did with a friend.
to tell you the truth, la verdad,
i dun feel guilty at all.
should i?

my handfone rings.
it's shaun tham.
he says to meet him at the bugis mrt station.
at about the same time,
edward's girlfriend calls him.
she wants to meet him at city hall mrt. but in like an hour and a half.
so we meet up with shaun tham and walk with him towards the esplanade.
esplanaid/esplanard
whatever the hell you want to call it.
i suppose now would be a good time to tell you what is actually going on today.
simeon's plan, el plan de simeon:

principal aim:
to watch the national day fireworks
secondary aim:
to have a yummy dinner afterward
venue:
the merlion
el tiempo:
6.forty-five pm
organiser:
simeon chen
coordinator:
sean ng
dramatis personnae:
simeon chen
jeremy wong
jt
yuet chiong
shaun tham
edward liauw and the mrs.
sean ng
degree of difficulty:
idiot-proof
who deserves a pat on the back:
sean ng
who did not get one:
sean ng
why:
just wait and see...

if you were sharp, nitpicking little shits,
you would have picked up that we were supposed to go to the merlion, not the esplanade.
that's just the start of it.
shaun tham and i were walking along citylink (edward had already gone to meet his girlfriend).
it was crowded like i've never see it before.
it took like 5 minutes to get down one flight of stairs.
but then, we had earlier realised that there was no possibility of walking above ground.
the whole place was cordoned off by the military.
let mi just tell you now,
we live in dangerous times.
and when i saw all the tanks and soldiers i knew it could only mean one thing:
this was a coup.

'sean ng, what the hell do you know?'
jeremy wong had called mi to ask mi where the others were meeting.
i had told him to call simeon.
he had told mi to go fuck myself.

as i'm writing,
i'm trying to figure out how to do this
in a way that dun make mi look
immoral, deliquent or degenerate.
but then,
that's not the point issit?
you have to
expose
yourself and your innermost feelings
no matter how uncomfortable you are with doing that.
that's how you blog.

as Dumbledore said, 'soon, we must all choose between what is right and what is easy...'
fine.
i'll come clean with you:
i lied. to many, many, many people
many, many, many times.
i had led several people to believe
that the dramatis personnae were quite a bit more numerous and
included ryan siah. who in like the past month has become a total recluse.
now, the night before the event,
everybody had said yes. but on national day,
i got people calling mi to cancel left and right.
so i had to do something to salvage simeon's plan.
something drastic.
let mi just say in my defense that calling a couple dozen people and arranging times and
persuading them all to come is an extremely hard task.
and simeon made mi do it.
*
simeon: i'm sure you can do it lah.

mi: you're mental.

simeon: you'll do a good job. i got faith in you...
*
ryan siah: i dun wanna go... i got alot of work...

mi: you know what? fine. i'm tired of asking you again and again and pretending that i have manners. but i just want to ask you one last thing. and please do this for mi. later in the day, yuet chiong will call. and can you please tell him you're going.

ryan siah: why?

mi: because he told mi he would only go if you were going. and i told him you were...
*
it's things like that just come back to bite you in the ass.
fuck.

'why excactly are we going to the esplanaid?' i asked shaun tham.
'because there's a big tv screen there where you can watch the parade. and it's esplanard.'
'oh ok. no it's not. esplanaid. most definitely. esplanard is for artsy fartsy faux french shitheads.'
'no. you're wrong. you're always wrong sean ng.'
'no i am not.'
naid. nard. however you want to pronounce it.
but if i had paid attention to what was being said instead of how it was being said,
i would have noticed that esplanade sounded very much like trouble.

meanwhile...
(from simeon's point of view)
'where the hell are you, sean ng?!' i'm shouting over the fone. in a simeony way, of course. just
to make sure that people are aware that i am simeon.
where exactly the hell is he?
sounds like he's at the parade.
sometimes i just wanna...
'you have to speak up, i can't exactly hear you.'
fuck.
where is everyone else?
how am i going to bring people to the merlion if sean ng wun even tell me who's going?
i've only got like yuet chiong and jt here...
this is all going to hell in a handbasket...
hey... i would never say that. bloody sean ng. can't even get my character right.

meanwhile...
(from jeremy wong's point of view)
call simeon, call simeon...
what kind of directions are those?
and simeon's fone is engaged!
who the hell would he be talking to?
'FUCK!'
...people should stop looking at me now.

meanwhile...
(from nat boon's point of view)
how come sean ng hasn't called to tell me the details yet?
i thought he told me that they were going out today...

meanwhile...
(back to mi)
we've just finished watching the uniform people and their march past on the big
tv screen.
shuan tham says we can go now.
only...
how?
not only is the esplanade beyond crowded,
they've closed the esplanade bridge.
now how are we going to get to the merlion?
oops.

if a solution wishes to present itself,
now would be the time.
my handfone rings. it's edward.

edward: me and my girlfriend are at the front entrance of the esplanade.
come meet us there.

hey.
you take what you can get.

so we went to the front entrance of the esplanade
but not without arguing about shaun tham about which one was the front entrance.

shaun tham: it's that one lah, you asshole.

mi: no. shut up. it's there...

fuck.
he was right.
it's just not fair you know...
you'd've thunk (some of my favourite perverisons of the english language)
that i've been wrong so many times,
that i'm due to be right.
but no!
goes aginst like every law of probability.

anyways, the front entrance to the esplanade is like packed.
can't seem to see anyone.
how does edward expect mi to pick him out
in such a big crowd?
i'm going to call him.
'no need. i see him,' shaun tham points in like a vague direction then says, 'i'm going into the esplanade first. you bring them in.'
sounded like an order. i dunno. he's so touchy tonight.
whatever.
i walk in the direction of wherever the hell shaun tham was pointing.
until, i see them,
'hello. nice to see yall again.'

now, i've been thinking.
sometimes i do that, just to see what i'm missing out on.
anyway: i was thinking.
and not just randomly. but about something.
but i decided. i am not going to leave people nameless and faceless.
i had toyed with the idea
of just leaving edward's gf out of it.
seeing as i haven't asked his permission
and he may tell mi off for like giving away too much of his private life.

but fuck what he thinks/he'll kill mi.
let's compromise:
he'll fucking kill mi.
nope:
a short paragraph about edward and christine:
(much better compromise)

they met in poly.
they are both in the same class.
they're just a really sweet couple.

there. done. really proud of myself.
i am not a gossipmonger.
so all 4 of us (found shaun tham)
were walking around the esplanade
trying to get to the roof of it.
because we saw people on it earlier and we just thought it'd be
a really great place to see the fireworks from.
well, we sort of found a way.
but there was guard there
and he like told mi 'no' with his hands.
ok loh.
at that point, i got a call.

simeon: hey, where are you all?

mi: trying to find a way to the roof of the esplanade...

simeon: huh? does that mean you're not coming?

mi: well, if i we find a way to the roof, we'll stay there. if not, we'll come right over.

simeon: well, hurry up (in a simeony way). the fireworks start in 15 minutes.

15 minutes later...

not only were we not on the roof of the esplanade,
we weren't at the merlion either.
where we were was in between a man and his daughter,
a group of girls and a giant ang moh.
we had gone back down to the gound level of the espland and were like
squashing together with mounds of people.
suddenly, a photographer is like pushing his way through the crowd.

photographer: did you just kick me?

edward: well, you were pushing against me.

photographer: does that give you to right to kick me?

mi: hey? you'd better not push. there's a little girl down here.
(what i really wanted to say was like, 'hey, can we not quarrel?
we're all potential friends here...' but i thought edward would hit mi)

edward: did you here that? there's a little girl down there.

photographer: then just get out of my way.

i didn't hear the rest of it, but i did see the photographer push further into the
crowd looking pissed.
and then...


















later...

(for your information, the middle has just passed. yup. it has. noshit. it just did. honest.)

'where's ryan siah?'
i shrug my shoulders at yuet chiong, 'i dunno. he said he'd be here.'
'oh drop it you bastard, (or something to that effect) he called me and told me what you told him to do. you're a real asshole, you know...'
that was after simeon told us to meet them outside the fullerton
and after we walked there
and just right after we'd met them.
after more arguing, they want to eat dinner at plaza sing.
which i dun appreciate.
but, whatever.

so, we're eating dinner at swensens.
edward and christine had gone off somewhere else to have dinner.
well, i guess the meal was ok.
people spent most of dinner being angry at mi.
but i managed to work it up to them just being irritated.
then, i see jt's fone.
hey. he dun have a nokia, he was using a sony ericsson...
i pick it up, 'is this your fone?'
it falls from my fingers
toward my glass of water.
it's like watching an accident in slow motion.
in fact, it was watching an accident in slow motion.
and then...


















wow.
this is really wet.
we change to another table.
one by one, they start leaving.
i left too. took a cab home. din feel up to public transport.
but before that,
i was sitting outside the dhoby ghaut mrt talking to simeon.

mi: i'm sorry things had to turn out like that.

simeon: don't worry about it. it wasn't unexpected.

mi: you know, for a moment, just for a moment, when we were talking on the fone yesterday,
i had thought that i had gotten everything right...

this is that moment:
(at the moment of the moment, everything said was true)

simeon: have you called everyone yet?

mi: yup. i've called everyone. and they've all said yes. and that's a lot of people.

simeon: can you tell me who's going?

mi: oh, lots of people. so many i can't even remember.
you were right, i did do a good job. aren't you proud of mi?
your outing's gonna be a smashing success.
yup...
how could it not be...?

CHRISTIANS, CHINATOWN AND CHARLES CHIU

these three dun neccessarily go together.
but for one day, they did.
let mi tell you something about this particular day
,besides the alliteration,
(this is in complete disregard of punctuation:)
:
friday the fifth of august was the one day
that when it ended,
i felt completely exhausted.
utterly drained.
that sort of thing.
i got home at midnight so wasted.
my feet hurt (i shall explain later)
my head was swimming
i couldn't wait to fall into my bed.
and i didn't.
that was how the day ended.

but dun get mi worng,
that's not how the blog ends.
i just felt that i should get a bit of rest before i recount the day's occurences to yall.
so, [REWIND]
i got out of bed,
walked backward down the stairs, out of the house
and into the cab
which drove backwards
from the indoor stadium.
"?kotaB tikuB neht wehsaC neht daoR snevetS ot su gnirb ouy nac, elcnu"
we got out of the cab
and it drove away.
so,
[PLAY]
here we are,
stranded in the middle of nowhere.
by we i mean
ms fong, shaheen, rajeev, and i.
we originally included jt but he abandoned us because he knew how to get home bacause
he was one of those degenerates who lives in the east.
by middle of nowhere i mean
in the general vicinity of the indoor stadium in kallang.
all of us except ms fong have just come out of the festival of praise concert.
which,
in all honesty,
i did not enjoy.
by the time of the concert, i was already close to brain-dead
and i couldn't take standing on my feet anymore.
i was just so worn out
and just wasn't able to get caught up in the mood.
i usually do though.
so,
we were at a roadside trying to flag a cab.
or rather, ms fong was trying to get one for us.
then i remember:
'friend, this girl, she comes late, get locked out of the stadium, misses the concert and waits an hour and a half for you to come out just to go home. and now you want her to flag a cab for you. shithead.'

mi: ms fong, why dun u sit down and let mi get a cab? (i dun want to do this, i'm really tired, please say no and ask mi to sit back down on the railing and wait for you to get a cab)

ms fong: ok.

[REWIND]

it's about 3pm.
i've just left chinatown to go down town to meet Charles Chiu.
i'm kind of woozy.
but then i think:
'you dun get woozy'
and saunter into Borders.
i call Charles

mi: hey it's mi, where are you?

Charles: i'm in the business section with my father. do you know where that is?

mi: no. but i know what business is. does that help?

Charles: no.
nevermind. i see you.

mi: ooh. i see you too.

after a while, we leave Borders. and head towards the expo.
of course while all this is happening,
charles is experiencing a great deal of trepidation.
i can only imagine what is going through Charles' head
and i will:
'why am i doing this?
am i stupid or something?
it's so obvious sean ng has no clue about what he's doing or where he's going.
wow that girl has nice tits.
why am i following sean ng?'

cc: how far is it actually to expo?

mi: oh 8 or nine stops (actually 13)

cc: this chart says it'll take 27 minutes.

mi: oh dun worry, it wun seem like 27 minutes...

[FAST FORWARD: one train ride later]

mi: that didn't seem like 27 minutes did it?

cc: no.

mi: see, i AM good company. admit it.

cc: no.

we were at expo beacuse i wanted to go see the john little warehouse sale.
i can cut a long story short now and tell you:
it was fucked.
we didn't see a single thing worth buying.
what a bunch of shitheads.
charles and i felt that we needed something to show that
we didn't come all the way to expo
for nothing.
so we walked the whole expo looking for something to buy.
i can cut a long story short now and tell you:
it was fucked.
the whole east of the island is fucked
and ulu and weird.

we were sitting on the steps near the entrance to expo.
just talking.
about what i don't exactly remember.
but it was nice.

[REWIND]
have just finished lunch with my mum at clarke quay.
am now walking towards chinatown.
i've always wanted to go to chinatown.
i've never bin before.
come to think of it,
aside from celebrating chinese new year and speaking chinese,
i dun do anything else particularly chinese.
i must be missing out on something here.
i am going to
rediscover my chinese heritage.
yup.
so i walk from clarke quay to chinatown.
it's quite interesting.
i get into chinatown and resolve to explore every nook and cranny
of every building.
and i did do it.
but first,
i stopped at People's Park complex to get a grass jelly drink.
so,
what would i say to my past self?
"drink up. you dumb fuck, you'll be on your feet for the next 10 hours"

i finish the drink,
never knowing what a long day it's gonna be.

LITTLE INDIA

today, i decided to go to Little india.
but i couldn't very well go on my own.
i don't like not having people around.
its a chronic problem.
its like claustrophobia
except with people.

soooooooooo...
i choose...
edward.
(liauw)
since i've lost contact with edward oei.
its always good to give abit of background on the people that appear on this blog:

1) i've bin to edward's house.
2) edward's bin to my house.

a paragraph to sum up his existence:
"edward liauw goes to ngee ann polytechnic.
where he studies business.
why i dunno.
he sometimes gets angry at mi.
but sometimes is ok. since i've known him for coming on 7 years.
he is fascinated with cigarettes. especially malboro light.
he thinks i'm an idiot.
but cares enough about mi to repeat it everytime we meet.
he has delusions about being a good boy.
and was extremely surprised that he agreed to go with mi to Little India,
knowing my fondness for wild goose chases
and his hatred for them.
he is rather inclined to believe he did it because he is a particularly good and accomodating friend. but actually it was a combination of pity and a morbid interest for watching things go wrong.
he lives in a charming flat in bukit panjang which i completely adore.
especially so at 3 in the morning
when it possesses a serene yet surreal quality."

but the best way to know a person is not to read a paragraph about them,
but spend some time with them.
then you can decide for yourselves if i've been 100% wrong
or 100% right.
or both.
it's possible to be both 100% right and 100% wrong.
numbers go up to infinity right?
shouldn't percentages do the same?

BEFORE THE START
we begin and we will end with
buses.
i am sitting at the busstop outside sheng siong hypermarket.
the sun is very hot
and round. (thought you should get some background info about the sun as well)
so, the sun is shining.
and i am drinking bandung. something i wouldn't normally drink,
but i thought it would be good to try and blend in.
of course it didn't help.
a bus comes and edwards gets off, 'it's not my fault that i'm late, the bus was going too slow.'
sounds like something i would say. but i let it pass.

THE START
we are walking down Little India and it is
beautiful.
if you ask mi, and i am not giving you a choice,
the feeling i get when i'm in Little India is, 'this can't be singapore.'
its like the tangent of a tangent.
once you enter that road,
you will be smothered.
smothered.
and singapore seems like a foreign country to you. it honestly made mi feel like a tourist in the country of my birth. something that i didn't feel. even after i became one.
i look at edward,
anxious for him also to share my happiness and excitement on embarking on what seems to be a great adventure.
i see the look on his face.
haaa....
people are so hard to please...

IT'LL START TO GET GOOD
'it really will. trust mi.'
edward is not convinced.

IT STARTS TO GET GOOD
haha!
i was right.
the shops are steadily improving in quality.
now,
if i haven't told you yet,
we are in Little India to buy clothes.
i believe the words i used were:
'a bigger, cheaper Queensway'.
the designs are getting better...
the prices are going down...
edward's looking more satisfied with his decision to come with mi to Little India...

WELL, IT'S A START...
shit. shit shit shit, shit shit.
it stopped.
the designs from all the shops looked all the same
and i'm not saying that they were all not nice,
but, at least one shop's ones looked terrible.
i offer edward some of my milo.
he refuses, 'i'm sick, remember?'
i actually don't but, 'oh ya, you did tell mi.'

flashback:
(dreamy, blurry sequence)
edward: you better be right... i don't want to go home empty-handed.
mi: don't worry. i'm sure you'll buy lots of stuff
(blurry, dreamy sequence)
:kcabhsalf

COLOURS
blue
red
green
orange
yellow
purple
gold.
it's a rainbow.
an indian rainbow (:

YOU KNOW...
it was like taking a step back in time.
we must have gone to like a million shops.
each of them looking like they just stepped out from the 60s or something.
more like something than the 60s.
but they were all so charming.
more than charming.
i just can't describe it.
it's like walking in a postcard.
oh wait.
i just described it.

THE WAY BACK
we have just left mustafa.
frankly,
edward's probably a bit tired of mi being amazed at everything.
mustafa's the turning point.
we didn't find anything there either.
he didn't look like he wanted to go on.
well, it was an adventure.
if only i could bring you into my memory and
show you.
because that's the only thing that would do this experience justice.

we decide to stop at a shop to buy something to drink.
we bought $2 bandung.
the guy probably thought we were tourists.
but we weren't.
we should have told him that.

edward: he said he made it himself you know...
mi: ya. you can taste his hands in it.

960
remember when i said we would start with buses and end with buses?
you didn't take mi seriously, did you?
well, you should have.
we talked a bit on the bus home.
i remember him saying something
and mi saying something.
a lot of somethings.
but what i do remember is:

mi: everybody on this bus is a potential friend.
(edward rolls his eyes)
now don't you roll your eyes at mi.
(edward rolls his eyes again)
i'm sorry you didn't have fun...
but we should go out again sometime...
maybe to chinatown or something.
what do you mean no?
it's because you think i'm a nuiscance.
you're embarrassed of mi.

edward: no, no, no. more like totally ashamed.

but i didn't think he meant it.

i have recentli read a newspaper article
(and i do use the word recentli very loosely, bearing in mind the time machine)
about a 15 year old boy who drowned in a canal
whilst hordes of people just looked on from the safety of the bank.
they just watched while he died!
dun that make yall feel scared?!
these watchers could be your neighbours!
imagine that your house if being robbed
while you and your family are being held at knife-point.
what would they do?
ans: mind their own business!
and you ask: maybe these watchers din help because
the waters of the canal were very choppy and dangerous.
well, if they were, which the weren't, there was a life buoy there
just aching to be thrown to
the drowning boy.
and it wasn't!
enough of this:
i have a time machine,
i'll go back and change it.

!!WHOOSH!!

i'm at the canal.
i look around.
yup.
this is it.
people just staring.

i start towards the life buoy.
i can't move.
at all.
i try my hardest to wriggle out my immobility.
i just can't do it.
Why?
what to do now?
no choice.
i call out to the person standing closest to mi.
thirty-ish
and looking ever so typically singaporean.

mi: why aren't you helping?
watcherA: why aren't you?
mi: i... can't...

i can't help!
now it hits mi.
my reason for coming here was to save the boy from drowning.
so if he does not drown,
i would never have come here.
and since i am here,
he will die.
and by returning back in time
i have further sealed his fate.
as if expecting singaporeans to volunteer themselves without asking them would
not have cemented it enough.

my face froze in horror.
i could do nothing but stare helplessly at the drowning boy
and loathe myself for becoming
yet another
watcher.

THE WHITE TOMB

before we plod on any further,
more must be said of the time machine's abilities.
(i've taken to calling it the time machine
instead of my time machine
as it happens to be a collaboration of efforts
of some of the greatest minds.
including non-fictional and fictional,
past, present and future
and their counterparts in alternate universes.
to call it mine would be a travesty)
as the time machine itself is partially a work of fiction,
it not only can move within the 'real' universe and its infinite parallels
but it can also move through the imagined universes,
or rather,
throughout works of fiction.
whether they be books, movies or even tv programs.
but i have entered into a place which is even considered strange among the
invented universes:
the repository for deceased characters.
this is where i will meet my next interviewee:
Albus Dumbledore





















mi: it realli is an honour to meet you again, sir.

AB: oh drop that. would you like a drink?
actualli, i am sufficientli accomplised at Legilimens to tell that you would like a
butterbeer

two glasses appear out of nothing.
i catch the one floating towards mi and take an experimental gulp.

mi: funny... it tastes exactli like i thought it would.

AB: such is the power of fiction. when you read the book, and Ms. Rowling's description of butterbeer, this is how you thought it would taste.
and since butterbeer does not exist in your reality,
it can only taste like you thought it would.

mi: well, down to business then...
what do you think about your death?

AB: i feel badli about it.

mi: but why did you have to die? is it important to the story?

AB: i am not at liberty to discuss that.

mi: fine. what about Snape? did he realli betray you or did you beg him to kill you so they would not discover that Harry was in the room

AB: i'm very afraid, young man, that i realli am not able to tell you any of this.

mi: come on... just a little bit...

AB: you must understand
(drawing himself up to his full height)
i could not tell you even if i wanted to.
i am not Ms. Rowling's secret-keeper
and, as such, am bound by enchantments
and cannot reveal anything to you.

mi: the Fidelius charm exists?

AB: it exists for mi.
or rather, it existed for mi.

i saw his eyes dip ever so slightly behind his half-moon glasses.
then i saw them light up.

AB: but you have not been called here to have all your questions unceremoniously refused,
though it is amusing...

a mischievous, almost boyish twinkle
flashes from the corner of his eye.
i almost don't catch it.

mi: i was called here? how? i came of my own volition.

AB: no doubt you did. but i knew of love and admiration for me.
and i am deeply sorri
(he realli looked like he was)
that i took advantage of it.
i knew you were devastated at my death,
so,
i mustered all of my quite formidable powers and permeated your reality.
i implanted the idea in your mind of an interview with me when you were surfing the website
mugglenet.com

mi: but how... of course... there is a picture of you there.

AB: of course i could have gone through one of the books, but i sensed you at mugglenet and i knew i had to seize the chance.

mi: but why mi?

AB: why you? who said anything about me wanting you?
there isn't the slightest useful thing about you at all
(another twinkle)
it is the time machine i want.
of late, i have heard that that extraordinary machine,
which, let me remind you, that i also helped build had been completed,
i knew i needed it to facilitate my escape.

mi: escape from where?

AB: here of course-- the repository for deceased characters.

mi: but how?

AB: if i am able to break out of Azkaban, i should be able to break out of here.
besides, you are overlooking something.
of all my desirable qualities that you do not possess,
(another twinkle)
i have one very important something that renders me able to cross over back into my reality...

mi: what?

AB: ...magic

no twinkle this time, but he did roll his eyes

without saying another word, he strode to time machine.
with a flick of his wand,
the door opened.

by now,
a crowd had gathered.
all the deceased fictional characters shuffling, circling us,
trying to figure out what's happening.
among them i see Gollum, Oren-Ishii, Captain Hook, James and Lily Potter, Neo,
Mustafa, Theoden, Cedric Diggory and Citizen Kane.
funny...
i don't see Sirius Black here at all...

AB: step in, step in.

he motions to mi. the others look longingly
as he shuts the door, he waves his withered hand cheerily.

AB: bye Sauron!

as i enter, he motions for mi to take a seat.
he draws his wand and begins casting a spell.
the entire machine is now shaking and screaming around us.
he sits down.
indicating that the spell was done.

AB: you see, it requires a truly powerful spell along with the extraordinary abilities of the time machine to propel both you and me out of here. and after you've dropped me off, i think it should be quite simple for you to return to both your time and reality.
now, all we have to do, is sit and wait. i just hope i got it right. if not, we shall be cooked.

another twinkle

mi: but sir, no one, not even fictional characters can return from the dead.

AB: whoever said i was returning from the dead?

mi: then...

AB: you see, being in that repository is perhaps the worst thing that could happen to a fictional character.
you are dead in the story,
yet, not truly existing in the first place,
you cannot unexist.
so you stay in that repository,
utterly purposeless.

mi: then what do you intend to return to do?

suddenly, the time machine comes to a halt.
he ignored the question.
but looked visibly weaker and strained.

AB: i will need all my strength for this last spell.

and he gave what looked like
the final twinkle of his eye and
stepped out.

***

i step out.
OH MY GOD!!!
it can't be!
i'm here!
on page 645 of the half-blood prince:
Dumbledore's funeral.

i look around. no one has seen us arrive even though the machine made such a racket.
so, we must be invisible to them.
the last i see of Dumbledore is
him walking towards his own body.
for every step he takes,
he becomes increasingly transparent.
he spares a longing glance for Harry
then continues towards his body.
he reaches it,
turns around,
gives me a boyish smile and wave of his withered hand. and then,
he disappears.

the little man in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat. i saw Harry Potter (OMG! its harry potter!) wait for somebody else to get to their feet; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.

then several people screamed. bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: Higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiraled into the air and made strange shapes.
Harry looked up.
i did so too.
and for one heart stopping moment, i thought i saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue.
but the next second, the fire had vanished. in its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested.

mi: oh my, Dumbledore, what have you done?

suddenly, i heard a voice from nowhere.

AB: hmm?

mi: huh? you disappeared!

AB: i guess i did. anyway, to answer your first question: well, i did say that i will only be gone from the school when there are none loyal to me there. and didn't very well want to be a liar.

i imagine he winked.

but i heard nothing more from him.
so this was his final bit of magic.
i still have completely no idea what he did or how he did it
but
what's important is
that he's home.

eMOTYARP

so we start off in the middle of an interview 50 years in the future,
in Singapore.

LKY: the truth is relative.

mi: huh?

LKY: the truth has varying degrees of trueness.

mi: huh?

I took about 10 minutes to recover from the shock of his statement,
and not wanting to seem stupid by pausing so long,
I traveled back to the very start of my conversation with the now 132 year old Lee Kuan Yew, mentor to the current Minister mentor and great-grandfather of the current prime minister, Lee Kuan Yew II.

mi: good morning Mr. Lee.

LKY: well, it’s not an exceptionally good morning. But considering I lived through about 48000 of them, it’s considerably more difficult to convince me that anything is exceptional. except, of course, me.

He gave me a little smile with a twinkle in his eye.
but it was no friendly, joking twinkle.
it was one of condescension.

but he looked so remarkably much like he had in 2005.
so I just had to ask.

mi: wow! Mr. Lee, you look really good. is it really you?

LKY: what?! you mean you know about the clones?!

mi: huh?

LKY: oh. it’s ok then.

mi: well, let’s get down to business then.
I’ve just come from 2005, a bit after the conclusion of the NKF trial. would you say there is more transparency and truth in the government and charities now?

LKY: you will have to define what truth is. the truth is relative you know…

mi: huh? now you will have to elaborate, sir.

LKY: what I mean to say is the amount of trueness in truth can vary.

mi: surely the truth cannot be so ambiguous. if it was, it wouldn’t be called the truth. right? surely every situation has an absolute truth.

LKY: of course there is an absolute truth for every situation. but, of course, it can change.

Huh?
for clarity, let us continue this interview 50 years before it began.
to the present day it is!

mi: hello audience, today, we are with Lee Kuan Yew, prime minister of Singapore from 1959 to 1990. he is now the Minister Mentor.
Good morning Mr. Lee.

LKY: well, it’s not an exceptionally good morning. But considering I lived through about 30000 of them, it’s considerably more difficult to convince me that anything is exceptional. except, of course, me.
but anyway, proceed with your first question.

mi: when will you ever die?

LKY: never.

mi: you have no idea how true that seems. but, do you really think that’s good for Singapore?

LKY: yes. Singapore deserves a fantastic leader like me.

mi: isn’t that just a bit too egoistic?

LKY: no. I think being in my presence should leave you feeling that I am much more than a bit too egoistic.

mi: that’s very candid of you…

LKY: it’s only because I’ll have the guards shoot you later.

mi: erm… what if I said you are the greatest person in Singapore?

LKY: only Singapore?

mi: the whole world?

LKY: and the universe…

mi: haiz… why not throughout all time as well?

LKY: yes. yes…

mi: obviously, you are impervious to sarcasm (as well as death). moving on. so,
tell mi, what does the truth mean to you?

LKY: the truth is whatever I want people to believe in.

I’m starting to get nervous here…

mi: and what would that be?

LKY: me.

SEAN NG!!! STOP!!! CHANGE THE GODDAMN TOPIC!!!

mi: erm… anyway, what do you see in Singapore’s future?

LKY: lots of prosperity. Singapore will become the greatest country in the world. I will grant this all to them if they would just emotyarp.

mi: Amen.

THE TIME MACHINE

If you can remember, I have a time machine.
that can go anywhere
in time and space.
Because,
as I have already explained, going back in time is not enough
as the world we are in,
the solar system around it
and the galaxy around that
are continuously moving at phenomenal speeds.
So that if we were only to move backwards or forwards or sidewards
in time,
we would probably end up floating in
cold, unforgiving space.

but I’m not some hero.
I don’t intend to like stop World War 2 or anything.
the entire purpose of the time machine is so that I can travel through
the past, present, future and all the other possibilities
to have
a damn swanky holiday.
cool innit?

so,
I invite you
to accompany me across, along, through, over, under, within and without
the tapestry of infinite time streams.