Cheers, Mate

I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... B!

~


Beer. Also known as:
- belly girth enhancer
- burping agent
- better days ahead

This is an early celebration for the latter. (Crosses fingers in hope that it's not premature. Otherwise, darn, those calories coulda been saved for later.)

Also presenting my new Nikon D40x baby. I <3 superzoom lenses.

reCAPTCHA & Other Reads

You know how leaving comments on people's blogs sometimes involves having to figure out some squiggly alphabets that are hard to read? Well, I just learned that some of these are linked to reCAPTCHA, a programme that digitises old scanned texts by having humans solve these 'puzzles' around the world, all the time. It's pretty interesting and if you go to the site, you can actually help digitise scanned words. (After 20 'successes', I also realised it's easy to get addicted to reCAPTCHAing.) Anyway, never once did it cross my mind that all those annoying validation processes potentially have a noble cause.

Two other pretty good reads:
The Worst Jobs in Science 2007 (from Popular Science) - think 'Whale-Feces Researcher' or 'Elephant Vasectomist'
The Formula (from New Yorker) - what if we built a machine to predict hit movies?

Music Binge

Over the past few days, I have found myself addicted to downloading mp3s ever since I rediscovered mp3 blogs and mp3 blog aggregators like The Hype Machine. When I say addicted, I mean seriously addicted, to the point that I figure out strategies for my downloading activities, as not all of these activities take place at err... private property, and because one particular machine at this non-private place has err... Alzheimer's, and err, perhaps I am supposed to be doing other things...

Anyway, mp3 blog aggregators really do help you scour the high seas for free mp3s while discovering new music you like (they compile the latest mp3 blog postings and make the content searchable). I download music torrents a lot, but there are major limitations like i) you first need to know what you want to download; ii) most torrents are for latest releases--the old albums are usually taken off; iii) if you're into niche music, it'd be easier to find me at a Paris Hilton concert than you getting your feed here.

While hunting down great music on your own can be very rewarding, it also takes time. A lot of time. I've sat through hours of patient downloading, all the while reading other people's glowing reviews of said band, only to click 'play' and discover the music sucks--to me at least. (On a side note, with the gluttony of music in the world today, you do need to start sharpening your own earbuds to what you like so that you don't drown in all the sounds. Different people like different music, so it's useless trying to find reasons to agree with all the hype if you really don't.)

Anyway, three bands / artistes that stand out from my current binging, in no particular order, are:

1. The National (listen to them on Spinner here)
2. Thomas Dybdahl (whose collaborations led me to discover another amazing voice, Christel Alsos)
   
3. Peter and the Wolf (among other things, this dude plays in cemeteries at night and travels to gigs by boat)
   

It's all great music. You really should check them out. By the power vetoed me by My Honourable Self, go!!!


mp3 blog aggregators, the national, thomas dybdahl, christel alsos, peter & the wolf

Filed under CLASSIFIEDS: FRIENDSHIP

IRRESISTIBLY HOT Angora male, two and a half years old, seeks companionship of funny, friendly rabbits or humans of any gender. If you like playing catch, stroking soft surfaces, having a warm rug of high-quality fur under your feet, or entertaining the whims and fancies of a lonely, sexually charged virgin bored, neglected bunny, please reply to this post with the validation code: 'HOT BUNS'. Confidentiality is assured.

Special note from rabbit: I ran up the stairs FOUR times tonight cos not one of 'em two-leggeds were around, and I was feeling bored as usual. Each time I reached the top and stood at the bedroom doorway, my 'owner' would shout 'Lump!' in a grr-ing kinda tone it hurts my ears even to think of it and she'd try to trick me into going back down again. I stood my spot but NO! she had to take some blue thing and aim it at me, then like magic, it rained! Indoors! I HATE it when it rains indoors! Especially on my face or just me, cos no one else seems to get wet. Sometimes I think that that younger two-legged is a god or miracle worker, the way she makes yummy food appear out of nowhere, but for all those other times (which would fill 90% of the clock), I think she sucks.

P/S: That pic of me was taken when I was much younger. You can't see cos of the crappy phone cam quality, but I actually look rather like Brad Pitt.

Aged Dawgs

Reading the news can make you laugh. Really:

TOKYO - Japan will get its first nursing home for dogs with round-the-clock monitoring by doctors and a team of puppies to help aging pooches feel younger, a pet products company said Wednesday.

Owners pay 98,000 yen (US$800) a month to keep their dogs at the Soladi Care Home for pets, which opens Friday, according to a joint release by Soladi Co. and the Endo Veterinary clinic in Tochigi, eastern Japan.

Veterinarians at the home will offer round-the-clock monitoring, and residents will be fed specially fortified food, the release said.

The home, which can accept 20 dogs at one time, will also employ puppies to play with the aging dogs to help them keep fit and feel younger, the release said.

With $800 US DOLLARS, EACH MONTH, multiplied by 20 'residents', I think I could run a mini zoo. Heck, I think I could upkeep the whole of Zoo Negara (just the animals, not the workers).

The disproportionate distribution of wealth, and the careless way it is often spent, depresses me. I know poorer people would similarly balk at basic wage earners like me dishing out RM4-5K on a camera, which is what I plan to do soon (crosses fingers). The parting of the hard-earned cash will be painful and I'll probably unwillingly subject myself to bouts of post-purchase dissonance. All these money issues. If only things here were more reasonably priced, relative to the standard of living. (For e.g., the camera system I want would only be USD$1K if I lived in the States, or a few hundred if I lived in Europe. I'd still have money left over from a month's salary, rather than slogging for a few months just to get a cam.)

Does the current system not encourage people with lowly incomes to steal? :(

Stuff you don't want to hear at night

After waiting weeks for my Spidey 2 download to finish, I sit down in a semi-comfortable chair, turn off the lights and double-click the file only to find that...

IT'S IN FRENCH!!!!!

:(

~

There are two big yellow tractors and two big dust-coloured trucks filled with dirt outside the gate. For the past few nights, they have been digging a big long hole in the road about one foot deep, covering it back again so that I can drive out to work in the mornings, then returning late at night to dig another big long hole at exactly the same spot. Despite staring at the mess below, I fail to understand why. There are no pipes, no wires, no anything to make sense of the confounded hullabaloo that is happening at 3am. I pity my parents as their room faces the din. To add to the annoyance, tonight, the workers have decided to dig to Indian music on the radio.

BANG! Another crazily loud bang that sounded like a collision between a bike and a car. In reality, it's just more of the careless shoveling. I bet they feel honoured they have the power to keep people from having a decent night's rest.

A glance out the window again, and finally, I see the pipes. They look like gigantic red caterpillars with a never-ending wobbly midsection. They'd better not be of some dodgy material, supplied by some corrupt government contact's brother-in-law and designed to disintegrate in two weeks.

Gah. Loud noises can drive you mad.

~

When I horridly broke my Kyser the other day, I recalled that I'd lent a friend my old Dunlop trigger capo. So I texted her and asked if she could return it. She came along on Wednesday night, and presented to me a SHINY NEW SHUBB CAPO. And 2 boxes of Ferrero Rocher! She apologised and said she had lost the capo at a friend's wedding; would this new one do? Would it?! Of course it would! I still want the black Kyser (in memory of my old one) but this is great. Thanks, Debbie!! :D

Champs, we're back in business.

Book Bug

For reasons unclear, the Boss decided to give the Workers workers an off day on Friday (and Saturday), so I started on J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye, a classic published in 1951 that has courted a fair amount of controversy for "offensive language, premarital sex, alcohol abuse, and prostitution". Of course, I wasn't aware of such labels at the time, and post-enlightenment, I don't agree to calling it all that, because... well, times have changed. (Seriously, read it and see my point.)

What I found interesting though, is a bit of related trivia: (i) Mark David Chapman, the assassin of John Lennon, was carrying the book when he was arrested immediately after the murder, and referred to it in his police statement; (ii) John Hinckley, Jr., who attempted to assassinate President Ronald Reagan in 1981, was also reported to have been obsessed with the book.

Ooh, watch out people. I may just turn homicidal.

A day or two before starting on that, I'd just disposed of Yann Martel's Life of Pi, a novel that has won the Man Booker prize. Wassat? Oh, just another literary award. The first problem with book awards is that they almost certainly make me want to buy the damn book. (Note to self: There may be minors reading this. Move along pipsqueaks, you don't belong here!) The second problem is that if a book has won an award, it usually raises my expectations of it, which is fair, surely—otherwise why give it an award? However, this robs a person like me from enjoying a book for what it really is, which seemed to be the case with Life of Pi. Unless:

(i) all the brilliant bits that bowled the judges over were butchered out from my copy;
(ii) I am a daft reader (possible);
(iii) I've read millions of better books in my life (impossible—I don't even know if I've read a thousand books, period);
(iv) all the other books vying for the award that year were crap.

Despite my apparent grouses though, Life of Pi ain't bad. It's a light read and the zoology aspect is pretty interesting (Pi Patel, an Indian zookeeper's son, gets stuck aboard a lifeboat for 221 days with Richard Parker, a Bengal tiger). And... I just realised: the protagonist is sixteen years old, which is the SAME AGE as the protagonist in Catcher during the period the novel talks about. What a meaningless coincidence!

This concludes the reading of three novels in just over a month. I feel so productive. (The Time Traveler's Wife wins my vote.)

In the ruins

Nine years I have loved you.
Nine years you have loved me.
Nine years on, you lie in the ruins.

Today, for clamping you the 'right' way for a song I wrote (which is upside down of how I usually clamp you), you paid a hefty price. You died in service. Faithfully, just like always.

This picture is in memory of how a spanking new you looked like outta the package, and the spot where you received your death blow. Now I will wait to get one of your black brothers, but remember, I will miss you.

Kyser, you're da best!

xxx.

(P/S: I am sad. Kyser is the best!)

(P/P/S: This is a capo, not an idiosyncratic instrument of torture.)

2 B R 0 2 B by Kurt Vonnegut

My research into corporations and blogging for an upcoming article led to a wild romp round the Web for the past--OMG--six hours. In that time, I have discovered several interesting blogs, checked out this blog's stats on Technorati (where it's miserably ranked at 2,130,500 with an authority rating of 2), understood 1% more about Web 2.0, and discovered Project Gutenberg. (Oh, and of course, gathered some intelligence for the article.) Despite the vast amounts of time I spend reading stuff online, do not be deceived: I am not a fan of reading stuff online. But since the latter site offers e-books for free, hey, here's the top download at Project Gutenberg, 2 B R 0 2 B by Kurt Vonnegut. It's not a bad read at all (unless you abhor Times New Roman or Courier) and is a more wholesome option than looking at porn.

To Pastor Tim (whom I'd call Timmeh, but for fear of incurring that swallowed-annoyance look)

"Hello, Pastor."

Kampung Jus, Melaka, July '05 (Whee!!! Check out my eyebrows!!)

You don't need to worry if you left an impact. You did. Thank you for praying with me through dead-ends and my darkest days. Your quiet joy in God, your love for Him and the way you worship are inspiring. You don't take God as a sugar daddy as many are wont to do. You took Him as Lord, ready to follow His leading. Your faithfulness and service are some things we will visibly miss.

Thank you, Pastor Tim, for sharing your life with us these five years.


Today // Tomorrow. Time turns the page, and behold! A new adventure beckons.

Lina Joy

Triumphant shouts of "Allahu Akhbar"—meaning, God is great—greeted the landmark ruling passed today in Malaysia's highest court. Since 7.30am, 300-odd Muslim supporters from 80 different Islamic bodies had begun joining the concerned and the curious outside the courthouse. Whatever the court's decision (and there were only two possible outcomes), they must have rehearsed their reactions the night before in their heads. Which is why a few hours later, in a 2-1 majority decision (two Muslim judges; one non-Muslim), the Federal Court announced their rejection of Lina Joy's appeal to drop the word 'Islam' from her IC, and spontaneously, unanimously, the circumcised crowd roared.

This Big Issue sets a precedent for future religious-based rulings. It will confirm, to an extent, a nagging suspicion that has bugged our national conscience: How much of an Islamic country is Malaysia? Can citizens still believe in the freedom of religion granted under Article 11 of the Federal Constitution, or is the Syariah Court sneaking up to devour any delusions Malaysians, particularly the minority, have concerning our religious freedom? Pertinent questions to a country that is rumoured to face the voting booths later this year.

My initial thoughts on this case are rather convoluted (which pretty much reflects the state of my mind most of the time). I don't know nuts about the law, and I don't hardly read the papers.

Even if I were to spew my thoughts, and in the process spring-clean my brain, they'd probably just echo popular sentiment. Some examples include:

• There's no hope for Malaysia. We're doomed. The system favours Islam, Muslims and on a lighter note, mamaks (who are Muslim).
• This case really demonstrates how the Federal Court is allowing itself, via the powers that be inside it, to be shackled by the Syariah Court. The recent string on conversion cases show how they conveniently pass the bucket—and their responsibility to uphold justice—to the Syariah courts who greedily lap up their growing power. (Yes I am being judgmental here.)
• Perhaps Malaysians surely couldn't have expected any or both of the Muslim judges presiding the case to say yes to Joy. With Lina's Muslim lawyer getting death threats in the past, such a liberal judge would have had his Merc bombed the moment he stepped into it; his family destroyed.
• It seems like Barisan now wants to attract more Muslim voters compared to non-Muslims.
• If the Church in Malaysia had come together and fervently prayed for the issue, would the decision have been any different?

(Cue commercial break)

As it is very late and I'm tired (tonight and yesterday, I left work at 12.40am and 10.45pm respectively), and also because I had an Angkor (not Anchor) beer courtesy of Rachel and her recent adventures in Cambodia, I will rush on and merely state that with each passing year, I'm becoming more pessimistic about the country I was born in and now reside, and her future. With alternative news sources booming, the rose-tinted image of Malaysia I held as a kid has shrivelled up and died. I read of corruption, nepotism, greed, injustice. Politics is a shit-smeared undergarment that is never washed.

With troubles all around, let's go back to the Lina Joy case. The demerits of the court's decision are obvious to the minority and especially to Lina Joy herself. Ultimately however, what matters is that Joy has the freedom to choose her God in her heart. At the very least, that's something no one can take away.

Planets, to Scale

Remember that chart in school, with the nine planets in our solar system drawn on it like one happy family? Well, that's a big bullish lie.

On Friday, I read the second chapter of Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything while lunching at the Departure Lounge. It was a drone of words compared to the first, but an illustration of how big the universe we live in stood out, which went something like:

"If Earth were the size of a pea, and you tried to draw the surrounding planets to a rough scale, Jupiter would be 300m away, and Pluto (though it's not a planet anymore) would be 2.5km away, the size of a bacterium."

Now that seems pretty far out to me. Also, I learned that our solar system is only a trillionth of the entire universe. What is out there?

To Anybody, and Nobody

I think, wistfully,
of you
then of all the missed chances
stillborn
in my sleep.

Teabags & Tears

I am sitting with a damp, used teabag lodged between the plastic lens of my spectacles and a shut left eye. The words 'Cane's Green Tea' dangle freely from the upturned bag, rustling in the fan breeze against my static hair. I look like a pirate, a joke, or both. I have just finished reading Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife, reciprocating its pleasure with my tears. Tomorrow is a work day and this is my feeble attempt to escape social scrutiny.

Staring into the screen, I see stars

I want to elope
with your wayward
words
your yellowed skin
fingered
frantic
found


feverish
in intent
of emancipating me
from cubicle hell

A Public Appearance on a Public Holiday

Meet Zara. She's a malnourished vegan who doesn't want to eat animals because "I love animals". While I don't doubt her sincerity (two years of being a vegan might have saved err... 3 cows, 2 goats and a few hundred chickens?), I do have reservations that any such love is mutual. For instance, if I dumped her in the rugged (often misconstrued as wildly romantic) African landscape with nothing more than a professed agape love for animals, my meat-fed guts tell me that a starving lion would probably prove my suspicions right.

But I digress.

Meet Zara.

Zara is also my new partner in rhyme (sorry, these lines don't come supplied with a puke bin). And rhythm. And music. In other words, we are going to be rockstars together. Or poor buskers who might, in the hazy future, be able to describe in detail what a Bukit Aman cell looks like. Hey, we've all got to start somewhere.

SOMEWHERE
And so our particular venture into the very public sphere of busking (i.e. begging for money aided by a musical instrument) began last Wednesday, a public holiday. I had only busked once on the infinitely safer streets of Canberra; Zara, zip. After two practices, we had about 11 songs we could cover quasi-decently—enough for one set. We decided to try our luck at the recently revamped Central Market, a stone's throw away from the historic birthplace of KL. Such non-exclusive places tend to congregate the craziest kinds, so for safety reasons, I engaged the services of Reb C, who is a few dozen sizes smaller than me and a few elephants lighter, to protect us from the baddies and also to take pictures.

It must have worked, for we were not robbed. As we sang, smiled, screwed up and said thank you whenever someone was kind enough to actually pop money in, we were never once booed, impaled by another busker's guitar, or bounded off to jail in a flashing police car. While all that would have made a more thrilling blog post than this, I shall be content with the memory of my first-ever busking experience in Malaysia. For those who'd like to see us strut more embarrassment on the streets, my meat-fed guts tell me there will be more to come.

Blowing. Breathing. Brewing.

Over the past week, my scent has changed. I smell of stale cigarettes and communal sweat. I smell like a million bucks stuck in a sewage line. I smell of desperation.

Ambition.
(confusion)

Resolve.
(regression)

A seismic shift in the seasons.
( ... )



I smell very different these days.

And to put life into perspective again...

An Inconvenient Truth

I am two miles from the sun. Two miles from combusting. Two bloody miles from being consumed. My anger hides, but I know its colour.

White.

Not righteous or holy.

White.

The same perverted white in your spit-laced words. The same white your eyes lie with, the same white your lips conceal as they open and close, start and end, lie after lie. I have heard many white lies, sealed and delivered in a promise and a smile. I promise to wisen up.

Two miles from the sun, blood boils and I am livid.

Babies: A lazy Sunday post

My niece is learning to walk and talk. I'll teach her some really cool stuff soon, like how to say, "My name is Apu Nahasapeemapetilon and I work at the Kwik-E-mart" real quick and with an Indian accent, or "My Ah Yee is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious".

... ... ...

(Okay the real reason why I'm posting is cos I like these pics. And I am waiting for Gmail to upload some files. That's all. Lazy brainless post, yes.)

Jo on Angie's carpet

Erin on Angie's sofa