Category: My Good Life

Woke up late recovered from the new year party that Cynthia and I only managed to get home this morning. The write-up on the Insomnia experience was somewhat short (I promise you three interesting stories if you read on) as after getting rid of the cigarette smell off my body from head to toe, all I wanted was my bed.

Anticipated the big crowd at LKF, we have arrived relatively early. Although this was the second time I tried to make my way to LKF, it was impossible for us to get lost. There were big signs saying: This Way to LKF. Along the way, roads were blocked and policemen and police vehicles were stationed. For those who are new to LFK, there were casualties couple of years ago when a big crowd collapsed on a slopped road during the countdown.

Entered into Insomnia and ordered our drink. There is no entrance fee but the waitresses do not hesitate to make you feel bad and say: if you stand here, you must order a drink! We found our little relatively peaceful standing area away from the cigarette puffers and away from the flow of traffic (people making their ways into the toilets and out). We ended up standing right in front of the stage, which was nice. As we were dancing to the Hip Hop music, I have overheard the following conversations.

A girl’s voice said, “What type of girl do you like?”

That question suddenly pulled me away from my trance state of Hip Hop and I smelt a new story. I turned around and saw this pretty young girl, short hair, trendy, nice feature, and with her was her friend looking way ordinary compared to her. Long hair was all I could remember. The man was fat and he looked Mediterranean. He was soft spoken and I could not make out what he reply was but the pretty one continued, “This is my friend.” But I gathered that the fat one preferred the pretty one to the ordinary one.

The pretty one continued, “Today I am on holiday. I will be at work next week. Call me and we shall meet.”

I could only guess what sort of profession the pretty one was having. Okay, that is story number one.

I swear there were more ladies – beautifully dressed up – than men in Insomnia. On the front row of the stage are the fans and friends and family members of the live bands. I knew it by seeing how the band members greeted them like good old friends. One of the waitresses asked the middle aged lady in front of me to order a drink and when she refused, the waitresses was about to give her a hard time. That was when the middle aged lady pointed to the keyboardist on stage and said something that I could only imagine as: he is my son. Immediately the waitress’s attitude changed and even brought the middle aged lady a glass of warm water. On the far right was a young girl – tall, long hair, unblemished skin, wearing yellow – who throughout the show ogling over the bold, handsome, and tall Southeast Asian bassist. The chemistry between them was overwhelming.

During the break, the bassist was at the back stage and the young girl was signaling to him openly that she wanted his phone number and would call and meet him. The word “signaling” was an understatement. She was aggressively gesturing him that she was all his had him taken up the challenge. Yes, she challenged him. Perhaps it is because of the club policy that he did not take up the “challenge”. Or perhaps, the bassist is dating one of the hot female vocalists? Who knows? Girls these days really go all out to get the ones they want.

That is story number two. We wanted to leave Insomnia at twelve-ish – after the countdown and after the live band’s second session. When we stepped out of Insomnia, we were faced with a huge crowd and decided to go back in and hide for a while. In retrospect, we were faced with an even larger crowd when we left Insomnia at two-ish. There were bouncers controlling the crowd entering the club.

For the third session, there was a new band and there were two vocalists – male and female (I suspect all the in-house bands have such a mix). Both were tall and not particularly good looking (I have this theory that if you don’t look good in an in-house band, you must sing well). When the female vocalist took the stage and sang “My Happy Ending” by Avril Lavigne, her friends at the front row all screamed and pointed at the male vocalist who was standing besides her oblivious to all these gestures. Even the female vocalist made a light gesture (a sad face nodding to her friends) to acknowledge the fact. That song was sung with so much emotion that I felt moved. The lyrics of the song can be found in here. “My Happy Ending” is not a happy love song. It is rather sad about unfulfilled love.

Insomnia is where my wife and I did our countdown to year 2006. The club is located at Lan Kwai Fong – one of the popular locations for people to spend their New Year Eve evening. The party was smashing, the in-house bands were great, and the girls were hot.

It is great to start a new year with such a great party. I am sure this year will be great.

Happy new year you all!

I have to be careful in writing this chapter after recent news of Singaporean bloggers jailed for blogging materials that are racisim in nature. I doubt if any Singaporeans will be stupid enough to openly admit anything that may get them in jail.

There I was in the mall 298 looking for blank CDs, I observed couple of shops selling pirated software. The setup is as such. As you walk into the shop, you will be greeted by rows of empty plastic packages displaying software titles. You will be encouraged to seek assistence from the shop assistances – teenages – because the shop space is small and you will be kicked out of the shop if you spend too much time blocking other potential customers.

The shop assistances seems to be very well versed on the software and upon making your selection, he or she will write the software code onto a piece of small blue square paper and ask you to pay outside the shop.

So, carrying the small blue piece of shopping list, you will meet with a middle aged man who speak Mandarin. You pass him the money and he will make a phone call, make some writing onto your piece of paper, and ask you to come back in half an hour’s time.

From time to time, you will see a delivery boy carrying a bag full of pirated software all packed nicely with tag numbers. I did a fast count and I reckon they earn HKD5,000 to 10,000 (S$1,000 to S$2,000) for each 15 to 30 minutes.

Now, if they don’t have the software you are asking for, you will be given a piece of white paper with the shop assistance’s phone number and he will ask you to come back tomorrow. Of course you could demand your money back but these are gangsters.

And as the business continues, the middle aged man who collects cash, places orders, and distribute packages will periodically pass the cash back to one of the shop assistances. Just imagine how much cash he would hold had he not off-load the money.

Four hours to year 2006!

Finished “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” by Mark Haddon. From the readers’ review at Amazon.com, the book is accurately written from the mind of an autistic child. My next novel to read is probably Slow Man by the nobel-winner J. M. Coetzee – another book bought by my wife besides the doggie book.

Back to the topic of this chapter. I had four dreams last night (could have been more but I could not remember) and two of which I was so glad that they were just a dream.

In my first dream, it was back in my university days when I lived inside the university together with my band members in different rooms. One night when I got back from study, I found that my room was broken into and I have lost all my guitars! I was so sad and I seeked out my band members for solace. Then I woke up and thanked God that it was just a dream.

In my second dream, again at night, I was taking a tram with one of my lady colleagues and one of my lady clients. It was initially crowded and in the end, just the three of us with the lady tram driver. The street was dark and deserted and the driver parked the tram in the middle of nowhere. We got out of the tram and then I woke up. I wanted more!

Daytime, or lunch time to be precise. I took my guitar and effect and mixer and the cables to a music store to fix my unwanted noise problem (real life problem indeed and I am eager to fix that when I return to Singapore). Somehow they took too long and I was very late to get back to work. I was so worried that my big boss was going to give me a hard time and thanked God, it was a dream.

Last dream that I can remember of, I have arrived at a college ball with my wife and my sister in the evening. Aparently I was not properly dressed. I searched through the suitcase for something proper and could not find one. So I asked if I could visit the store room (during the school holiday back in the university days, most students would put their belongings into the store room and headed somewhere to stay for the 8 weeks holiday) and the official said no. In the end I found something to wear inside the suitcase and I woke up.

I wonder if all these four dreams mean something. Anyway, year 2005 is ending in 6 hours’ time.

Finished “One Hundred Strokes of the Brush Before Bed” by Melissa P. Hard to believe any girl would subject her body to such humiliation. Then again, diaries of this sort are often shocking – like “Prozac Nation” on depression. Moved onto “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” by Mark Haddon written in the form of a diary in the mind of an autistic child investing a dog found dead in a neighbour’s garden only to discover secrets after secrets of the neighbourhood. The author succeeded in bringing out the sound mathematical mind of a small boy despite the disabilities. I was down to a few pages left as of last night and am definitely looking forward to how to ending turned out.

Remember the accident I was talking about (see chapter 9)? On the same stretch of the road, I saw something very rare tonight. Two businessmen flagged down a taxi for his friend (late fourties I reckon) and his escort coming out from a nightclub. She looked elegant. The last time I have seen a nightclub escort was years ago when there was a nightclub on the ground floor of my apartment (now replaced by a music store). I had a glimpse of an escort dashing from the taxi and into the nightclub. It is rare to me because even though there are a few nightclubs within 5 minutes of walking radius of my home, I don’t get to see the girls who work inside.

Quite honestly I did not expect to type the paragraph above. Once you start to write down the highlights of your daily life, you may find that life is indeed pretty interesting.

Coincidentally, of the three books I have brought along from Singapore, two of which are actual diaries of the authors. Today, I have finished the three volumes in one “A Prison Diary” by Jeffery Archer and started “One Hundred Strokes of the Brush Before Bed” by Melissa P. It is quite a transition because all of a sudden, I have switched from an established author in his sixties writing about his experience in prision, his view of the system, and the drug problem that UK faced – to a new author in her teens writing about her love and sex experience. Both have good reviews and interestingly, the diary entries of the two books overlap. Think of it this way, while someone was writing about his prison life in England, someone else was writing about her love and sex life in Italy. One is full of humour, compassion, and maturity while another one is full of passion about life. Perhaps diary has become popular these days. And perhaps if I start writing a book titled “A Songwriter’s Diary”, it may even sell.

My another favourite diary style of book is “Prozac Nation: Young and Depressed in America: A Memoir” by Elizabeth Wurtzel.

During my Dim Sum with my family – my third time having Dim Sum in this short stay in Hong Kong (and on the same day, my dad had one in the morning) – I was catching up with my mother with people whom I know in Hong Kong. Two love stories worth mentioning.

One of my mother’s childhood friend has a son who is younger than me by close to ten years. He is one of the most disciplined kids I have seen. Hard to believe that he is now working as well as dating. How many of you have come across someone who is aspired to be a fireman? This kid is one. He would stay at the fire scene for hours just to see how the firemen do their jobs. Last year, unfortunate enough, he has injured his wrist before the fireman test and he was disqualified by one point. This year, he has developed a bit of short sightedness and failed again. Poor chap.

He loves working outdoor hence even though he is an university graduate, he worked as a life guard (at the beach I suppose and again, how many of you have know a friend who …). Now that he is in love with a girl and been dating for two years, he has given up his life guard job and took up accounting – something he was trained for. In order to advance his career, he takes up a night class for his master degree. I bet he would be a lot happier to pursue his dreams but then again, reality sinks in (doesn’t it all the time?). Ironically, his parents are the one who give him the freedom to choose his career. Love has a twisted way to change one’s life.

The second story left me in shock. This story itself could have been expanded to be a full story (perhaps I shall send this blog to one of the publishers). My mother’s another childhood friend just came back from Canada. She was married to a local businessman with one son and one daughter. We had Dim Sum once and from the conversation, I was puzzled about her marital status so I asked my mother during Dim Sum, “What happened to her hushand?”

“They are separated,” my mother answered.

“Really, how come? When did it happen?” I put on my writing hat and inquired.

Aparently, her ex-husband was in love with one of his employees (his first love) long before he has met my mother’s best friend. After one big fight between him and his first love, they broke up and he dated my mother’s best friend. After she was pregnant, they have decided that it was time to get married. However, since her ex-husband and his first love worked in the same company (owned by him), very soon they got back together. From then on and throughout their marriage, his first love was very much part of her life.

I was shocked and said, “This can’t be true. Didn’t she know about all these affairs?”

My mother continued the story and told me that even her children accepted their father’s mistress. I was dumbfounded and asked, “How?” The answer was as shocking.

“Simple,” my mother answered, “The mistress spends a lot of money buying gifts or simply handing cash to my best friend and her children. Mind you, her money come from my best friend’s ex-husband. Ironically, her children may like the mistress more than their mother.”

“This doesn’t make sense, shouldn’t your best friend be rich as well?”

“Ah, she has two weaknesses.”

“And that is?”

“Greed and being stingy. My best friend hardly spends money on herself nor her children and she was greedy to accept the gifts from her ex-husband’s mistress,” my mother answered.

I was speechless and secretly marveled at the mistress’s secret of success. My next question was how did she get divorced then. The answer goes back to that one fine day when her ex-husband has decided to purchase a bigger apartment to house both his family and his mistress under one roof and my mother’s best friend could not take it. In the end, she was offered a few properties and a generous monthly allowance. He is now a free man to wed his first love instead.

What a love story.

Everyday I wonder if I have enough materials throughout the day to write and as my day goes by, the title of the chapter changes. Take today as an example, the title has gone from nothing to “Dog” to “Football” and finally to “Accident” after witnessing one just about an hour ago.

By the way, I have forgotten one tiny incident before yesterday’s day end. As we walked out of the park (see chapter eight), we saw many wishes – written onto the tags that were given upon entrance – hang onto the trees. I stopped and read one, it said: I wish my mother won’t hit me anymore. Now, ponder upon this.

My family’s dog has a very persistence way of getting attention, especially while I was reading a very enjoyable book. First, he would walk to and fro right in front of me hoping to get my attention. Then, he would “accidentally” step onto me and quite honestly, with his sharp claws, it could be mildly painful. After that, he would rub his head onto my legs and climb onto me. If I don’t give in, he would start to lick my toes and imagine a cold winter day, it is not a nice feeling. Not to forget to mention as a yet-to-be-converted-dog-lover, this whole notion is not at all adorable. If I start to walk away (at times, he may just want the sofa seat that I am currently sitting), he would grab my leg and stop me from going away. If I choose to sit down, he would repeat the same thing till I give in. This time round, gave in I did not! I saw him going away thinking that I have won. But no, he was looking for his one-legged duck (one of his toys – see chapter 6) and placed it right in between my legs. With his jaws so close to probably one of the most important parts of my body, I gave in … sigh … and played with him and stroked him. The entire history repeated itself again. My family’s dog has such a high stamina. If only I have spent such a great deal of time getting physical with my own wife … oh well.

Met one of my really old friend AY for a drink at a hotel that is just 2 minutes away from my apartment (remember the 5 minutes walking radius? see chapter 2). It was supposed to be a “double-date” – my wife and I and his wife and him. But his wife was sick so there was only the three of us. Let me introduce my old friend AY. He was a legend in my primary and secondary school (being the top student all the time) and we have only formally met when we met at Oxford University, UK when he was 3 years of my senior. He has been my inspiration throughout my years and we met up with each other from time to time. This time we met up, our topic was mainly on his recent Tokyo trip (in which my wife now is so excited wanting to go), his bungee jump and other adventures (in which my wife now is so inspired to do those crazy things before we age), and the computer game Football Manager (in which both my wife and AY shared the same passion on the in’s and out’s of football). I challenged them to play the game and looking forward to beating them so as to show that in depth knowledge in football does not necessary make a great manager. We shall see!

Just when Cynthia and I was about to cross the little road back to my apartment, we witnessed an accident between a taxi and a bus. The scary thing was that the taxi has lost control of the car and crashed onto the pedestian walkway. Had the taxi not hit a tree, it would have crashed its way into the Lexus showroom (again, the 5 minutes walking radius). We walked towards the accident site and I was ready to dial 999 if there was a need to (and I wouldn’t make the same mistake when I was in Singapore dialing 911 after seeing a motorcyclist went down). No one was hurt and I have made a mental inspection of the condition of the taxi and amazingly, Cynthia remembered the bus number. After a half an hour discussion with my mother, we have tried our best in reconstructing the accident.

Just ahead of the accident site was a junction with traffic light. The bus (according to my mother with the knowledge of the bus number as remembered by Cynthia) came from the slip road and the taxi, hence, must come from the main road. After role playing both as the taxi and bus driver, we have strong belief that the taxi must have gone through a red light while the bus was approaching the traffic at a high speed. Just when the taxi on the fast lane shot pass the traffic light, the bus could not have stopped in time and started honking at the taxi. The taxi might have slowed down due to the warning issued by the bus while the bus negotiated the bend at high speed and hit the taxi directly at its back at the fast lane. After the taxi was hit once, it has lost control and spinned to its right. The taxi then hit by the bus again (the right passenger’s door was damaged as well as its back). This time, the taxi spinned to the left and hit the tree.

A female pedestian was really closed to the taxi when it hit the tree. Imagine how shocked she was.

I shall begin this chapter with music and end it with music. I miss my guitar, I miss my songs, and I miss my primitive home studio. This morning, I dreamt of writing the structure of a song (one of my few ways of writing songs) – a simple two chords for the first bar, one chord for the first second half bar, and two chords for the remaining second bar. I could have written it down right here right now but with no guitar to verify the correctness of such a chord progression, I would not wish to embarass myself in the future just in case I have become a big star. In my dream, I was going through the song structure with my band’s guitarist Jason and was showing him how the strumming with distortion was going to be and how the song would transit to a fast pace riff and ended with a clean strum with Jason’s electric guitar using an effect that turned the sound into piano sound. The dream was so vivid that I still remember what the song was like. I so miss my guitar back home in Singapore.

Walked into a supermarket in Hong Kong and I could not believe my eyes to see that a bottle of red wine costs S$8.50. Well, it surely won’t taste that good but it is an alternative for daily consumption. Why the wine in Singapore is so expensive?

Met up with my favourite uncle and his family for dinner. He knows the waiters and waitresses and supervisors so well that I was thoroughly entertained throughout the entire dinning experience. The staffs love him so much that he is conned as The Chairman. This dinning episode reminded me of how dramatic and animated Hong Kong people are. Drama is in our blood, part of our culture.

Walked to one of the park in Central (Central Business District) and the park was turned into a place to celebrate Christmas (digression: why do Hong Kong people love to take photo so much) – beautiful decorations together with a live band. A live band! I was so delighted to see a live band playing in the park. The bassist – a Japanese – was cool. The way he played the bass was amazing. The leader of the band, I presume, played his guitar well. He sang and played saxophone too. The drummer and the rhythm guitarist was pretty good. But the female vocalist and keyboardist was a disappointment. I was so surprised to see that they were playing with the song scores right in front of them. My band contemplated such an option as my songs’ chord progression is quite unique (read: hard to memorise) and of course I still hope to fully engage the audience instead of peeping onto the scores from time to time. I have a feel that this band is from Singapore as they have made a few hard-to-miss references.

Now, add to that “missing” list – I miss my band.

Let’s go through the numbers. Entrance fee to Hong Kong Disneyland Resort (official name) during peak days is HKD 395 (S$85). Total damage for 4 persons one day in Disneyland including food and gifts rounds to be in excess of HKD 3,000 (S$650).

Having been to Euro Disney and the one in US (California?), I have to agree with my mother that Hong Kong Disneyland Resort is the smallest of all. Nevertheless, if you are in Asia and don’t feel like paying a lot to fly, Hong Kong Disneyland Resort is your next best bet.

You will see some photos I have taken when I am back in Singapore. Meanwhile, here are our highlights. Having stayed in Disneyland for 12 hours, we still have not covered all the rides and theme parks – probably we were taking our time. A big improvement I have seen is something called FastPass. You walk up to a small machine next to the ride you wish to join and punch in with your entrance pass. The machine will then allocate what time you should come back and when arrived at the allocated timeslot (1 hour) and zoom, you jump the queue. No time wasted while waiting.

Not to turn this chapter into an entire book, I am only going to name three memorable highlights. The rest you can explore by yourselves once you come to Disneyland.

The indoor rollercoaster was fun. It was pitch dark and only after the ride was started had I worried for my mother behind. In my own words: Mum, it is Disney, the ride can’t be that excited. We have printed the photo evidencing (a) how intense my wife Cynthia was (eyes wide open), (b) how scared my sister Lora and my mother were (eyes wide shut), and (c) how excited I was (mouth wide open with a big smile).

The 3D cinema was breathtaking. With the 3D spectacles, the image was so 3D and it could as well be the best 3D effect I have seen in my life so far. The technology has gone so far that during the show, we could feel the wind blowing to us from various directions, the water sprinkled onto us, and believe it or not, the smell of the surrounding changed as the show went. The last bit was cheeze but was a good effort. Donald Duck was supposed to shoot out of the screen (with the help of the 3D spectacle) and into the wall behind us (and yes, you see a duck’s butt sticking out wingling from the physical wall).

The firework at 9pm over the sleeping beauty’s castle was beautiful. The entire 10-15 firework was synchronised very nicely with the music. It could as well be a work of art. Even the locals agreed that the firework at Disneyland was better than the famous Chinese New Year firework. I agree with them.

My favourite Disney character may not be a tourist attraction as yet (errr … Stitch) but I do enjoy the visit.

Having a holiday back in your birth-town is not exactly the same as having a holiday in some exotic places. Your primary activity is to spend time with your family and do that I should.

My routine falls under three board categories: eat, read, and getting harassed by my family’s dog. I have not stopped eating, from the moment I open my eyes till I sleep. There are so much food in the house and I just keep on eating and eating and eating even though I am not hungry. As I typed, I have just finished my “Christmas dinner” (enough fried food that I would have been horrified back in Singapore as I do my vocal exercise daily) waiting for my “Christmas cake” while sipping red wine.

It is such a pleasure reading Jeffery Archer’s A Prisoner’s Diary. I kept giggling during my reading that my family keeps looking at me curiously. Explaining that I am indeed reading a prisoner’s diary doesn’t help at all.

My dog harasses me. Yes, you are hearing me. While I am reading my book, he kept on bugging me to play with him. From scratching my feets to hopping onto my leg to get my attention. He loves to get me to play with him a one-leg-duck toy (God helps the duck, it lost one leg already for obvious reason). We end up once again tearing the plastic duck apart – his teeth against my hand. What a dog! And when I wish to play with him, he is just not in the mood. Oh well …