Friday, September 21, 2007
post-traumatic stress disorder.
ah yes! it's finally the end (of the near-end) and i have some time to pen my thoughts! haha... just came back from changi airport (no i didn't fly to phuket and back after an hour), so there are some things that are swirling in my mind and awaiting expression onto this blank slate right now...
walking is a great start to unearthing new things! i walked from school to the bus stop at adam road, from tekka mall to national library and around the airport (ok, those were really useless details)! i guess, when you walk around instead of just passing buildings and people in vehicles, you get to see more, hear more and feel more? when your sight fleets from the black-and-white laselle college to the old nafa and the peculiar, weathered facade of the 戏剧学院, you start to notice things that you have never seen before and things that you never thought it existed in singapore... like, nafa gallery 3 which houses free-for-all installation art and a little, inconspicuous church-turned-art gallery 5 minutes from the crowded temples of rochor... and when you turn your attention to these little gems so stubbornly encrusted in the grime of city life, it feels slightly heartening to know that there are places in this cold world that offer warm refuge and oases of peace to stressed and scarred souls... and not to forget the whole fun bit of discovering creative stuff in a world of re-invention and original mimicry. and all you have to do is walk and see things from a whole new perspective. take a short trip on foot and skip through the sights and sounds of our little land. who knows, you might stumble on a delightful rarity!
speaking of rarities, i discovered a really well-brewed kopi-o at changi airport! totally unexpected, when you consider how things at the airport are usually sickeningly overpriced, shamelessly branded as "made in singapore" and suck hell-lot... i found it at a place called "changi kopitiam" (wtf, so bloody cliched) and God, the coffee was godsend (for a junkie like me) at 9.30pm... imagine the velvety liquid blackness with all its subtle bitterness and beany aroma... haha.
and there were so many muggers at the airport at 10pm! study there at TEN IN THE NIGHT?! they are out of their minds! but honestly speaking, it is a really good place to study at other times (my dad thinks otherwise; apparently to him, a good place to study is a quiet place -_-) - you can mug in an air-conditioned area and look at 1. planes or 2. people when you are bored... so much better than orchard where there are only 1. vehicles (that are all freaking similar! why can't there be more lamborghinis, mini coopers and porsches arnd for us to drool over?!) and 2. equally bored-looking schoolkids and well-heeled bimbos.. zzz. and you can be so near the place you wanna be this moment - in the plane bound for a land faraway from the stone-coloured desk. and if you're bored of people and planes, you can even hop on the skytrain for fun (haha why do i sound so childish... and i definitely sound like an stb ambassador, lol)!
well, enjoy the weekends! how near we are to the very last stop...
(random) i particularly like this soliloquy from anton ego from ratatouille and some parts do resonate with the earlier bit of the entry...
"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgement. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talents — new creations. The new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more."
let the fearless prevail.
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