The Vain Her & The Veined He

Mr Dimples has veins running down his arms suddenly. That was the first thing I noticed when I was in his car and he put his hands on the steering wheel. After waiting expectantly for them to disappear, which happily they did not, I began to nurture hope they could be a more long-term fixture. Miracles never cease. An hour later, I asked irrepressibly (and most casually), ‘’how come you have veins today? Did you go and cultivate them over the week?” “I went to play badminton yesterday and my hands are crippled, you see.” “I think you should play badminton often then. Having veins make people attractive.” After which I switched topic immediately.

Veins are cool. ‘Nuff said.

*

Today, I was a happy and accomplished schoolgirl. Went to the Lido Isetan private sale in the late morning and bought 3 pairs of shoes at 30% off that were the last in my size. Also bought the Clinique set to start on a new skin regime in conjunction with the whole swallowing nonsense and walked away with many skin freebies and a $25 voucher.

While attempting the shopping physically in Orchard, I was also getting Minxiu to buy Regent mooncakes on my behalf from the company roadshow. That saved me more time to do what a girl’s gotta do.

My conquests were damn heavy so I dumped everything at his place in the end, especially since some of the mooncakes required to be refrigerated (?!) before hitting town again.

Then, it was utilizing the Women’s Weekly one-for-one dining voucher at Swissotel Merchant Court for its high tea buffet.

And because we are movie soulmates, we watched p.s together. Yes, it’s not high school anymore. We get hurt, but we move on. The chapter has been closed and the book, burnt.

Did more shopping at Heeran where I bought a strawberry shortcake vintage tank top from NUM and Minxiu got himself a pussy tee at instant karma.

I must say NUM shop assistants are very hot!!! Where the hell do they find time to pump iron if they are manning the shop?! Embarrassingly, I have never noticed their veins because I never get passed the well-muscled shoulders anyway. I like.

Leave well-spent, for sure. And it’s back to work. Scarlet, then Ritz-Carlton visiting tomorrow. Oh well.

Hard To Swallow

He: I’ll do you a favour tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the void deck of your place to pass you your painting at 2.15pm.

Sounds simple? I guess it could be simpler had he just suggested passing me the painting at the end of the day since we were already going out together tomorrow.

I’m second-guessing but you don’t suppose it is entirely possible he’s thinking of parking his car at my place and manfully volunteering to carry the painting all the way to my flat? Erm, that’s sweet but am I expected to invite him in? Would it be awfully rude if I tell him to step aside and to wait outside while I put the painting into its new abode and then hurry out to meet him?

Mess in the house is one fine thing, but I would feel weird to have a male presence in my place, even if it’s a super short while and even if said male presence is nice to have around (just not in that designated spot).

I’m thinking too much, am I not. Oh my head.

*

Taitai-in-training day with fellow taitai trainee Shimin. After 3 hours @Party World making the requisite singing rounds, I did significant damage to my finances at the Imedeen boutique (now I swallow too!) and the haute couture bazaar at Hilton hotel. Bought a white lace top, a turquoise + silver flowers + pearls-wrap around long necklace and adorable fairy earrings.

I Love You

In normal newsflash, he finally said I love you.

And so he did, when we were at Tanglin Camp for the Art Biennale and there’s this hilarious installation work in which you scream loudly into the microphone in front of a huge picture board completely filled with ladies gazing adoringly at you. The ladies will cheer enthusiastically, depending on how you utter your declarations.

Say what, he asked.

Say I love you lah, and I rolled my eyes.

And the good-natured him obliged and shouted I love you very, very much to my amusement.

I’m afraid Tanglin Camp was more fun for me than it was for my companion. Mr Dimples had originally wanted to see the sculptures at UOB, Raffles but acceded to my horrified outburst of “how can we not go Tanglin Camp, especially when it closes at 6pm and sculptures can see anytime what.” He remarked it was more of a science exhibition upon finishing our rounds.

Yes, likewise the works at Tanglin Camp were bizarre for me too. The location and context didn’t seem to count in what was installed. You could take out the artwork from Tanglin Camp and display it at home, and it wouldn’t matter. At least the one can read meanings into the exhibits put up at old Supreme Court.

Nevertheless, I had a gleeful time running all over the place. Mr Dimples, bless him, was in the early stage of full-blown flu. I wish he told me earlier so that we can postpone the outing but being the gallant guy he is, he manfully just grinned.

Lunch at East Coast Boon Tong Kee and dinner at Samy’s Curry.

One scene in particular stuck out. I can’t remember what preceded this or set the premise for his remark but he was mentioning he seldom jio anyone out these days. The natural reply from me was “busy huh” and he simply repeated his statement he seldom jio anyone out these days. On hindsight, perhaps I could have come back with something naughty like “is it because you are always with me” but witty utterances have rarely coincided with timeliness. And oh today, I did find Mr Dimples hot and I seemed to have banished the offending law. Yay.

*

In more important news: I’m back on a bloody diet and vowing to run at least twice a week henceforth. I’m getting fat. So if you are my friend, we are only to eat at healthy establishments if we have to eat. I need to detox after one too many lunches at chichi hotels and dinners at atas places.

As an aside, I went to shinhwa concert last week as well as the Wu Bai & Zhang Zhen Yue double bill the week before.

百花齐放

Sometimes it feels I have given up on minding and mining the social issues. Like how I simply stopped writing poetry one fine day, and suddenly, how this poetic condition of lack has persisted doggedly to extend to a few (but one too many has passed already) years. My disconcertment is incommensurable with concern and care though. I do notice, and it does bother, slightly, now and then, but the sense of unease disperses as quickly, as I throw myself into The Everyday Life with such matter-of-brute-fact finesse and lost enthusiasm that I reckon even Heidegger himself would disapprove. Strange, strange Dasein.

I can turn myself only momentarily away from the cruel facticity of my being: the burdensomeness of Being, of mattering and what matters, not. In the face of it all, I remained mostly unmoved, untouched, and life stays insanely uneventful.

What can I do, my love, to demonstrate my youth and my beliefs, that they are still alive, and burningly so? Writing about them in the straightforward way seems too callous and does no justice when everything is so blatantly wrong. Isn’t it obvious enough?

How many of me, are there, in this place that claims me as her own? How many thinking, disconnected individuals who can no longer identify with bloody, bleeding relations. Oh yes, to dye, as so to dilute into one even consistency, the many faceted Reality can only die.

To dare myself, can you, why can’t anyone do something? We can attempt the small first: start a trust fund to get him out of bankruptcy? Just a dollar from each one would suffice and we can spare the dollar.

Why are we writing all the time? Even though it can be worse, like not writing, like forgetting poetry.

Background

Grazing The Japanese

Graze @ One Rochester has a very Great Gatsby feel to it. It’s the way the chatter of the guests bounces off the private estate. And so did the many dim lights, and the lawn garden contribute.

Celebrating Ryan’s birthday in advance, we had two entrees, the house platter for four and the complete dessert tasting platter. The house platter hosted grilled meat: sirloin steak, lamp chops, chicken, pork and sausage. I can’t see my meat, thanks to the dim lights, but it was mostly overcooked since it tasted tough and chao-dar, with the exception of the steak. So yucks. But guys will be guys, so YQ polished off everything, even when Ryan and Mr Dimples waved white flags.

We managed to sully the atas settings splendidly by attempting to teach Mr Dimples functional Japanese when everyone has settled in a semi dazed, semi crazed mood. So YQ started the game when he declared he learnt his Japanese from erm, rated movies. And Ryan has watched his fair share. I’m, of course, educated formally via Japanese electives in NUS. The three of us sent one another (Mr Dimples included) into fits when we drew up a fun way to learn Japanese by committing the adjectives learnt via memory through sexual context.

*

Male: ii desu ka, doo

Female: chotto

Make: nani

Female: itai

Male: doshite

Female: ookii

Male: soo

Male: ima doo. yamete mo

Female: ano

Female: yasashii ne.

Female: kimochi

Male: sore de wa mo ichi doo

*

Mr Dimples revealed the British side when YQ started doing the fraternity boy chuckle when we came to how minna can be used. Yes, very well-bred indeed, it’s comforting to know some people still believe the act should be kept to between two people and no more beyond. Anyway, he earned brownie points by driving stoically through a 1.5 hour jam. We were supposed to eat @Mt Emily but traffic all the way there was crazy. We had to cancel our reservation upon arrival when we realized we couldn’t stay long enough at the table. And so off we drove to Rochester Park which was basically at the other end of the island.

I guess the law (of diminishing returns) can be combated by hanging out in a group.

Nevertheless Mr Dimples and I are going out later today to catch the rest of the biennale art exhibits. Let’s see how the law holds up.

The Arts & The Un-Artful Dodger

I think I have been too much of The Epicurean and Hedonist lately.

Refrain. Restrain. And Abstain.

Tonight was my first time doing chichi fine dining at one of those highly recommendable little obscure *read exclusive* restaurants specializing in European cuisine. I figure I should give fine European dining a chance to impress, no matter how partial and fond I am of Chinese food.

I ended up in Sage, with Wang Yun as my stoic companion through the four course dinner. The verdict? Well, apart from living in poverty for the week to come, I’m still hopelessly in love with Chinese food. The intense burst of eclectic flavours in European cuisine is too much to bear. After all, I’m Chinese and subtlety wins hands down. I am a simple person and I appreciate my food to resemble what they are supposed to. Too pretty, too blended, too erm buried, is weird. I had an appetizer that had Italian parsley foam, and yes, it was firmly foamy. Desserts were lovely though. I enjoyed the chocolate soufflé!

To my stoic companion, thank you for going along with a whimsical request. I hope the dinner first wasn’t too bad even if you disregard Experience. I promise subsequent ones will be zi-char at worst – strictly Chinese.

Before the extravagant dinner, we went to the old Supreme Court to catch part of the Singapore Biennale exhibits. I like!!! I’m only beginning to cultivate a liking for installation art but damn, there are so many things to read into – it’s bloody fascinating lor. Of course I could be entirely biased because of the literal premise where the exhibits are residing. The old Supreme Court is soooooo cool! I’ve been to the new one but the sparkling newness can’t compare to the obvious heritage and tradition pervading every musky corner of its much, much older cousin. I would dearly love to work here and breathe in justice, equality and democracy. Yes, in that place, all clichés are justified true beliefs. Ideals, they are a reality when I stepped into the old building. Do go, just to take in what the old Supreme Court is like, if not for the biennale. I was so enamoured and curious that I took the opportunity (and liberty, pun intended) to open the drawers and cupboards just to get a sense of the people who used to work here, via any forgotten article (again, pun intended).

Plus, we did get a brief workout by exploring Fort Canning Park.

And way before all these was a late morning ktv session with my dear friend and her boyfriend.

A day well-spent, what more can I ask for. Hmm, a lot more but I’m happy. I could be happier without the various thought associations so commonly conjured among the weak plaguing me but damn, I’m weak, can. So while I’m happy, I also think of silly things like will the boyfriend tell him about me, if they talk about me in the first place and the ultimate: even more thinly tangential ones like oh, Supreme Court, am I walking in the places the legal one has passed through so many years ago.

Those days are gone.

There are times we can be too sentimental for our own good.