Razors And Numbness

I draw it around me like a coat,

...and watch you through its folds...

It silences every word and gestures...

Every move I make...If you were to strike me,

I would only feel shadow blows,

If you were to touch me,

I would only feel shadow comfort,

My distance is my security,

But its refuge is cold and numb...

Have you ever coiled yourself...

around a razor blade because the cold bite....

and sharpened tang were all you could feel...

...and it was better than feeling nothing???

Feeling Yoda

I was with the boy's again last night. We ended up drinking too much and talking about religion, sex, philosophy, cars and our experiences with errr...'substances'. Yes, I am unclean. I've had my share of experimentation. I'm not an addict by any means but I do know why people take drugs and what it does to you. I don't encourage it but I don't regret having those experiences. There are advantages actually. My kid's and if one day he/she got high on weed, there is no way in hell he/she can hide it from me.

I feel a great disturbance in the Force now.

I feel strangely anxious, like I forgot something or did something wrong without realizing it. I wrack my brain and could think of nothing real as such, however. Perhaps I need to hit the pub again tonight and with help, remove this...discomfort, this restlessness.

And talking about feelings, there be times when I observe the actions of others, remember how close their actions are to mine when I was younger and more naive, and cringe.

Yoda was wrong. Trust your feelings, you can't.

I have seen how feeling turn otherwise sane, pleasant people into shadows of themselves. Your feelings sometimes get in the way of doing the right thing. How it turns people into stalker weirdos who become obsessive and freak the hell out of their objects of desire.

Feel for someone, and watch how it turns you into a selfish monster, where every action and every word you say is tainted by that desire to satisfy your 'feeling'. That taint takes the sincerity out of your words and actions, and that taint changes you. It does.

That taint, it makes people pushy and possessive. That taint makes it nearly impossible to be spontaneous. It makes it impossible to be yourself.

Feeling can lead you to the dark side. Damn it, Yoda!!! Need a drink, I do!!!

The Weekend Advise

I had a good weekend. It was a relaxing one and most welcomed. What with the tiring week it has been.

I was back at the pub and it was good to meet up with the boys. I was also at a weeding reception and like all Iban wedding's, the potential of getting very drunk was obvious and so, I was. I also watched 'Happy Feet' with a female comapnion who coaxed me to believe that it was a good movie. I don't watch a lot of animated films but this woman cornered me and dragged me to it. It was in fact, very good. I was happy.

I just stepped outside for a smoke just now. The sun is just at the horizon. Thick cloud cover this morning. But I must say, I like the color of the sky this time of the morning. A little off-black. Some blue. Very nice.

There was a cry for help this morning. I hope what I said did help. That's the problem with helping sometimes. There is always a worry in the back of my head, that maybe some things that we say that might ring hollow and make things worse. I should know how that feels like.

There were times that I needed help and all I hear is the hollow ringing of empty promises and false hopes. It doesn't make it better.The best way to help is to listen and not judge. Sometimes, that's good enough.

My female companion for the week gave me some really good advice the other day. No, she didn't say that things will get better and that everything will be okay. She doesn't know that, so she doesn't say that. She simply said, never feel bad about asking for help when you need it. Never apologize or worry about what you have to do to help yourself.

That's some pretty good advice.

This And A Cemetery

I seem to do things better when I don't care what happens in the end. It's inexplicable, because logic dictates that if one cares about a task then one would be more thorough thus ensuring a good result. As for me, I do my best work when I just wing it. Whatever it is, whether work or interactions with people or whatever. The only reason that makes any sense is that in my case, if I care too much I get nervous. If I'm nervous I screw up. Now, what I want to figure out is how to be concerned about an outcome and not be nervous. I'm too complex for my own good. Also, I think too much.

Doesn't it just crack you up that people can't/don't/won't read signs. This is also inexplicable. How many times have you seen this? An otherwise sensible, intelligent person would walk up to a door and tug and pull and struggle, all the while failing to notice the loud sign that says "Closed". I saw this happen a lot of times at the two bank downstairs. One time the staff were cleaning up the place during lunch, locked the front door and put up our sizable "Closed" sign with a notice in English, Malay and Chinese informing their customers that they were cleaning up and would be opened as usual in an hour. I counted 2 dozen people tugging at the door in the next 30 minutes. Some even stood there for minutes, scratching their heads seemingly unable to comprehend that the "Closed" sign may be related to the fact that the door wouldn't open. This morning at 8:45am, a nice old lady did the same and I told her that the bank opens at 9:00am. Are these people deficient? If they are then I am too. I too am guilty of trying to push a door open while the sign on the handle says PULL. It's inexplicable.

I'm going to go to the cemetery this evening. This month marks an anniversary of death of someone I knew. Cemeteries don't freak me out. There's something morbidly fascinating about cemeteries. Especially those ancient ones with graves from the late 19th Century. Like the one near the House of Epiphany behind St. Thomas's Cathedral. I used to go there a lot while I was still in school, for no other reason other than to read the names and the epitaphs. I find cemeteries to be oddly peaceful. Try it. Go there an hour before sundown. I wonder if this graveyard fascination's got something to do with me being prone to melancholy.

There are other more important things happening around me, obviously, and they're all good things, but I'd rather not write about them until they're cut and dried and rolled up to be smoked in a celebratory manner.

Hmmm...cutting, drying, rolling and smoking...sounds very good now.

Mails

I wonder if you get as many chain letter mails in your mail box as I do? If there is anything I hate to see in the morning it would be one of these chain letter mail that I supposedly have to send to 25 person for the benefit of a 6 year old girl in Tibet with a breast on her forehead so she will be able to raise enough money to have it removed before her parents sell her off to the travelling freak show. And like this one I got the other day that says that Bill Gates is going to give me and everyone who forwards the mail a thousand grand. And if I scrolled down the page, and make a wish, it'll come true and all that shit. And then there was the one on this free handphone thing. These crap mails are from friends nonetheless. Look, if you consider yourself my buddy, please refrain from sending me all these. If you're going to forward something to me, at least send something mildly amusing. Thank you.

I got this in my mail today and I thought this was very true and honest. I have a lot of friends but the ones who I can really count on and confide in are few. Very, very few. I'd rather have friends who are honest and tell me in my face that I screwed up rather than the one's who try to paint a rosy picture of my failures and flaws. The rest, as they say, are just fair weather buddies. This is what Mart sent me.

Aren't you just tired of those sissy "friendship" poems that always sound good, but never actually come close to reality? Well here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship. You won't see any cutesy little smiley faces in this list just the stone cold truth of our great friendship. And in bold letters so that you can read it.

• When you are sad, I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.


• When you are blue, I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.


• When you smile I will know you finally got laid.


• When you are scared, I will rag on you about it every chance I get.


• When you are worried, I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.


• When you are confused, I will use little words.


• When you are sick, stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.


• When you fall, I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.


• And always remember....when life hands you lemons, ask for tequila and salt and call me over!!!

See. The above is honest and very often than not, what I would get from my real friends.

And this one too.

As explained by Cliff Clavin, of Cheers. One afternoon at Cheers, Cliff Clavin was explaining the Buffalo Theory to his buddy Norm. Here's how it went :

"Well ya see, Norm, it's like this... a herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."

I can't agree with Cliff more. So, bratha's, let's all continue to indulge and get drunk.

And Mart, thanks for being a good friend and for just being there, you slimy bastard of a twit!!!

Tired And Worried

It's going to be a long, hard week. Work's been especially heavy since I came back but that's not unusual. I was expecting this. And if it weren't for the fact that I really need to do some overtime due to the piling files on my table, I would be so distressed by now. I only have one full day off this week and that's Sunday. Next week I'm going to put all these aside. I could use some rest, straighten things out and go back to my usual routine again. The boys have been worried. But really, it's no fun coming back from a well deserved break only to be greeted with piles of work and work related problems. I was worried there for a while.

Worry is wasteful isn't it? To me there is really no point in entertaining such an emotion. Better spend energy fixing the CAUSE of the worry rather than to stay awake the whole night WORRYING. Worry is like a flag, it pops up when things are not right. It signifies the fact that we realize that something has to be done to change something that's gone awry. When worried, I try to find the cause and isolate it. Maybe solve or remove it. That would be the ideal.

Some people I know feel that if I don't show any outward signs of worry, it means I don't care. If I'm not losing my head and panicking means I'm being apathetic. Nothing is further from the truth. I do care. It's just that I try not to worry too much. It's a waste of time. Really.

Am I immune to worry? No, I'm human after all so yeah, I do worry. But I never let that dictate my actions. At least I try not to. Of course that's easier said than done. Being human, I can't rationalize everything everytime. I get flustered. I get anxious. I lose my head and act unrationally. I'm sure everyone's heard of the serenity prayer. You know the one where one asks for wisdom to tell the difference between things that one can or cannot change? To me, basically it means to say that one shouldn't worry too much. Change what we can and bear with what we can't.

What else can we do?

Sometimes the hardest thing to do is not to do anything but wait.

Monday Blues

Have you ever woken up and knew deep down in your gut that you were about to have a really, really bad day? I'm having that feeling right now. Each day begins with some kind of vibe doesn't it? It does for me. I feel a vibe and I get a feel for what a day would be like. Usually, the vibe is there constantly throughout the day. There are times though, when a day began with a bad vibe and ended really well. Maybe today will be such a day ? God, I hope so. Or maybe its just Monday.

I'm tired. My energy level is low. I feel like pulling the sheets over my head and curling like a boiled tiger prawn. This is probably because of the stuff going on at work. We're being audited and I had to accelerate the progress of some of my projects. Of course that means deadlines. Did I mention before that I hate deadlines? And that I'm no good under pressure? It's not all bad though. It's November. I love the end of the year. Days have vibes and so do months. And the last two months of the year carry with it a certain vibe too. A good, bluesy vibe. It's hard to describe.

I usually feel more melancholy than usual around this time, but this year I'd like to change that tendency. And to that end, I resolve to become less of a hermit and socialise a little bit more. And come December I hope to have company and people to visit and more.

I Came, I Saw, I Liked

I arrived at 4:30am in Rome and it was cold. Very, very cold. I had my first taste of Italian hospitality and demeanour when I asked for directions to the train or bus station in the most elementary English from two policemen and an airport staff. I got a lot of hand gestures and the Italian shrug instead. Maybe it was too early in the morning. I gave up and took the cab. I asked how far my hotel was and the good cab driver said 30 minutes and rained more Italian lingo on me. What he didn't tell me was that 30 minutes actually meant doing 170 KM/Hr on the highway. Cab fare : 160 Euro. Go ahead, do the conversion on that and tell me if that's not enough to make a man cry.

When I have imagined Rome, I've always thought primarily about the ancient stuff. You know, the Colosseum, Pantheon, Circus Maximus, Forum - all the millennia old ruins. What hits me about Rome so far is that the vast majority of really interesting architectural features are medieval baroque and renaissance. The other fascinating thing is that most things seem to be hybrids, blends and mixtures of styles as architects, popes, cardinals and princes have added their personal stamp to buildings and public art over many centuries. There were many cathedrals too.

This is Paolo Pintarelli. My Italian connection. Thanks to him, my stay in Italy was made more meaningful. He prides himself to be related to the Riposati family who happens to operate one of the three oldest bakeries in all of Italy. He brought me over to the bakery to sample their speciality. For over three centuries the bakery had stood near the Trevi Fountain and frankly speaking, I have never tasted anything better. I was also given a two hour lecture by Paolo's aunt on the complex working into perfecting the Riposati's bread. In Italian nonetheless while Paolo translated feverishly trying to keep up with his aunt. These people talks too fast. The bread, I was told, is now baked in an electric oven : a wood oven was certainly more poetic, but it can't be regulated and it imparts a flavour of charcoal. I can't remember any other details as I was too overwhelmed by the sweet acidic smell of yeast. Or was that yeast at all. I don't know.

Paolo took me out for dinner on my first day in Rome and I had my first taste of authentic Italian food. Nothing fancy, really. Pizza, pasta and stuff in a stand up restorante and bar. Espresso and cappuchino's too. Very nice. The 'bars' in Roma are typically a short counter and maybe a couple of tiny round tables. They do sell alcohol in the evenings but during the day it's mostly coffee and cornetti. I was obviously disappointed.

Later, I shared with him the Tiger's I brought and he loved it. I had an extra 4 cans courtesy of this nice MAS stewardess. On my way back to my hotel we stopped to buy their local beer which I thought tasted more like distilled water.

I remember taking bus No.23 to go to Vatican City. This time without Paolo. I told him I wanted to do Rome on my own and lose the tourist trappings. I will remember that bus because I was sitting in one filled with the most beautiful women. I swear I was slowly undressing each one of them.

I was still entertaining my lustful thoughts when I realized I was approaching holy ground. The Vatican city. I have seen queues in my life but the ones I saw at the basilica's square into the main building was worthy of a rock concert. Too long but it moved fast.

I had to stand in line to see the most recent Popes tomb, Pope John Paul. There were a lot of dead Popes there.

Florence is another beautiful city. Lots of cathedral built in honour of the saints. But I was there to see the tower. Now, the story of the tower of Pisa construction cracks me up. Apparently they noticed the problem with the lean after only the third level had been built. So they stopped, and nothing was done for nearly a century. Instead of knocking it down and restarting, they then decided to build another four floors but at an angle to compensate for the tilt. Realising it was still tilting, the work was stopped again. Finally after yet another century, they just popped the bell chamber on the top and called it a day. Maybe they had great foresight though, as it has made Pisa a major tourist attraction. Ever wondered why it hasn't fell? You get tourist like that bastard up there posing everyday like that, that's why.

Venice is beautiful. There are virtually no cars in the city. It was a foggy, rainy day but that didn't stop me. I bought a map and small guidebook to the city for 2.50 Euro at the nearby tourist office - this turned out to be an invaluable purchase. Venice is unique of course because of the canals, but I had not realized that for the most part you cannot walk along the canals. The buildings go straight into the water with no walkway in front. You get from place to place by navigating through narrow cobblestone alleyways between the buildings. It is very difficult to follow any kind of map. There are yellow signs on the sides of buildings at certain intersections which will direct you in a general sense to two of the largest attractions - the Rialto Bridge and St. Mark's Square. So you can check the map against those signs to see if you meant to go toward one of those or away from it.

It was confusing and naturally I ended up just wandering around and getting lost. I also visited a couple of beautiful churches. There must be over 50 churches in Venice. I did eventually make my way to St. Mark's Square. More birds then people here. There was a long queue to enter the square and I thought "Man, it must be packed." When I got a little closer I realized the square was flooded!!! The tide was so high that there was about a foot of water throughout the square. The city had set up wooden platforms for people to walk on around the perimeter and between the major buildings. The platforms were so chockerblocked with people that policemen in hip waders stood alongside blowing their whistles to keep people moving. Of course all of the tourists were in awe of the gorgeous surroundings and wanted to stop to take pictures while on the platforms. I just had to laugh at the whole scenario. I didn't do the gondola ride. I figured spending 80 Euro for a 45 minutes ride was just beyond my already depleting budget.

Milan was cold and the people stylish. They pride themselves to be more refined and cultured than their southern kin. I visited the Duomo (yet another cathedral) in the city centre which was pretty, but most of the building was covered with scaffolding for cleaning. The stained glass windows were probably the best part of this disappointing visit. I paid for an audio guide of the church, but due to construction most of the areas mentioned on the audio guide were roped off. All I could do was imagine what they were talking about. I would have enjoyed climbing to the top of the church, but I forgot to do that before I left. I ended up coming back later to do that, but it was closed by that time.

In all honesty that is all there is to see in this city. You need reservations to see Leonardo DaVinci's Last Supper, and they were booked through November 5 already. One person I met did reserve a space to see the painting, and he was escorted into the room, rushed through in 15 minutes, and then brought out to a gift shop. Not sure that's worth 11 Euros.

That's me and Eve. Adam was too errrr....indecent.

I took a train back to Rome after deciding Milan was too complex for my liking. I didn't do much in Milan. I heard so much about Via Montenapoleone and its adjourning streets but walking amongst LV's, Channel and the likes wasn't a strong point on my visit list.

I stayed for two more days in Rome and went around the city on my own. I did the most obligatory sites in some detail - the Colosseum and the old Roman Forum. I hadn't realised that there were about half a dozen other later forums built by various emperors. The Colosseum is every bit as awe-inspiring as it's always assumed to be. A combination of precise stone work, brick-work and ancient concrete a couple of millenia old. What a sight it must have been during its hey-day. Filled with 60-70,000 shouting, laughing Romans having a grand day out at the old ball-park watching Christians being mutilated in the most gruesome way imagined. Like much of the really spectacular structures in Rome, it's difficult to get perspective on it and (I find it) hard to photograph. Hence, none of it deserves to be posted here.

On my last day, I went to the Spanish Steps and just sat there for hours watching people watching other people. Rome is beautiful. The sights were beautiful, the wine sweet, the gelatos very nice - they're everywhere, the women stunning and food fantastic. Yeah, there were a few Italians who were just plain arseholes but as Paolo warned me, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Before heading back to my hotel, I walked to Trevi Fountain. Legend has it that it is lucky to throw coins with one's right hand over one's left shoulder into it. One coin, and you are ensured a return to Rome; two coins to get married; and three to get divorced. I don't know if there is any truth in the legend surrounding this magnificent fountain but I did all three.

Ciao!!!

Vado A Roma

And so after much screw up's on my flight details, thanks to a certain Travel Agency, I'm finally boarding a plane tonight. I hope to get a good seat later though and preferably near the galley where I can have better access to the bar.

The first thing I'll do when I arrive later tomorow morning is to find a good pub. I doubt they'll serve Tiger but I'm well prepared. I'm taking with me a few can's just in case I miss home. I'm thinking Italian ragazza's and the mafia's right now.

Ciao!!!

Havana

It has been two whole months or more now since I've embarked on my quest for a replacement of a new 'my place'. I have gone to a few and was constantly disappointed. If its not the ambiance, its the obvious lacking of bar etiquette. I mean, if one is served a stale Tiger, one would expect a replacement. I didn't at one of the places I visited.

Just the other day, I was at this swanky new place in town when that happened and what reply did I get after consulting the 'very experienced' barman on my stale Tiger? A very lame - 'But it taste just fine, sir'. But what Mr Very Experienced Barman doesn't know is that I have sunk enough Tiger's in my time to know when I'm served the bottom of the barrel. I didn't argue with the man but instead ordered another one. Suffice to say I will never step into this place ever again.

For lack of a better choice I decided to set camp at this relatively new establishment in the city. It's called Havana Cafe. This photo shows the rear entry of the place. Why from the rear, you ask? Well, obviously for the very reason that I like entering from the rear. Any rear for that matter. But really, I have not walked into the place from its front entrance to date. I've been to the place a few times now but have only recently begun to find it agreeing with my soul.

I like the place. If you have discerning eyes, you won't miss noticing some items of interest with the infamous Havana Club logo and emblem. They even have a few bottles of Havana Club Rum which is supposedly Cuba's finest. But don't let all this fool you. Havana Cafe isn't Havana Club. But it could very well pass for the real thing.

The bar is well stocked with various labels of liquor and the ambiance, just nice. It even serves Tiger draft which I have not had the privilege to try just yet. I tried the Guinness draught for a change the other night though and it was surprisingly very smooth. I say this because I'm not a Guinness person and it has been a long time since I've had one. I had three pints of Guinness that night which gave me a good and almost gratifying buzz later.

Then there's Ben, Ying and Gary. These are the good people of Havana who keeps the bar alive. Ben, who claims to be an amateur barista, is the talkative one. I overheard the other day that he can actually work a good mix. I have yet to sample his speciality. Oh, by the way they do serve coffee, espresso and as Ben puts it, other exotic coffee mixture at Havana. I like Ying solely because she listens to Clint Black. That is all. Gary on the other hand is rather quiet but he's alright.

Havana is quiet. Very quiet actually but that's just why I like it. But there are nights when it gets a crowd.

I might just stay.