Refretting the '74 Tele Deluxe

I'll never be in a band. Don't have what it takes to play nice with other people and remember everyone's parts or my parts without a score. So I play little bits of random things here and there. Not going to put out any originals. Long past that. I just appreciate what other musicians have done, listen to their music and buy their albums. We've plenty of good songs across all genres nowadays, compared to that sad dry soulless period when we were growing up and that era where the government had a crazy distrust of musicians and discriminated against men with long hair.

My choice of musical instrument has always been the piano, as long as it doesn't involve classical pieces. The guitar is not something I'm great at, but will do for easy three-chord songs. I have slowly and insidiously appropriated all the man's Teles. Noticed that he doesn't use a Tele for his usual music which now leans towards progressive, post and ambient rock. Somehow I like the feel and sound on a Tele, especially when piped through a Mesa. I don't need a crazy pedal set-up like what the man has. I only need four standard pedals. Call it old-fashioned; I still like the combination of a wah, a chorus and a reverb. If need be, I'll steal borrow a distortion or an overdrive. Also, TC Electronics' Flashback Delay is a fun thingamajig.

The 1974 Tele Deluxe is uhhh just a bit older than me. The only Tele that doesn't sound like one. Beyond swopping out strings, we haven't done anything to it since the man bought it off a good pal in 2008. By now, after a fair bit of usage, it needed refretting. Of course we're not doing it ourselves. Goose, the good man and tech-whizz extraordinaire at gooseoniqueworx sorted that out beautifully. The man and I trust him with any guitar and all amps. This Tele now plays better than before. It sounds so rich and velvety all over again.

'Along The Golden Mile'

Made a visit to Objectifs to view Darren Soh's 'Along The Golden Mile'. Golden Mile Complex held no significant personal memories till very much later as an adult when I began unenthusiastic attempts at cooking and required specific ingredients, i.e fish sauce or Thai mushrooms; Golden Mile Complex became the place to get stuff. But till today, aside from Arab Street and its little lanes, the Beach Road area is unfamiliar to me. Now that there's The Projector, it would be compelling to hop over once in a bit. It was also hilarious because after Darren Soh took many shots of Golden Mile Complex, it has recently been re-painted grey over its earlier brown. Heh.

Loved how the third-floor gallery space turned three-dimensional. No photographs were framed. The photographs were printed out into hardy posters to line every inch of the walls, floor-to-ceiling. The organizers even put in the bright blue sky with fluffy clouds too. Nice! No frames in sight. It really gives a different feel to a photography exhibition. Love it. The prints didn't just capture the concrete, steel and glass façade of the buildings and architecture. They also offered a peek into the human dwellers within. Loved the details of slippers lining the residential units along a couple of floors at each block of flats.

Many of the buildings are new to me. I don't recall seeing them, even if they've been around for years. Then again, I'm not sentimental about places and venues in Singapore. They keep getting torn down, rebuilt or new buildings rise to replace the old. I don't particularly care about where 'home' is. As long as this home fits my needs for this specific chapter in life. Otherwise, I'll move away from a locale or a city. There isn't much space or affection for nostalgia.

The trail of photographic prints ended at the rooftop. 25 laminated prints lined the floor, defying the finicky weather and rain. Stayed for quite a bit to enjoy the view. Definitely no more nice cool weather of December and early January. The pervasive humidity and heat was full-on, but at least it was cloudy. Till 18 February 2015. Go! In this video, Darren speaks of his inspiration and thoughts behind creating the photographs. In the introduction to the show at the gallery, he said,

With the construction of Ole Scheereen's Duo Towers and other new developments in the area, my task of documenting the area is far from complete and will likely remain a work-in-progress for the foreseeable future. After all, the only constant in Singapore's urban landscape is that of change, and this applies to the Golden Mile as well.

The MIL Buys Me Orange Boxes

I teased the man, that he's really lucky that I don't bug him about gifts for me. His mom sorts that out fully. I simply appropriate all his Telecasters. Heh. Well, I'm perfectly capable of buying my own bags and whatever, but his mom, has fully taken over that function for me too. There isn't any need to even step into the malls at all. Yes, I like bags enough, but not obsessed over it. The mom keeps me updated on all fashion happenings. She has even somehow managed to find three stylish totes that could double up as practical camera bags when I place Aide de Camp's Bailey insert within.

The MIL has singlehandedly and splendidly filled up my whole cupboard with the iconic orange boxes from the fashion house. Mainly belts, scarves and many many bags from the local outlets and from her overseas jaunts. She's super sweet lah. She knows I'm not keen on its shoes, bracelets, pouches or wallets. She generously buys bags for me. Whatever the MIL has, she insists that I have a version of it too, especially when she knows I always pick out a different color from her. I go for boring colors. We don't share bags. She offers to pass me a bag each time she spies me heading out, but I rarely take her up on it.

The bag cupboard has become a collection of monotones. Hahaha. Even for the scarves. I prefer Hermès' solid colors and none of those floral stuff or prints. Even before the MIL returned from this trip, she already sent along a box as "a mid-trip hello", the note said. :) A cheerful new scarf in one solid color. WOOT.

Dreamscapes

When I dream, they're mostly nightmares. I rather enjoy them though.  Looking at my preferences for movies, tv series and books, it's no wonder. My nightmares almost always involve some sort of supernatural going-ons in a desolate shopping mall. A siege of humans versus vampires, lycans or zombies.

When the lads and lass of In Each Hand A Cutlass put out a two-track EP and titled it 'Forgetting', I didn't check it out till recently. The two tracks are named 'All We Are Left With Is A Memory Of A Memory' and 'Appetite for Dysfunction'. One could choreograph a contemporary dance piece to each, giving it whichever interpretation one chooses. As I listened, images rose unbidden. I strove to remember them, and willed the subconscious to dream about it in the night. To my great delight, my mind framed out a story that ran like a movie. They involve a simple storyline, gory murders and a lot of insane giggling.

The quiet start of this song. 'All We Are Left With Is A Memory Of A Memory'. Makes me think of a walk through the enchanted woods, full of swirling fog and will-o'-the-wisps. I'll eventually come across this dilapidated mansion and push the creaky hinges of the front door to explore its alluring interiors. 

Then the song slowly shifts to a crescendo and its final intensity. The mansion will be filled full of creepy dolls whose eyes follow my every movement, and whose heads I hack off with two katanas. I determinedly kick the bodies down the stairs to a pile at grand foyer with its swinging chandelier, walk out and set fire to the mansion. With grim satisfaction, I watch it burrrrn. In the roar of the inferno, one could hear faint screams fill the darkness.

The next song is 'Appetite for Dysfunction'. The mind continues the nightmare. Let's call it the 'revenge of the dolls'. From the burning mansion, the dolls rise. Those whose heads escaped the hacking and the fire come after me like evil tendrils. I flee through the woods, branches whipping my face, the undergrowth protesting at the rampage of human and inhuman dolls. In a clearing, I stop and bow low to catch my breath. Then grip both katanas tight, face the dolls and fight. It's an elegant fight. Both sides possessing supernatural strength that doesn't seem to dissipate. Till almost sunrise, the dolls weaken. The sun rises, bestowing warm light through the trees. The dolls burst into flames. I win.  

I awoke feeling...exhilarated. It wasn't difficult recalling this dream. Scrambled for a pen and paper to write it down. Then I listened to the songs again to the remembered dream and cackled merrily. Well. What can I say? This is definitely withdrawal syndrome- from watching too much of 'American Horror Story' and finishing up Season Four. 

「空色ヒッチハイカー」

Alongside English books, I read novels in four other languages too. Maybe five, if you consider written Cantonese in the traditional script a separate and distinct language from Chinese. While I speak and write them on a day-to-day basis with the friends and for work, and check out news sites, it's nice to simply read for leisure. What's the point of acquiring fluency in another language to reading competency and not bury my nose in it? As fluent as I am in these languages, there're certain phrases and nuances I haven't yet picked up simply because I don't 'think' in that language. Reading fiction helps.

Naturally, I also choose 'easy' topics to read. Hurhurhur. Nothing complicated. Which means I tend to pick the same genres to read as in English. Plucked this off Instagram and transferred it here. Instagram tends to annoy me and I keep all of three photos on it at any one time. A book review is wasted there. I rather type it out at length. Japanese is my second language, but I haven't been using it as much. It certainly helped me tons devouring episodes of anime and series after series of manga. Hehehehehe.

I love the physical size of Japanese novels. They seem to adhere to those cute dimensions that fit snugly into the palm while standing in a train. Which means one book fits into all bags. Read and rather enjoyed Tsumugu Hashimoto's 'Sky-Blue Hitchhikers'. 橋本紡の「空色ヒッチハイカー」 Set into seven chapters for the road trip of seven days over seven towns, it concludes with the eighth chapter, an epilogue cutely titled 'エピローグ And what we'll be', and a final comment by fellow writer Takii Asayo '解說 瀧井朝世'. 

This is literally and metaphorically a road trip of self-discovery of a teenager on the brink of adulthood. 18year-old Akitsu Shoji headed out one summer in his brother's 1959 Cadillac and a fake license. He began the seven-day journey from Kawasaki in Kanagawa to Karatsu in Kyushu, picking up hitchhikers along the way. The seven towns and chapters also detailed the people he met. In Chapter One, the first day at Kawasaki, of course he met a girl (第一日目 川崎―小田原 タンクトップ・ガール), moving on to Odarawa, Okazaki, meeting three more girls from the sector Rittō to Himeji, and a man with a stutter on the fifth day in Himeji (第五日目　姫路―廿日市　吃音男), then Hatsukaichi in Hiroshima prefecture to Fukuoka, and finally to Karatsu in Kyushu (第七日目　福岡―唐津　ファンダンゴ). Entertaining and rather enjoyable. 

One of my favorite lines which kinda summarizes the book's adventures, ideals and thoughts, was said by an old man to Shoji. It translates to something like, 'There's no need to have a point to the journey. It's the right and privilege of youth, of self-discovery.' Indeed, I say.

「あてどもない旅、それは若者の権利だ。」

'I'm A Ghost in My Own House'

At the beginning of her 12-hour cycle grinding charcoal into fine powder.
Melati Suryodarmo's 'I'm A Ghost in My Own House'.
At the Glass Porch, Level 2 of the Singapore Art Museum.

I'm a fan of artist Melati Suryodarmo. Her dedication to her craft is mind-boggling because it involves all sorts of pain and discomfort. In her submission for the Asia Pacific Breweries (APB) Foundation Signature Art Prize, titled 'I'm A Ghost in My Own House', she explains that this is based on her interest of the philosophy of charcoal. "From the tree to wood, from wood to charcoal, from charcoal to ash." 

Activated charcoal to prevent poisoning, but the process of obtaining life-sustaining coal adversely impacts the environmental and the health of coal miners. Coal dust and carbon. Pneumoconiosis. Black lung disease. What's amazing is that Melati Suryodarmo was present (yes, she was a student of Marina Abramović) for 12 hours in a performance space at the Singapore Art Museum where she crunched and ground a ton of charcoal briquettes. I stood in awe, silently watching. Saw her again in the evening. She looked utterly exhausted. Glad the Museum allocated a sun-lit performance space to her. This piece of performance art is as intense as it's also about sending a powerful message.

Choe U-Ram's (South Korea) 'Custos Cavum (Guardian of the Hole)'.  

There're 15 finalists from 13 countries shortlisted for the Signature Art Prize. Since 2008, the Prize aims to showcase the best of Asia-Pacific contemporary ideas "visually and metaphorically". Artworks are presented at the Singapore Art Museum. Wandered around the galleries. I was mesmerized by Choe U-Ram's 'Custos Cavum (Guardian of the Hole)', pictured above. His kinetic biomorphic sculpture moves and whirrs. Like it's breathing. Like "the ghost in the machine." Giggled at Arin Rungjang's 'Golden Teardrop'. It tells of the bloody history behind the traditional super-sweet egg-yolk dessert of the Thailand, derived from the Portuguese ovos moles, now known as thong yod (ทองหยอด). Of "scattered transboundary fragments."

Arin Rungjang's (Thailand) 'Golden Teardrop'.
A spherical sculpture of almost 6000 brass teardrops suspended from a timber and steel frame.

It's a mammoth task to even shortlist these 15 finalists who submitted artworks across mixed mediums. It was pretty cool seeing these artworks before the winning works of Signature Art Prize were selected. Reading about the winners in the news is all right, but it was more exciting to attend the Awards ceremony just to have a guess and hear it first. :)

The Grand Prize (S$60,000) was awarded to Ho Tzu Nyen (Singapore) for multimedia 4-channel HD video and light installation 'Pythagoras' where a disembodied voice speaks to the audience. Jurors' Choice Awards (S$15,000 each) went to Liu Jianhua (China) for 'Trace'- porcelain inky calligraphic marks on a swathe of rice paper as a sculptural installation on the wall (called 屋漏痕, wu1lou4hen2, or literally 'water stains on the wall') and Melati Suryodarmo (Indonesia) for 'I'm A Ghost in My Own House', and the People's Choice Award (S$10,000) went to Yao Jui-Chung (Taiwan) and Lost Society Document for his team's research of disused public buildings in Taiwan, a socio-political commentary comprising a lengthy-video of their records and documentation at each venue and 124 photographs.

What powerful visual art created by the artists. Hearty congratulations all.

Bath Salts

The gift smells divine. Notes of citrus and lavender wafted out strongest when I opened the jar. Ingredients include sea salt, Epsom salts, lavender essential oil, extra virgin olive oil, and I'm keeping the other ingredients a secret. Woot.

I'm just going to call it 'bespoke' because it is. Y is experimenting and blended a jar for me. I love this combination of scents because it's citrus-fruity rather than cloying sweet-fruity or sweet-floral. This is my very first jar of bath salts that I didn't have to buy at the shops. Hehehehe. For some reason, everyone keeps giving me tubes of shower gel for Christmas and birthdays but not bath salts.

The little jar sits on the shelf next to the bathtub. But I don't need to draw a bath in order to utilize this gift. I could simply add a few scoops to a bucket of hot water and sink my feet into it. And I have a very nice solid basin for this purpose. This homeblended jar is fantastic for that. My feet are abused on a daily basis. The frequent hot soaks do wonders for the soreness and angry bunions, and also soothe bruised nails. Epsom salt is great for alleviating blisters, kinda clean out chaffing and toenail fungus, or to prevent Athlete's foot. The feet is soaked most days after pilates and parkour. :)

This is a most thoughtful gift. It came with a chic hand-folded star. Love it.

'Everyday / 每一天'

This girlfriend always knows which types of gifts to get for me. She's very clever. She gave me a print from Neighborhood: GOODS titled 'Everyday / 每一天 '. #ampulets When she handed me the tube roll, I didn't even open it. Simply grinned my thanks. I knew what it is. Had eyed it when ampulets posted it on IG, but didn't get around to buying it.

Black and gold ink on marble white tracing paper. Mine's numbered 75/250. It's a simple idea, but so effective, and takes someone with passion to put it together in a simple one page presentation of the 2015 calendar. Clearly, the framing cost more than the print. Five times more. There'll probably be a new print next year. But the point is, I want to preserve this one. Costs are negligible.

It's very nice to simply stare at the framed-up print. One not-that-big page summarizing all of 2015. All the experiences to-come, and all that I will learn this year. It makes seem so easy to breeze through 365 days. I love the idea of the big old tree in the Toa Payoh neighborhood. Trees, mean so much. Of the environment, of shelter, and healthy trees reflect the condition of the soil, pollutants, etc, and that humans are taking care to preserve its roots. It reflects the everyday. The daily joys. Every day. To remember to be thankful for all the blessings in this life.

The BFF is a Little Fish

Dragged the bff out for dinner in the neighborhood. Had plans to have seafood at Pasarbella. The girl has never visited Pasarbella or The Grandstand since she came back to Singapore. Unsurprising, since her travel schedule is crazy as ever. She was curious and got there a bit earlier to check it out. She was distracted by the stores outside the fish and seafood area.

I yawned and went to plonk myself at a bench. She came back with all meats. All pork too. My gawwwd. Win lor. Clearly the BFF was in the mood to eat. Pulled pork sandwich, honey-roasted pork, belly pork with crackling, and beer. Of course she ate them all. How would my stomach cope with ingesting more than three pieces. Eiiiiyerrrr. Hehehe.

Needed to pass the bff an overdue Christmas present too. Just as well that the gift was late. Had time to add on another present. Popped in to the jewelry store to get a pair of earrings to congratulate her on getting her OWD. Yayyy. Onward to AOWD! For years, she had been struggling with equalizing the pressure in the ears, and finally, she's a little fish merrily finning in the ocean.

To more dive trips, girl. Run pre-dive checks rigorously. Dive safe. 

Around the Island

So happy that we just saw P and K in Seattle and now again in the new year when they were on a stopover in Singapore. Like us, they love the takeouts from Kedai Makan. On this trip, they wanted to try some local flavors to compare the interpretations dished out by Kedai Makan. We assured them it was close and super satisfying. Really! Our friends love food, do well with peppers and spices and totally enjoy food trails. This is the best time of the year to be outdoors, never mind the humidity. When we're dressed for it, it can be quite a pleasure to feel the perspiration run down the neck.

We weren't surprised when they asked to visit housing estates in Singapore. After all, the city's slick sights could just be another city's slick sights. They did ask if we were a fishing village before the founding fathers took over and made the city boom this way. Had to roll my eyes and remind them that 18th century Singapore was not exactly the boondocks of the Far East. The British colonial overlords turned it into a rather profitable hub for entrepôt trade. By the time founding fathers took over in 1965, we were already quite sophisticated. P and K had two full days in town. We started with Tiong Bahru. Hahahaha. Of course lah. Hipster neighborhood wat. After P and K were done with their morning at Gardens by the Bay and Botanic Gardens, we ate up a storm at Tiong Bahru Market, took a ton of photos and walked around. Stopped for coffee too, naturally, at Nylon. 

Then we moved on to Woodlands and Toa Payoh. We set them on their own along the train lines to Bishan and Punggol. :P It's easy to get around. P and K have top-notch navigational skills, estates' maps and points of interests, and two phones with local data on 4G. They managed to sort out a happy dinner at the local kopitiam. They sent us photos of many dishes attempted, and actually polished off. I think they had a swell time.

Immortality Reinterpreted

Blurb stated "a gleeful and exhilarating tale of global conspiracy, complex code-breaking, high-tech data visualization, young love, rollicking adventure, and the secret to eternal life - mostly set in a hole-in-the-wall San Francisco bookstore". OKAY. Done. My kind of book. It's one of those books that I want to read, but don't want to buy a hard copy and I didn't bother asking to borrow it. When @gimmeamuffin tweeted about it, I was reminded to grab an easily available e-copy- Robin Sloan's first novel, a loosely-defined fantasy titled 'Mr Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore'. (Reviews here, here and here.)

'Mr Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore' is set in present-day start-up tech world of Bay Area where everyone codes, protagonist Clay Jannon is...a web designer fallen on hard times, of course, and found a gig at Mr Penumbra's 24-hour bookstore . He began suspecting that it was a front for something sinister, something to do with a strange book club, later revealed to be called 'Unbroken Spine', of a group of people who have been trying to decipher messages in books for generations via pen and paper. Of this greatest question in life- "How do you live forever?" The idea of a Codex Vitae. Clearly, this is a charming but ridiculous process when these books could be scanned and let the computers take a crack at it for patterns and whatever-else. So here we go, digital age versus physical representations, etc. Grinned. The irony is not lost. I read this in digital format.

Lately, even the Waybacklist borrowers seem to be missing. Have they been seduced by some other book club on the other side of town? Have they all bought Kindles? 

I have one, and I use it most nights. I always imagine the books staring and whispering, Traitor! - but come on, I have a lot of free first chapters to get through. My Kindle is a hand-me-down from my dad, one of the original models, a slanted, asymmetrical plate with a tiny gray screen and a bed of angled keys. It looks like a prop from 2001 : A Space Odyssey. There are newer Kindles with bigger screens and subtler industrial design, but this one is like Penumbra's postcards: so uncool it's cool again.

Clearly stepping into the genre of contemporary fantasy, I was jolted out of the couch and set to googling "Gerritszoon typeface" because it was not a font I've seen in the dropdown bars of laptops or at the printers or the letterpress machines, or the few typography classes taken. LOL. However, the reference to 15th century typographer and editor Aldus Manutius is valid. He worked with assistant and punchcutter Francesco Griffo. Griffo was noted for his italic type. So the book's Griffo Gerritszoon doesn't exist. Eh, this is fiction after all. At the beginning, I almost thought the fantasy series 'The Dragon-Song Chronicles' which Clay Jannon and his childhood bff Neel Shah obsessed over was real.  Chehhh. But what a good story this is. Very enjoyable.

Immediately after, I thumbed through the author's later Kindle single, but a prequel, if you will, 'Ajax Penumbra 1969', which kinda explains how a young Mr Penumbra came be a member of this 24-hour bookstore in the same city of San Francisco in 1969, and eventually a bound member of Unbroken Spine. Interesting enough, but not as cool as the book where they cracked the code.

"They did this because the tomb was empty. When Aldus Manutius died, no body remained." 

So Penumbra's cult has a messiah. 

"He left behind a book he called CODEX VITAE - book of life. The book was encrypted, and Manutius have the key to only one person: his great friend and partner, Griffo Gerritszoon." 

Amendment: his cult has a messiah and a first disciple. But at least the disciple is a designer. That's cool. And codex vitae ... I've heard that before. But Rosemary Lapin said the books on the Waybacklist were codex vitae. I'm confused - ..... 

"We believe that when this secret is finally unlocked, every member of the Unbroken Spine who ever lived ... will live again." 

A messiah, a first disciple, and a rapture. Check, check and double-check. Penumbra is right now, teetering right on the boundary between charmingly weird old guy and disturbingly weird old guy. 

A Little Girl's in Primary One

One of my favorite little tots is now a Primary One student. Ahhh. They grow up so fast. I've seen Lil'Missy, well, as a bump in Y's tummy, as a wailing baby, toddler and now, all grown-up, almost. Y sent photos to tell me how Missy's doing in the first week. Ahhh...she's looking all chirpy still. Hurrah.

My current work schedule also means my time is less flexible. Plenty of intense work trips scheduled too. As it is, I think the office collectively cringe when they see my emails time-stamped 'SENT 6.00 AM' when I'm in town. It's pretty tough to do weekday lunches with the friends now, but 7am or 8am breakfasts and 8pm dinners can be arranged. Drinks (preferably with alcohol) are always welcome. I wouldn't be seeing Lil'Missy till she's all settled in and could hop out for afternoon tea. Prepped a little 'have-a-great-year' gift for the newly minted schoolgirl. Since she recently got into snail mail, cards and letters, I wrote her a short note as well.

Stole time early in the morning to have a coffee with Y while the girl's in school. MUAHAHAHA. It's been months since I last saw her. Needn't have to share our food with a little girl or worry about her being bored. Love Lil'Missy and her companionship, and would always consider her food requests, but it is also very nice to have an uninterrupted adult conversation. It's been too long since I get to have Y all to myself! It was a lovely long chat. Absolutely gleeful about it.

Guksu's Mul Naengmyeon

The man was insistent on having dinner at Guksu Noodle House. All the way to Suntec City Tower Five, adjacent to the Convention Center area. Like, really, I didn't know why we had to have dinner in town in a silly mall. He knew I really really love mul naengmyeon, and it's hard to find a good one in Singapore. I've tried most of them available at the restaurants. Nothing that hits a spot. The man said that his colleagues thought Guksu would be worth a try. And they were right.

I like the concept of Guksu. All noodles. Different kinds of noodles in different broths. Okay, I'm generally not hot about Korean food or its sappy dramas. Don't like kimchi or gochuchang. I have a special dislike of budae jjigae that's bloody unhealthy with just gochuchang for soup stock topped with only spam and instant noodles. What a rip-off. I do like some Korean movies, especially those about serial murderers. :P But Korean noodles aren't too bad. They're tasty! I just don't want them to be like ramen or our local noodles that sit in thick pork-rich broth. I like it light, which explains why I like udon and soba, and mul naengmyeon. Not keen on bibim naengmyeon or hoe naengmyeon because of the gochuchang.

Guksu's version of mul naengmyeon is quite impressive. The dongchimi broth tasted right. The thin slices were beef. Doubt they'll use pheasant in this city. The buckwheat noodles weren't fantastic, especially on the consistency, but it's as good as it gets in Singapore. Really satisfying. It was about S$18 for a set that comes with choices of sides. They make good tiny mandu. Not bothered about trying the rest of its menu. I'd come back for the mul naengmyeon.

Tofu Tacos

The man was so taken with Marination Station's tofu tacos that he wanted to reverse-engineer it. I was all for it. Seeing that there's no way they'd even tell us the recipes, we went back thrice to discern those layers of flavors. Bought a tofu presser and stuffed it into the suitcases. Most fun and useful gadget this quarter. :P It's possible to do this without a tofu presser. We'd just have to use hands, which would look rather silly.

The tofu isn't difficult. Pressed it to obtain the texture we wanted. Could freeze it too to extend bite, but not necessary. The duration of freezing it affects how chewy it could become. Chilling the tofu will do. It simply needs to sit in the marinade in the fridge overnight to get that salty tang. We knew the secret was in the marinade for the tofu and sauces. There's the usual walnut oil, garlic, onions, mirin and ginger. No dashi. It's meant to be vegetarian. Then for the additional squeeze-bottle sauce, there's gochujang, garlic, mayonnaise, and tamari. Don't use shoyu. Tamari contains little or no wheat, i.e gluten-free. Importantly, tamari is thicker and sweeter, not as salty as shoyu. You could add sriracha, but it must be the US version. We actually lugged back a few bottles of the made-in-USA sriracha. The Asian version tastes very different; oddly not as piquant or spicy.

Shredded the cabbage and carrots for the coleslaw. I can make very good coleslaw (which isn't just about the mayonnaise), which is why I'm grouchy when restaurants serve horrible coleslaw. Grabbed packs of corn tortillas. Tofu tacos! They were sufficiently savory. Hurrah! It was much later when I realized what we missed out- sliced jalapeños. Dammit. Didn't taste like Marination Station's, but close. I suspect it's in the composition of sauces. We brought it out to a potluck, and also hosted a small lunch. Our guests didn't seem to mind it. Whewwww. 

Escape Room Games

The birthday girl arranged for us to play an 'Escape Room' game. Not sharing where and what. There're plenty of these Rooms around nowadays with exciting themes. None of us are interested in the props. That's what the Xbox, PS4 and video games are for. It's the riddle-solving and code-cracking we're interested in. I don't do horror houses well because you know...claustrophobia and mild paranoia mean that I'll forget that this is a game. In this case, my instincts always override logic and I tend to whack anything that jumps out at me. The birthday girl scouted around and picked the 'hardest' game this one store offered, without being blindfolded and the assurance that nothing will leap at us.

It was hilarious how all of us combed through the indemnity form, religiously read every line, and signed with disclaimers. Can't help it. Occupational hazard. We zealously read fine print and convoluted sentences. Refused to waive our rights to have photos taken and randomly uploaded in all marketing materials, objected to provide NRIC numbers. We HATE this sort of requests, and especially DISAPPROVE OF local companies for refusing to respect that. Obviously nobody bothered reading our signed indemnity form. At the end, when the staff asked to take a group shot of us, we declined. CRAZY. Why would we permit a photo of us on YOUR PHONE? And you didn't offer to tell us where these photos would go until we asked. On YOUR FACEBOOK PAGE. No friggin way. It's like an endorsement for your Game or whatever, and a location tag to where we were at a given time. CRAZY. Some privacy please. HELLO SINGAPORE AND YOUR NON-EXISTENT PRIVACY LAWS.

Anyway. No one has been to this particular Room. It was pretty challenging. Out of the allotted 60 minutes, we spent a good 30 minutes bumping around, doing nothing productive, save for knowing that we must get the codes to open the locked drawers and cabinets. We obediently placed all cellphones into the locker. All we needed was pen and paper. The staff reminded us not to physically smash anything in the Room. At the end, the staff came in all flummoxed. He said we were the first team to have skipped every other step, yet broke the codes to all the locks in a non-sequential manner, found a laptop, solved the password to enter it (which wasn't that tough), and even cracked the magic combination to the dial-lock safe without the aid of clues (don't ask how we did this), and successfully retrieved the final document and the key-card to tap out of the locked room, effectively cleared the game with three minutes to spare. LOL.

Zipped to Brewerkz for a 'post-mortem'. AAR! An after-action-review. Heh. We're nerdy like that. Dissected the process. You see, we should have cracked the puzzles in 40 minutes instead of taking up the full hour because we weren't all thinking straight or in full work mode on a weekend. :P Puzzle-solving. Isn't this what we do best, and especially so as a team? This team rocks. Oof.

Trader Joe's Fig Butter

Didn't announce to friends that I wouldn't be around year-end of 2014, except to those I visited. Otherwise dear Fern could have spent less on postage and prepped the gift box as domestic mail!

Had arranged for mail and stuff forwarded to me in the US. Fern told me the contents of the box, and after having photos sent over, I decided to ask for only her card which I wanted to read asap. The box's contents stayed quietly at home because I wanted to savor them and have them last as long as possible in Singapore .

Love the contents. Trader Joe's goodies! That is one store that I could wander around in for hours, wanting to buy everything and probably coming out with only three items. During the week in Los Angeles, I kept popping into Trader Joe's to buy stuff to take to the friends' makan sessions or whatever, but I didn't buy anything to pack in the suitcases home. Whatever Fern picked out in this gift box were great. Oils for salads. Crisps of fig and olive, and raisin rosemary.

There's a jar of Trader Joe's signature fig butter too, one that I really quite like! The thick sort of fruit butter. Or jam, if you prefer. Apparently an 11-oz jar holds 11-12 figs. That's generous! I've stocked up a few bottles and am down to two final jars. Am so thrilled to receive another. Hehehe. Between the man and I, we finish about two jars a year. I've a soft spot for fig butter or jam with savory items- pâté or cheese, hummus or tapenade, fruit and nuts. So appetizing.

One afternoon working from home, when there was a ton not-happy-corporate-matters to be handled, I didn't feel like a large lunch. Bites would be nice. Popped open the fig butter and opened up the fig and olive crisps. There was a precious bottle of the Aunts' homemade crab pâté to go with the crisps and butter. YUM YUM. The lunch board put me in a much more amiable mood to quickly breeze through the rest of a productive work day.

The Strange Library :: ふしぎな図書館

No thanks to the man and the friends, I'm doomed to have to read all of Haruki Murakami's books so that I could argue with them about it. It's no fun arguing debating when I don't have the content.

So another one it is- 'The Strange Library' (ふしぎな図書館). It's written and first published in 2008 and now translated by Ted Goossen. As much as this is about the story and the writing, it's also about the illustrations. Long-time collaborator on graphics, Chip Kidd illustrated the American edition. I prefer the Japanese edition illustrated by Maki Sasaki. It's, how should I put it, more cute-sy compared to the American illustrations which play loads on surrealistic images in the style of pop-art and posters. (Reviews here, here, here and here.)

A schoolboy who stopped by the library on his way home from school, and asked to read about the Ottoman empire's system of tax collection. Unsurprisingly, that begins the adventure where he got imprisoned by a weird old man, cared for by another old man who wears a coat of sheepkin, and a strange young girl who only he seems to see, and who sends him food. He's supposed to finish all those books about tax collection, memorize them and then get his brains which would have been full of knowledge to be sucked out by the weird old man because fact-filled "brains packed with knowledge are yummy. They're nice and creamy. And sort of grainy at the same time."

I finished the English book quickly. Read it a second time because it felt so different reading it in Japanese. This English version, felt unbelievably lame. Could it be the illustrations in this English version that threw me off? While the use of language in the Japanese version is still strange, the translation to English puts me off. This is exactly why I dislike Murakami's stories translated. I don't fancy him very much in the first place, but in English, I find his books rather unreadable. Not the surreal bits, but the unfinished details. It's a dark little thrilling tale of fantasy; the illustrations in the English version don't enhance the quiet horror. It's disappointing, to say the least. This is going to be good fodder for the arguments debates with the friends. Can't wait to do so! *rubs hands in glee*

After that, I never visited the city library again. I knew I should seek out one of the big shots who ran the place to explain what had happened to me, and to tell him about the cell-like room hidden deep in the basement. Otherwise, another child might have to endure the awful experience that I went through. Nevertheless, the mere sight of the library building at dusk was enough to stop me in my tracks. 

I do occasionally think about the new leather shoes I left behind in the basement, though. That leads me to memories of the sheep man and the beautiful voiceless girl. Did they really exist? How much of what I remember really happened? To be honest, I can't be certain. All I know for sure is that I lost my shoes and my pet starling. 

My mother died last Tuesday. She had been suffering from a mysterious illness, and that morning she quietly slipped away. There was a simple funeral, and now I am totally alone. No mother. No pet starling. No sheep man. No girl. I lie here by myself in the dark at two o'clock in the morning and think about that cell in the library basement. About how it feels to be alone, and the depth of the darkness surrounding me. Darkness as pitch black as the night of the new moon.

Averaging 26°C

After the rain.

This is such beautiful weather in Singapore. Probably my favorite of the whole year. In the evenings, it's quite pleasant to sit outdoors. Slightly lower temperatures with a ton of rain. The rain can be inconvenient since our type of rain involves being thoroughly soaked in five seconds. I'll take the rain pelting down over friggin hot sun anytime. I don't care for the threat of drought like what happened last February and March. As it is, the blazing sun comes out every now and then to remind me to treasure the cooler temperatures that are rising soon. Nice weather won't last forever.

The first week of the new year has ended on a pensive note. Tied up loose ends for a couple of work matters- kicked tea totally out of my life, chased for a couple of overdue payments for a couple of projects, sorted out new schedules. And began a brand new major project that will take me all the way to April. It pays well, and has already provided fair allowances for preliminary meetings even before I sweep into the offices with a new broom to terrorize the hell out of everyone. This project is going to make me worse than I already am- more cynical and harder. *shrug* Not a bad thing. At the very least, I'm bloody efficient. I don't exist to please people nor pander to anyone's ideals.

At its most intense, the rain puts a white sheet over every building and sight. Visibility is nought. That's when I love to stare out into the horizon, especially when I'm home. I clear the mind and simply take in the sound of the storm. An opaque panel of water shrouds the horizon for a few minutes before letting up to a misty grey. Heavy rain during the day makes everything seem softer and more magical. 

Colorful Cards

Many greeting cards forwarded mid-December when I was in the US. Such festive fun. I love paper, and to send and receive snail mail. There were the e-cards that weren't just cards because those take just as much effort in terms of the emails being crafted into photo collages or a digital capture of a hand-doodled/drawn image. E-cards were accompanied by the sweetest long emails that I've archived in a folder titled 'Cherished'.

Then, there was a pile of greetings cards which weren't forwarded. It was lovely to come home and see them waiting on the desk. Intentionally left unopened till much later. It's very nice to read Christmas and year-end greetings from friends and acquaintances during the first week of the new year. I keep these cards for a few years. So precious. I always want to throw them away while de-cluttering, but can't bear to. In the end, most cards stay and go into little storage boxes. Many are also periodically snipped into half to be used as bookmarks. :)

Thank you for all the wishes. They're much appreciated.

The After After Parties

No party is complete without a shot like this. Especially of single malts.
(Photo courtesy of S)

The best part about coming home after a long trip, the post-Christmas-parties are in full swing. Also the after-parties of New Year festivities. What's up with after-parties this season? It's like the de rigeur thing for all hip homes. Except for ours. We're too stretched to host. However, we could easily cook food as gifts or contribute to whichever potluck session. The dishwasher, stove and oven are in overdrive. Not complaining at all. We ees happy as a lark.

The dear friends opened up their homes and hearts. Dunno how they rustled up so much energy to cook, host and keep everyone in a food coma, and insist people grab boxes of more-than-generous leftovers to take home to sort out the next week's meals when everyone's busy settling into a new year, and for many, new hectic routines to get used to.

The food was nothing short of splendid. Truly the best of home cooking in a superb mix of classic Christmas dishes and everyday-local favorites, including coconut dhal and devil's curry, and desserts of kueh lapis, sugee cake, red bean agar-agar, apple crumble, apple pie, and a surprisingly popular durian tiramisu. We shamelessly turned up at the friends' beautiful homes, ate and drank our fill. Many thanks, people. What a fantastic start to the year.

A Thousand What Ifs

Went book shopping with the BFF. I had to resist all urges to buy everything interesting. There's still that never-diminishing pile of unread books at home. Plus I did buy a few titles from Barnes and Noble in the US. The BFF went off on her dive trip accompanied by Randall Munroe's 'What If'. (Reviews here, here and here.)

We're huge fans of xkcd. I want it too! But she called dibs. It'd rather silly to buy another hard copy. Since I won't see her till late January, an e-copy was bought. Kekekeke. Will steal her copy to flip through later. Clearly, this sort of book isn't good for someone with my kind of tendencies. Like sleeping in jeans if I don't feel secure enough in a hotel room. I love logistics because I don't just consider Plan B or C. I go all the way to H. So this book probably fans all paranoia. Hahahaha.

It's full of acience and fun. Questions are fairly cool and sometimes silly. The answers are hilarious and serious. Heh. There are Questions about "How much physical space does the Internet take up?", "What if you strapped C4 to a boomerang? Could this be an effective weapon, or would it be as stupid as it sounds?", "What temperature would a chainsaw (or other cutting implement) need to be at to instantly cauterize any injuries inflicted with it?", "How much Force power can Yoda output?", etc. Each Question or two makes a chapter. What an absolutely fun read that I didn't have to finish in one sitting and could just flip it in between completing other books.

On the chapter titled 'Spent Fuel Pool', Jonathan Bastien-Filiatrault asks, "What if I took a swim in a typical spent nuclear fuel pool? Would I need to dive to actually experience a fatal amount of radiation? How long could I stay safely at the surface?" Apparently, it's okay to swim around a pool but not dive to the bottom or pick up anything. Love how the chapter ended in typical xkcd style.

But just to be sure, I got in touch with a friend of mine who works at a research reactor, and asked him what he thought would happen to someone who tried to swim in their radiation containment pool. 

"In our reactor?" He thought about it for a moment. "You'd die pretty quickly, before reaching the water, from gunshot wounds."

Using The Spices

First thing we did upon return to humidity was to pull on shorts and slippers, then zipped out to Tekka Market to buy ingredients for some cooking. The man had a craving for goat curry Caribbean style. I wanted pilaf and dhal. We miss spices and the taste of food from our pots. Hahaha. But we haven't had much time to cook, much less host the friends. 2014 has been crazy, 2015 doesn't look less busy. But towards year-end, the new year, and over the festive seasons, we try to find some time to turn on the stove and oven, for nothing else but prepare food as gifts for the friends.

We don't have a pot to cook pilaf or biryani. The rice cooker works all right for now. Stocked up on India Gate basmati rice. Love this brand. The rice always comes out right even in the rice cooker. On any given day, our fridge holds sambal-something and also dhal. Instead of the usual, the man decided to boil up dhal makhani, something heavier and a bit spicier. We did try to lessen the amount of butter that went into the pan. Hahahah. But whatever. Butter rocks.

Minimal prep for this meal. By that I mean we don't have to start cooking from two nights before the meal. Only needed to do the prep work of soaking the kidney beans and sabut urad for a few hours, and let the goat meat sit in marinade overnight. Then we fried up things here and there and the meal was ready. Had to be careful not to break up the Scotch bonnet peppers in the pot. Scooped them out and mashed them separately. Could always add it in for people who desire it super-spicy. Scotch bonnet peppers are quite something. Portions of goat curry, dhal and rice went into boxes as gifts for the friends, and there were still plenty of leftovers to freeze for the next week.

The man's got these recipes down pat. Not that he comes up with his own. He simply scans the recipes online and usually takes points from across the board. He doesn't bother remembering them either. Just google them the next round. He never quite does one item the same way again. Dinner was absolutely satisfying. Our type of comfort food. The rare times I eat so much rice. Tasty.

Ori Beenut Butter

The man loves peanut butter. In fact, he's crazy over it. He has probably tried all available brands out there in Singapore supermarkets, Trader Joe's and Whole Foods, and many bottles from indie bakeries in Seattle and Los Angeles. But he's only just getting to know independent jam makers in Singapore and tasting their produce.

Our dear friends cleverly went onto Batch.sg and bought us a truckload of stuff. Among them, was an innocent jar of peanut butter from Second Helpings, coolly named 'Ori Beenut Butter'. The man went nuts over it. Quite literally.

I'm not really a peanut butter person. I'll take some, but it has to somehow match my odd tastebuds. So it's a rare instance that I find a jar I like. It has to taste properly creamy yet strongly nutty and a touch salty. It can't be sweet either. Yum, I'm a creamy peanut butter person, not chunky. Making it sounds like too much effort. And by golly, this Ori Beenut Butter is bloody awesome. It's not that big a jar. 6.4oz. It's enough though. So satisfying. We finished it in 48 hours.

2015. Hey.

In watercolor painted by Arounna Khounnoraj of bookhou.
Thoughtfully gifted by Y.

While I was sleeping, 10 emails about work streamed in. Wow, all these hardworking people. Here we are. Another year begins in full swing.

I've no idea how this year will pan out. Never viewed life in milestones except for the academic ones. Those were eagerly anticipated because it meant a step closer to legal freedom and independence. Everything else after that is simply secondary and I've never given a damn about anyone's expectations. Sure, tell me. I might consider it for a day or two. Whether I choose to meet those expectations, aren't a given. This is a certain sort of petulance that I simply refuse to acquiesce. At least I've learnt not to vehemently vocalize it.

Time, personal-progress and life are lumped as a lateral movement. Not linear. There're things I view important in my life that shouldn't matter to anyone else. As long as I'm happy, which human is to judge? I trust in God's plans for me. As it is with every year, I wing it. This strategy suits me fine. So 2015, bring it.