After all this time, I've forgotten how to use this blog composing part. All those fanciful fonts and jazz. So to hell with it.

It's the 28th of March today, around 0137 hrs. and I'm at my usual place, under the block across the coffee shop. Using my brand new laptop I got 2 weeks back. Tell you more about why and how I got it later. I will however tell you why I'm always here.

There aren't many places a person like myself can find solace of solitude around this estate, let alone this country. So, here, around my neighbourhood is one of a few places I feel I can just sit down, read the 'evening' newspapers and then contemplate about the day gone by. Also I'd then catch up on the online news, which always fascinates me. Also this is where I'd enjoy my usual beer and smokes, as I don't do so at home.

But more than anything, this is where I feel closer to Gizmo and Chuee. For this is where I have the company of about 6 neighbourhood cats! I've made it a point to feed them, as they come and go, every night. They sit with me now, around me, on my table even sometimes. They are familiar with my voice, my presence, even from across the road. They'd see me from a distance and I guess from their acute sense of sight, they'd start meowing really loud. And as I walk past them, saying hello to them, they'd all start following me to my favourite seat. I do feel like the Piped Piper sometimes.

Oh wait, let me go feed mummy cat.

And this is where I write.

It's nice to feel that I'm back doing what I feel I do best, writing. Yes it's been a long time. 

The New Paper journalist Misfires

In The New Paper ( 23 September 2009 ), an article was written by a Sylvia Toh Paik Choo. Read article here . 

 

In that article she wrote about Lewis Hamilton and his visit to The Paragon last night. She mentioned how differently Lewis behaved compared to last year when , she wrote, "his stop at Ngee Ann City boutique for some clothing line had all the trappings of a little emperor's arrival."  

She also wrote, "he was 'securitised' every step of the way and no one could get close to get a question in, never mind photographs and autographs." I promptly e-mailed her and told her that she had made a mistake. That he wasn't like that at all. I even advised her to seek the clarifications of her colleague, Mr Lim Han Meng, who interviewed me about my meeting with Lewis. Below is what I wrote to her;

  ...................................................................................................................................... Hello Ms Sylvia. I read your article in the New Paper today about Lewis Hamilton and I couldn't help but write in to you. You mentioned how it was almost impossible to meet up with him, to get photographs or autographs even, last year. I have to disagree with you. You may wish to confer with your colleague, Mr Lim Han Ming, who interviewed me about my fiance's and my chance meeting with Mr Hamilton last year. 

It was during the time that everyone was calling him arrogant and snobbish. The funny thing was, and I didn't mention to you colleague, he was walking with only one other person in the dark back alleys towards his hotel when we met him. We did get his autograph and had a photo with him, which by the way, was his suggestion. Both autograph and photo were published in The New Paper on the 6th of October. 

You may read that article on my blog http://6ix-6ix.blogspot.com/2009/04/lim-han-ming-mon-oct-13-2008the-new.html or on asiaone here http://www.asiaone.com/Motoring/Motorworld/Story/A1Story20081013-93487.html. 

I thank you for reading and I sincerely apologise if I in any way intruded into your time. You can contact me for clarifications at ******** Thank you and God bless. Your humble F1 fan, Dave Khaira.

....................................................................................................................................... 

Below is her reply; 

'Thanks, and good luck!'

................................................................ What a kind reply.  

I need not say more.

Singapore Flyer - Taken For a Ride

Didn't need to pay $15 for this image. I promised myself when they made the Singapore Flyer that I would never get on it. The cost of the tickets were ridiculous. At almost $30 per pop, it was just not worth it and it was obvious it was there to milk the dumb tourists. Then there was the screw up they had last year when the machinery broke down and they didn't have a contingency plan. That almost made me keel over with laughter. The drama that unfolded was taken right out of a Hollywood textbook. Singapore's so called 'preparedness' for National Service at it's full bloom. Imagine being stuck up there in one of those capsules for hours and then the need to answer nature's call. A young pregnant lady couldn't hold it in and had to use her older child's pampers to relieve herself in. So humiliating. And she was not the only one. So, I told myself then again that since the capsules have now also been used as toilets, I've got yet another reason not to get into them. Alas I started to realise that it was indeed unfair for me to criticize the Flyer and slowly I tried to convince myself that I should at least try it, if only once. Being the cheapskate that I am, I found the perfect opportunity yesterday. You can just make out the Marina Bay Grandstand in the foreground. That's where I'll be for this year's F1. And no I didn't pay 15 bucks for this. You see, they are having this promotion where if it's your birth month, you get to ride for free as long as there's 1 paying adult. Something to do with the National day earlier this month. And as you know it was Ling's birthday on the 8th. ( Notice how I held myself back till the very end of the month). I didn't pay 15 moolahs for this also. Let me just put it plainly. It was an absolute waste of time and money. That Flyer is nothing more than an over sized bicycle wheel. Yes the view is ok but that's something I could have had by simply taking the elevator to the top floor of any high rise building in Singapore (and believe you me, we have many of those). And for free! No time limit! As we were about to board, a young chap took a photograph of us and told us that we could view it later after the ride. It's an image of us in a replica capsule. So we did. Aha! Here's the catch. We need to pay $15 or thereabouts for it! $15 for a photo of myself?! WTF! Was the paper the photo was printed on made of gold?! They should throw in the photos for everyone as a souvenir. Especially after people pay that much for the ride itself. Anyhoo another primary reason I took that ride was to get a view, or rather sneak a peek of the preparations for this years F1 race. They have blocked out complete access to the public this year. I'm not surprised after what Ling and I did last year. In fact after the ride, we did head down into the track. But a foreigner on a bicycle came up to us and said that it was a working area. And this as we were just about to walk pass the pit garage as well! I didn't pay 15 kahoonas for this either.

He said we'd be fined if we don't leave. I liked the way he said it though, with his accent. '500 for you. 500 for me.' Meaning he'd be fined too for letting us in. So we all left with laughter.

I understand that some people would be buying tickets to watch the F1 race from the Flyer itself. Suckers. $688 a ticket. Talk about being taken for a spin.

Here's the bottom line. If you've never taken that huge bicycle wheel for a ride yet, don't. For those who plan to, well there's not much dumber things you can do.

There Can Be Only One

Like any hot blooded man, I love my football. The only thing is I don't particularly support any one club. No Manchester United, no Liverpool, no Real Madrid, non of that for me thanks. I find it ridiculous to support such teams when one day a player is playing for you and the very next season he is signed by one of your bitter rivals and playing against you. Even the money that's exchanged between teams to 'buy' players is getting stupid! But there is one team that I truly support. And that is Argentina. OK it's a country but I love their football. Ever since 1978 when I was just beginning to play football with the neighbourhood kids, I started hearing about them from the older boys. (Remember back then it was almost impossible to watch a game 'live' on TV). That was also the year they won their first World Cup. It was only in the next World Cup in 82 that I got to really keep track of the team. Then in 1986 all hell broke loose! Everyone I knew then were glued to their TVs watching every game 'live'. Argentina won their second World Cup with such class that they brought football to an all new level. Diego Armando Maradona was the name on every ones lips. Many adored him, a few despised him. All I know is he is the God that plays football! Yes, Yes. All the England fans out there will talk about the 'Hand of God' incident and call him a cheat. But they also know that in that very game, he made the England team look like a bunch of weekend footballers. And I love rubbing it into them every time I get the chance. So here I go again! He dribbled past half, YES HALF, the England team including the goalkeeper, YES GOALKEEPER EVEN, to score what will probably remain as the best goal in the history of football! Ever! This one goal alone erased the entire 'cheating' thing. Besides the English must really be that stupid to let a short guy like Maradona do that to them. That's their fault, not his. Some other players come to mind. Claudio Cannigia was the player I used to emulate when I was in school. He was one of the fastest footballers in the world. Being a sprinter in my school days, that was the one thing that I shared with him, speed. Sadly that was the only thing I could say I had in common with him. (I wasn't very good in all the other parts of being a footballer. My coach would tell me to get the ball from my goalkeeper and run like mad towards the opponents goal. Then pass the ball to my striker, who'll be waiting up there to score. Then he got all the credit. Crap.) Then there is Gabriel Batistuta, Osvaldo Ardiles, Valdano, Riquelme, Burruchaga, Goycochea, the list goes on and on. Lets not forget the latest sensation. They call him the new Maradona. His name, Lionel Messi. This young man went through bone lengthening operations in his shins when he was barely a teenager. He was told he was too short to be taken as a player seriously. He went through that very painful operation just for football. An operation so painful that it would have made most grown men cry! Today Leo is the greatest talent on the field anywhere. Never mind Pele, yes he was good too. So was Zico, Rummenigge from Germany, Platini and I'm sure a few more come to your mind. But at the end of the day, when the dust has settled and the grass has started to grow on the fields again, we look back and remember only one name. That name is Diego Armando Maradona. Because we know, there can be only one.

My Titanics

Here are 2 model Titanics I made. The smaller one is a 1:600 model (44cm). I built that in 2002. The larger one is a 1:400 (69cm) scale and it was a gift from Ling. She got me that in 2008. Model Kit building is just another one of my many ridiculous hobbies. It took me a fair bit of time to complete, espescially the bigger one, as the painting required more work.

The Fallen Lady

Here's a little something written by Ling. Those that heard of her, Can only envy or hate her. That left many to lust after for her. Even sought changing identities just to be seen with her. For she was the ultimate symbol of majestic glory. Great abundance & Glowed with Lavish beauty. She had it all. Not christened on launching As she have faith in herself than luck. She was set to dance on the stage of the deep blue sea that unpredictable stage for all. She almost collides with another, but only to get away with her arrogance. No one seems to notice her ballet shoes come undone for now she will be in dire straits should she ever fall. She could feel tremendous heat building within her though she sways & glides gracefully against the waves. Just minutes before the grandfather clock could strike the fifth midnight, she paused. She had stomped onto Poseidon's trident despite repeated warnings, her ears fell deaf. Blinded by her self-obsession, believing she can get away, again. After all she has it all. Amused by her arrogance, Poseidon's trident has transformed into an ice dagger. It pierced through her side. And slid down her flesh. She could feel that she was falling apart despite it's being just a cut. Though she still tried to hum a melody to keep her in ease. Once on her right she started to bleed. She could not believe there was nothing that can keep her through. Her extravagant luxuries began to weigh her down. Her ballet shoes are only a burden to her now. Still flickered & glittered in her grandeur, she finally broke apart & collapsed. There is no turning back now. As Poseidon had embraced her fall And claimed her as his bride. In the abyss. Lays her wrecked body. Still dressed with her expensive jewelry. But nothing more than just homes for Poseidon's subordinates, algae & fishes. Who would have thought, her maiden journey would be her last dance to her wretched fame. As Time exchanged hands We still remember her name. She is Titanic.

Jack of all Trades. Master of Some?

I've always been good with my hands (don't get any funny ideas.) Ever since I was a lot younger, I've always enjoyed fixing stuff. I've always enjoyed the complexity of how things work. I remember when I was a child, my dad used to work overseas. He works in the oil industry, so he'd be away for weeks stationed in places like the Middle East or other parts of Northern Asia. I remember how my younger brother and I would miss his presence. Every time he was back home in Singapore, he'd take the whole family out almost every other day. And every time he came back to Singapore , he'd buy us the most amazing toys and presents. My brother used to be crazy about toy guns and such. Me, I liked those built it yourself gizmos. Sometimes, when I got bored with all those toys, I'd find anything else I could take apart just to see the insides. Even if it was my brother's toys. Slowly I got bored of that too. I then found other things to dismantle. I remember taking my moms old radio set and opening it with my mediocre set of tools. Oh yes I also remember the whacking I got from her as well. But she forgave me when I managed to put it together. Later on, a little older, I moved to bigger things. The TV, HiFi set, I even opened the fridge once. I had this dining table then, and I remember making it into my makeshift play house. I would wrap the sides with a big blanket just to make it look enclosed to the outside world. I had a knack for wires and such then, so I rigged the underside with light bulbs and tape. I had an old remote control car that didn't work anymore. I fixed it as best as I could and it was alright for a while. But a few weeks later it died on me. I knew it was gone for good then. So I opened it up as I knew there were a few things in there I'd be able to salvage. I used the little motor in it to rig up a small fan for my playhouse. It worked fine. Slowly, bit by bit, my playhouse got more high tech. Even my neighbourhood friends wanted to hang out in there. That's when I got bored with it. So I took it apart. Besides my mom ' convinced ' me. (The rattan came out lah). Today my family is happy to let me take things apart. Every time something gets broken down in the house, they don't need to call the repairman. They call me. They are happy cos they save money, and I'm happy to get to take it apart. Of course there are times when I can't fix it. Then we call the professionals with the right tools. Or we just buy a replacement. ( I just repaired my moms blender earlier this evening.) Sometimes even my relatives call me over to help them fix something. They don't pay but I demand a hot cup of good chai. ( I mean seriously, what is life without good tea?) I am not a technician by training, but I know I can just about fix almost anything. Don't mean to sound like I'm blowing my own horn, but I am proud of the fact. Being inquisitive has made me understand how things work. And I can therefore apply it to my various hobbies. Whether I'm doing my gardening or fishing or even when I'm cooking, I understand the 'machinery' involved. I do a lot of camping and tracking as well and there are moments when situations become tricky, dangerous even. During times like this, you need to be able to think on your feet, literally. Sometimes you'd have to make things out of whatever is around you or even use what nature provides. These are the times ( and believe me I've had plenty) that I feel thankful to have that little bit extra knowledge that helps me through just one more day.

Me, I'm not Here.

I remember December the 8th 1992 like it happened yesterday. Standing there and waving goodbye to my parents as I boarded the 3 tonner. Really not having a clue to what was in store for me. 2 years and 5 months of absolute hell and a real waste of my time. I was drafted into the army and as luck would have it, I was posted to Pulau Tekong( those days it was not the only Basic Military School but it was known to be the worst). To top it all off, I then ended up in the Infantry unit as a rifleman and then a signaller. Unbelievable! No, do Not get me wrong, I have to be honest here. Some of the most fun and laughter I had was while I was serving my national service. In fact I would probably not change that for anything else. It's just the very idea of them making us do that that pisses me of. Defending the country, my ass. A total of about 15 years later of service and yearly reservist later, I do not feel anymore love for my country now than I did back then. In fact it's had the reverse effect. I do not feel like this is MY country at all. . This country is NOT my home. I don't know where my home country is or if I even have one. But this country is not it. Every year, this government brings more and more foreigners into this country. Mostly people from China. These jokers can't speak a word of English. And yet I am told that I need to learn to speak Mandarin to communicate with them?! Isn't it suppose to be the other way around? I feel like a foreigner in my own country! I am not joking when I say that they are all over the place. Even if you were to go down to the shops and order some food, it is very likely you'd be talking to one of them. And they'd give you that stupid look when they don't know what you ordered. English is our working language and Bahasa Melayu our true national language. Neither works for them. Once upon a time it felt like it was my country. When I started my national service, I actually believed it was. As I bled and sweated and yes I cried as I went through it, I still believed that I was doing it for a larger cause. I thought I was doing it for my home. I thought I was doing it for the children that I saw on the way to camp every week. For the people who went about to their jobs, even maybe the poor bus driver in service No.2 taking me to Hendon Camp that evening... . . . But now I know, this island is nothing more then a hotel and the people who live here, the people for whom I thought I was doing it all for, they do not love me. I wasn't doing it just for my family. I thought my country was suppose to be my family. Now I know. My country, my politicians, my people, do it only for themselves. Today, they don't think of me like I did them. My battered body, my weakened knees is not their concern. So I guess that'll be it then.

It Had To Happen

"Charms in limited supply And refusing to stretch That indefinable nothing Somehow keeps pushing you Finding the right words Can be a problem How many times must it be said There's no plan It had to happen Got to move on sometime And it's about time By putting one foot in front of another And repeating the process Cross over the street You're free to change your mind Strength through diversity" - Martin L. Gore It had to happen. Me messing with a blog. I have actually been wanting to do this for a long time now but I just tend to drag things too long. (Ok lah, no excuse, I just plain lazy). But what the hey, I started today didn't I? Though I still not too sure why. Never mind I just might as I go along. I don't much like writing, it's a hassle I think. I love talking. Just not writing. That"s why I don't SMS. I'm always worried about getting my spelling wrong. So I end up doing spell checks on the messages on the phone. A bit paranoid yeah I know, but there's a story to that as well. You'll find out a little more about that later. I can talk forever ( no lah, not like a nut case lah, talking and talking and nobody listening.) I mean give me some good company, some booze and fags and I'm off yakking. But no don't get me wrong, I can talk about almost anything, but I prefer things logical. Something that keeps my mind thinking. I am a hot blooded male and I"d prefer the opposite sex any day (thank you very much), but that doesn't mean that I don't indulge in my fair share of gossiping (crap lah, all men do lah. they just don't admit cos they think not macho. to them, I say, don't wayang. women can see right through you lah. just shut up and eat the humble pie, ok?). So, like I said, I like good company. My fiancee, she's the best. She speaks her mind and she knows what she's talking about (oklah, sometime she also throw in her two cents worth of bull shit, but hey, who doesn't, right?). I love her for many reasons. One of them is her inquisitive mind. I love the challenging conversations we have and we never get bored. (Well at least I don't. She, I not too sure.) Now, the best person I know, who can really give you a run for your money any day, is my dad. Having a chat with him is like discussing some major world issues with our Minister Mentor. You know the slow, steady, focused way you hear him speak on T.V.? Well, that's what talking to my dad is like. His command of the English language is incredible. Precise and to the point, he can shred the topic to a thousand pieces, just to understand it from the inside out. Then put it all together again to give you a totally remarkable new way of looking it. So, maybe that's what all this blogging is about. Conversing, sometimes even to yourself. Who knows, maybe if I keep this up I 'll see it that way as a fact. But then again, I might just be a nut case after all, just talking to myself when no one else wants to listen.