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I was only joking when I told mum she needn’t watch TV today to get her kicks.
Apart from the online news platforms, there hasn’t been a peep about the Fami-Lee Problems on Channel NewsAsia yet. Instead, they’ve been covering a massive apartment block fire in London — tragic as it is, but not as relevant to this country.
As if the local mainstream media were issued some gag order…
Why do you like DL, my sister asks.
I struggle for an answer, against a tsunami of images, sounds, smells, memories of cigarette smoke and an orange jacket, pacing feet, timelines, dates, emotions, gut drops, shivers, tingling fingers, head and heart aches.
It’s all so maddening, and infuriating not to be able to verbalise or rationalise this.
“It just feels inevitable.” That’s the best I can manage.
I just hope that I’ll be better at this gig.
As per her quarterly quota, once again my paternal grandmother asks me if I was seeing anyone.
She has been feeling under the weather, but her voice noticeably perks up when I tell her I am indeed seeing someone new.
Of course she asks me about him, and as usual asks if he was Henghwa. I tell her that like all my other boyfriends he isn’t Henghwa and that he is in fact Cantonese.
Is he working? What is his occupation?
He works in interior design in Hong Kong, I tell her in Mandarin.
In Hong Kong? Not in Singapore?
No, Mamah. He’s actually a Hongkonger, born and bred.
There is a long pause on the other end of the line.
Jogging behind a trio of Buddhist monks makes me feel like I’m in some training montage in a kungfu movie.
The Lord is testing me.
I mutter as a NSF jogs past me, shirtless, and a police officer with boyish good looks pulls a chair out for me and flashes a smile.
Oy, it’s been four days already hor…
From the archives
Gorillaz recently dropped their fifth studio album, Humanz, on Friday. So I’ve been revisiting their discography and came across this remix of “Kids with Guns” with Jamie T, from their D-Sides album.
If the original was sung by a harassed adult parent taking off his specs and pinching the bridge of his nose while he watches the evening news, then this is “Bohemian Rhapsody” off Ritalin by a pimply Chav teen screaming at his mam, close to tears and his hands balled up into fists.
Really, something like this?
You know, I can totally relate to the girl in that “Something Just Like This” song.
I mean, you want grief, rage, familicide, war, and a ridiculous handicap? Really? Something just like this, 300 fan-boy bro? Whoo, boy, no.
Watched a play called Hand to God, performed by the Singapore Repertory Theatre, last night. Written by Robert Askins, all hell breaks loose when an introverted teenage boy’s sock puppet comes alive. Featuring lots of swearing and human fucking and sock puppet fucking, the R18 black comedy has been described as “Sesame Street meets The Exorcist“, although I would also throw “Sympathy for the Devil” into the mix.
The difference between my best friend and I
The Kym J. Version 