about songwriting.

You see, my roomie is a dude who likes to write music. And he happens to be rather good at it. Because he does not shower a lot, let's call him Mr. Bum.

Well, Mr. Bum is a whiz at making music. In his hey-days, he can write up to 4 songs a day. Sometimes, he even lets me sing them. But even though Mr. Bum writes plenty of songs, he has left his performing days behind in high school. My other roomie, Miss Nose is another whiz at writing, and she often becomes Mr. Bum's lyricist.

Now, as you know, I also love to write. And I love music just as much. I've written poems before, but lyrics, not really. I tried asking Mr. Bum to put music into my poetry but he stubbornly declined, citing; 'You can play guitar so do it yourself'. He also added, 'And since you're planning to buy a ukulele, prove how bad you want it by making at least one song on my guitar'. And yes, he's right, I am currently obsessed with buying a ukulele. I even have a name ready for it - Waikiki. I want a Lanikai LU-21 soprano ukulele to hold and cherish for my own till death do us part, godammit! But that's another story.

I know what Mr. Bum is trying to do. He's trying to get me off my lazy ass and start being creative! That's a good thing, I suppose, even though he's being utterly obnoxious about it. The problem is, I think I suck at making music. The lyrics I can do, but the music.. It'll take me days. Years. Centuries. I might pass these on to my grandchildren, and I don't think even they can fulfill this mighty task! I'll never have a ukulele! .. Okay, I'm exaggerating.

So I started writing yesterday, and came up with lyrics for two songs. It's a bit different to my usual writings, but I showed it to Miss Nose, and she had nodded approvingly. Unfortunately, I have not finished the music. It's like, only 5% done. And I don't think I'm that happy with it. My guitar skills is extremely amateurish and exceedingly craptastic, I think. But I'm trying, and it's strange how I'm actually enjoying this process...

Here's a preview of the song lyrics I wrote:

You've said and often mentioned of journeying to the moon
Well, isn't she a Goddess, your fairytale in bloom
I thought that I'm the dreamer here, and you're the realist
But now I see the table's turned, and I'm the pessimist

And,

Everyday is a waking hour
With them, you'll stick like petals on a flower
And you'll get kicked for being sour
Because there'll be no comrades like them
No, you'll never find people like them

Each song is titled Congratulations and Miss Nose and Mr. Bum respectively. (Yes, I'm making a song about my roomies, it's a cheap attempt to woo them into buying me a ukulele)

So for the next week, in my free time, you'll probably see me strumming the guitar and tapping musical chords into my notebook, or in front of the laptop, recording and singing and mish-mashing whatever sound I can find on GarageBand. Note that I will be quite anti-social and may bite at the slightest poke. Facebook pokes included. Yeah? Yeah.

Wish me luck!

because my brain is melting and i needed something stupid to pass the time.

What is your current obsession?

Pfft don't wanna jinx it! :P

What is your weirdest obsession?

See question above.

What are you wearing today?

The usual.

What’s for dinner today?

I don't know. Surprise me.

Why is today special?

Because I am alive.

What would you like to learn to do?

To stitch and sew, to play the ukulele, to speak English in multiple accents, to be cunning like a fox.

What’s the last thing you bought?

Food for the house.

What are you listening to right now?

The Feelies.

What is your favorite weather?

Just the right amount of shade and sun.

What is your most challenging goal right now?

Refer to the first question above!

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?

Definitely in NYC. And make that house a penthouse, please.

What would you like to have in your hands right now?

Tickets to Steve Aoki & Shitdisco. Heh.

What would you like to get rid of?

My el stupido-ness.

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?

Bandung. What, only an hour? :(

Which language do you want to learn?

Japanese, Latin, Irish Gaelic.

What do you look for in a friend?

Loyalty.

Who do you want to meet in person?

Andrew Vanwyngarden. Because he's hot and I'm totally superficial like that.

What’s your favorite type of music?

Rock & roll baby!

What’s the favorite piece of clothing in your own closet?

My black skinnies. They're so versatile, even with holes in all the unwanted places.

What is your dream job?

Freelance writer/scriptwriter.

Any favorite models?

Eh. Nah.

If you had £100 now what would you spend it on?

A plane ticket home. Then spend the rest on clothes.

Favorite designer?

Don't have any.

Fashion pet peeve?

The combination of giggly teenager, tie-dye, and blackberry with multi-coloured condoms.

Do you admire anyone’s style?

My auntie PeePee, haha. But we dress quite differently.

Describe your personal style.

If Kurt Cobain and the entire 80s decade had a lovechild, that would probably be me.

questions under the influence.

Just yesterday, I was blogwalking and I couldn't help but notice how a lot of people post memes and questionnaires on their blogs about the '5 bands to see before you die', '25 things about me', '10 reasons why I think I'm amazing' etc etc. It's the exact same thing on Facebook with all those quiz applications and chain notes that seem to go on and on and on.

I, myself, am already guilty of some. I already did the '10/16 things about me' on Facebook and added in the 25s somewhere in this blog. Not to mention that evil little application called LivingSocial where you can pick out your top fives of everything and anything. Top five desserts, top five stars to have babies with... And such. My favourite was the Five People I'd Like To Throw Off a Cliff, in which I included Mr Bean in and drew protests from quite a lot of people.

Here's a top five question they should add in: Five famous people to discuss the universe with.

Well, for me there's Gandhi, John Lennon, the Dalai Lama and uh...

Pause.

Let me think about the last two.

You see, as simple as these questions might seem, I think some of them aren't really the type that you could just answer off the top of your head. It made me think... Why do we humans take the time to list out things when in fact we take an eternity struggling to choose which goes first and which goes last, which goes in and which goes out, which one is okay to flaunt and which ones should be permanently hidden from public view?

Perhaps we feel obliged to portray some kind of pseudo-image of ourselves in this pseudo-world, because it's in our nature to show the good things and carefully leave the bad ones behind. And to think that there are people who judge others of being 'too ordinary' or 'having the personality of a mannequin' or 'too mainstream', based on their tastes in music, clothes, conversation topics, or even on hOw tHeY TyPe.

Are you guilty? I know I am, for some of these things and I'm certainly not proud of it. But sometimes, I too, can't help it. It kicks in like a natural evading instinct, a mean instinct that craps out in the most inappropriate of times.

I guess it's similar to how social cliques are modified by peer pressure, and I just wonder how, when, and from where these pressures originally stem from. Perhaps if you trace it back from the very beginning, it could go back thousands of years. Perhaps it stems from the closest animated living thing us humans have on this planet, the animals. Perhaps it's animal instinct. Perhaps we're really not that different from the pets we own at home. Maybe it's time we go back and have a heart to heart conversation with Rover, see what he thinks about it. Maybe he can help us fill in the last two slots in the list above.

So how does that makes us humans the most perfect creation by The Creator, when there's evidently psychological flaws, and even these flaws differ from one human being to the next? Is having flaws part of being 'perfect'?

Sigh.

Sometimes it's a strain to think up smart answers to mindnumbing questions, and all you want to do is just blend in with the crowd and nod along with the masses. Maybe, I don't know. Sometimes we just give up to the notion that the human mind normally run at a stagnant pace, and we try too hard to keep it running at locomotive speed. We may believe that we're original, but as a whole we're actually pretty mediocre. We still all depend on our faiths, on the laws we obey and the trends we follow. To put it simply, perhaps even we need a break from our own originalities. So we don't have a right to deem others as 'unoriginal', really. Everyone is born on the same level of nakedness, and will die tarnishing the same soil anyway.

Which is why I did those lists. Because today, I'm not a unique and beautiful snowflake. Today, I'm flowing in the same river as you are. Today, I'm turning on the radio and tapping my feet to the rhythm of uh, Lady GaGa.

Maybe that's why they call it 'guilty pleasure'. The pleasure's natural. It's the will to be different that's making it feel all wrong, when it's probably not so.

I don't know, just my two cents. Now pass me back that spliff.

yankee doodle.

I'm flustered
I'm passive

I'm doing handstands in my head

Yes, take a good look at me
Five seconds, now look away

Are you looking away?
Are you seeing the other way?
I can't tell

I am dreamlike
In a stance

Is that you calling me?
Is that my name ringing in my ear?
I can't tell

Don't touch me
Leave me be

Let me dive in your money
Let me lounge beneath your pool

This time, is my time

Maybe next time
I'll see the rare shade in you
Maybe next time
I'll get a glimpse of that colour in blue

But this time
Oh, I've failed you this time

I've crossed the ten centimeters gap beyond the line

Yesterday
I cared for you

Today
I am elsewhere

Today
The liquor's gone to my head

Do I look like I care?

---
May '09

for dreamers.

(click to enlarge)

(images taken from Dallas Clayton's The Awesome Book)

A friend once told me, he'd like to be a dreamer. Like me.

Jokingly, I replied that dreamers often go broke at the end of the month and that it's better off to be realistic and working and actually making money. Like him.

His answer was quite simple. "Money isn't everything for me."

And he's right. It shouldn't be. It does pay the bills and puts the food on the table - it's important, that I won't argue.

But don't you think that dreams, nowadays, are expensive?

Don't you think that the bigger your dreams are, the bigger the price it is to pay?

Couldn't we just like, have a healthy balance between the two?

Real happiness should never be priced in currency, I realize that. But I think you've got to have a firm pair of feet planted on the ground if you want to keep your head up in the clouds. Not in this world, not in this lifetime. Not when you have responsibilities for a child, a wife, a parent in the hospital.

Dreams are goals, and they should be big, but they shouldn't take over your life. They shouldn't get to your head and change you when you get your first taste of its success. They should be your engine, your trophy. Not your drug of choice.

I am a dreamer. My head is also up there, constantly in-between, under and over the clouds.

But I also fancy myself as a realist. So that if I fall, I'd know where to land.

a story of mud.

This is, probably, the long-awaited post for the Jamiroquai concert on April 5th, which I seem to have casually mentioned before. It took me almost a month to report because that's just how long it took for the giddyness and the euphoria to wear off. In a word, it was UNBELIEVABLE.

The event is supposed to be the F1 after party, but we never got to see the race itself. Race? What race? Schumaker who? Pfft, we were there to see Jay Kay sing to us live yaww! ...Okay, we arrived fashionably late, that's why we missed the big cars.

The after party area was located a thousand miles away from the parking lot. Seriously, there was a lot walking and catching the bus involved because the place is so damn huge. I think it even has its own zip code.

And the fact that it was raining quite severely didn't help matters either. I kept bumping into people, stabbing them with the tip of my umbrella and stomping on their sandals from behind (which made them all fall) because my glasses were so foggy and wet and I couldn't see where I was going. I was, probably, the serial killer of the hour. Smart people should really invent glasses with wipers. We could call them glipers!

But then the concert. Oh, the concert.

My friends and I were the furthest away from the stage. It was also the muddiest place, but it had the biggest space for jumping and mucking about. I never thought of myself as a shorty, but when I tried to push my way up front, I thought those people in front of me were huge. A lot of foreigners, I noticed. And people with dreadlocks, whose locks were just inches away from taking my eyes out every time they headbanged to the music.

After two magnificent acts - Maliq and d'Essentials and Naturally Seven - Jamiroquai finally came out and quickly opened with Cosmic Girl. If their performance could be described as a natural element, that element would be water. Crystal clear. Seriously. It's like putting on a CD with surround sound stereo, just painstakingly perfect.



I've lost count how many songs they performed that night, but my personal favourites had to be their performances of Love Foolosophy and Deeper Underground, which they picked for a rockin' encore. People were jumping, people were screaming, lights were flashing, there was this dude who waved an enormous Union Jack flag, and our shoes all wore the same colour of mud. It was messy, it was dirty, it was nothing like their concert in Jakarta where people showed up wearing dresses and smelling like roses. Our feet itched for weeks after spending hours dancing in the bog.

But that, is what I call a concert.

As for the month of May, I'm really looking forward for Ratatat and that giant U.O.X Play showcase with Steve Aoki and Shitdisco! I just hope my wallet can survive everything until the end of the month. Woot woot.