Saturday, February 28, 2009 | 0 comments  
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My little piece of history.

Over at that seat. Flashing lights, booming beats.
High on the gallery, behind camera fleets.
I've been here before.

Up on the beam. In the bowels of a battleship.
Sweat. Rust. Bitter taste of rope string.

Now here I am. Dressed up. Front, center.
Laughing. Smiling. Perfume in a can.
I've been here before.



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Friday, February 27, 2009 | 0 comments  
The rattle of a closing aperture. The film slows down.
Born again, dancing, in the shoes of a legend.

In this fantasy, you are a reality.

And I never want to leave.




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Sunday, February 22, 2009 | 0 comments  


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Only in the confines of my room can I bring myself to familiar worlds unknown.
I never want to leave.

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Friday, February 20, 2009 | 0 comments  
I was about to clean my room when I found a box that contained this gem.

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See, this is why my room will never be clean. There's so much shit to look at.

I think it's a Lomo camera. I received this as a free gift from... Tampines Mall... sometime in 2001.

I thought it was a bloody toy so I chucked it in a corner.

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The question is... what kind of Lomo camera?

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Ah, film!

I'm going out to buy a roll of 400ISO film to test this thing out. Will post the results over the weekend.
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Wednesday, February 18, 2009 | 0 comments  
I've received quite an unexpected response to "Jayden 21". I'd like to thank all who watched it (whether or not you liked it...) and it's given me quite a much needed push to experiment more with film.

Granted, it's NOT the best shot or best colored or best edited or best visual effects (I think it was overdone) but there seems to be something right going on in there. I have a feeling it's got something to do with why I was a fail-person in Poly. There were 'rules' to follow that were supposedly 'right' and most of the time should guarantee a kick-ass product. Yes, that's what I said. Product.

This time round I did this video with nothing but the feeling I had after reading this blog post and the comment I left after. I had more to say that I couldn't put in words. One thing led to another, and there I was splicing clips together.

I didn't make this for fame, awards, money, or pseudo-anti-authority. I did this because I had a message to say. And that, I think, is where every creative person's work should stem from.


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Sunset at Sembawang.

But enough of that. My still camera sits still in a corner now but the pen is still moving. I'm having a few ideas popping out every now and then. Even the rock and roll tracks have been on hold lately giving way, instead, to piano music. In fact, you can listen to my current playlist here.

But such is the volatility of the mind, and the cruel nature of luck. I have been in a depressed state since an incident that happened a while ago. I'm all smiles in camp but it's been difficult to focus on work and I find myself sleeping my feelings off in camp. I skipped meals and did silly things like swallow half a bag of sugar powder (was for some doughnuts) and cable-tied an orange and threw it down the hill. Once, I even found myself wandering around camp in sandals on my way to the Medical Centre. But I stopped to walk on top of the hill and look across the sky.

I guess it's that feeling where you want nobody around you... but when you close your eyes you want somebody to be there with you. That makes no fucking sense, I know.

The recent approval on the video has somewhat lifted this feeling off my chest. There wasn't a dense blue mist anymore. The sun was brighter and the air was light. But a big part of me is scrambling up to pull back that feeling of dread. I guess when you spend so much time in hell, you start loving it. Isn't that why some ex-prisoners commit crimes just to get back in?

There's comfort I find drowning in this ocean. When the numbness sets in and your ears deafened by the thudding of your heart, you release the few bubbles of life and you see them float to the twinkling sun. It's that moment of inner peace and tranquility. If only I could live in that moment forever, with death a beat away.

I'm feeling better now, but I don't think I'm quite happy with that. I can't hold my pen much longer.
This is the first video I've put together after a two-year hiatus.

In writing, I hide the true meaning of my words with awkward metaphors and subtle hints. This film tries to replicate that through its rhythm, shot selection and style. My strength has never been in creating fanciful flashy designs.



This one's dedicated to our very good friend. Take one for the road.
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Saturday, February 14, 2009 | 0 comments  
Here's what I'm working on at the moment.

Time for a break. Heading to town.

Oh, yeah...

Happy Singles Appreciation Day, everybody!
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Wednesday, February 11, 2009 | 0 comments  
I sit on the stage with posters of me laid in the dozens of rolls. A person walks up and I stand up to shake her hand. A picture is taken and I smile. A signature is drawn and the next one comes. Repeat.

I've led quite a life to sit on this stage, high above the heads of the people, but never too high for cameras pointing down at me from the balcony. I've made music that made fathers cry and children dream. I've written books that inspire and change a person with mere written words. I'd left my gun in the ground in exchange for security found in a pen. I've touched the lives of the people around me with seemingly mundane actions like a conversation or a single picture taken at the right time to forever cement that special moment of their lives for the rest of time. The very words I speak have been delicately plucked from my library of life experience.

To some, I am everything. I have all the money and fame anyone could every enjoy.

A little girl walks up. She's young and impressionable. I stand up to shake her hand and I could see she's overcome with fear and anxiousness. Yet, she yelps in excitement at our meet. I sign another poster, unrolled without much thought from the stack, and take a photo with this girl. I thank her for coming to the event and shake her hand. She is moved to tears. I am like a god.

"Oh..." she shyly covers her little tender lips. "... is there anything you cannot do?"

I thought of that that question and I smiled. My posters hang all over the building, gently waving with every gust of wind.

"That's a very good question," I said. "I'll have to think that through. And I'll answer it in my next publishing. I'd love to know the name of this beautiful girl who presented me with this question."

Lisa, was her name. And I wrote it down on paper. I kept it in my breast pocket and patted it to assure her. A nod goodbye and I turned to the next person. What a humbling question.

Is it possible for a man to still be unhappy with himself even though he's done so much good and lived such a rich life?

Is there, really, nothing else I could do at this point of time, with all my wealth and satisfaction? If yes, then, I ask, wouldn't it be better to live in a ball, with no perception of the world outside. Surrounded in a lie of blindness to the senses with nothing to compare anything to.

Wouldn't everybody be happy, that way? After all, isn't this how most of us live our lives? In our little ball created by ourselves. What we cannot relate to from our experiences in life, we shun away. What isn't in our knowledge, is impossible.

A man who has seen death everyday will think nothing of it than a man who stares at it for the first time. A man caught up in the machine sees nothing else than the perfect machine, even if it's obsolete.

Is our bubble too big? Is our bubble too small?

Is this man happy because he dreamed of little in life, or is this man unhappy because he dreamed of too much? This man believes there is no such thing as the color blue because where he comes from, his family, his underground home, there is no such thing, and it's absurd to think there might be a color in this spectrum of light. In fact, questioning this itself grants you a ticket to the noose.

Have faith, we have it all covered, they say.

How would you answer Lisa's question?
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It seems there's very little I find amusing in the material world. While others gawk at my camera, or the colorful things I produce, my reaction isn't similar but, rather, the opposite. Sadness. For the few things I feel I should be commended upon lays right in front of them but is unseen.

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This camera, this guitar, these videos are nothing more but an extension of a busy convulsive mind that's raging in silence yearning to be heard across the world. Can anyone ever look at these child-like photos and say there's a reason I took this, without all its aesthetic rape?

Is this, really, a matter of perception? That my countrymen are mostly superficial idiots attracted to pretty colors, flash and bang, and casual intercourse and see nothing beyond that? Can this be extended to the rest of the world's current population?

Or is it, really, that my countrymen are highly intellectual and that they see no need to the let the world know of their musings? The things in their head, they keep to themselves, and no need to be the village savior?

In effect, this makes me the superficial idiot, doesn't it?
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Friday, February 06, 2009 | 0 comments  
Firstly, congrats to Brennan for getting a mention on The Straits Times paper yesterday. Now everybody knows you SMS to Plurk.

I've been using Twitter for a while now, and more recently, Plurk. They're great platforms for micro-blogging. If you haven't seen them, they're on the sidebar to the right of this page. Then I have to wonder how you could even miss that.

I tend to use them when I have a little quip to say that doesn't justify a new blog post. My preference is Plurk, for its rather colorful and friendly way of communicating. I like the prefix that you could choose from like, "Audi is, Audi has, Audi loves...". It helps when you're having a little writer's block. Oh, and it has a privacy function so you could bitch about things and only your Plurk friends could see it.

Otherwise... I'd use Twitter via its SMS service when I have a random quote or a brain fart while in the MRT and there's no Internet nearby.

What I don't really like, though, is the character limit. But that's fine... there's a saying, "Keep it simple, stupid.", or K.I.S.S. when you're writing. It's trimming the fat so people won't get lost in words.

I leave here now with two quips I wrote today but went over the character limit.
  • "If i were to die of lung cancer, it would be less the fault of smoking and more of me spending a good part of NS gulping air from truck exhausts." - Written while I was on duty.
  • "I think the best gift to receive is one that couldn't be preserved. Like a conversation... Or a serenade. Sweet memories are eternal. Or is this just an ideal?" - I thought of this after wishing Justin well on turning 22 today. I was questioning myself why I don't buy presents for people.
And now, excuse me while I head over to town. Have a great weekend!
Here's to another great year ahead!

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TWENTY-ONE!

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I am a Singaporean adult.

These are my rights.
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I've had a relatively good run with my Canon 450D.

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Celebration!

But I guess it's time I put it down.

January alone has been a major snap-fest and I've snapped up about 14GB of photos. I'm afraid of reaching an artistic and creative plateau, which it seems that I have for the past weeks.

This period of, say, two weeks (or a month), would be a good time for me to get other things back on track in my life. To explore new ideas and meet new people. Hopefully, I'd return with a different perspective.


I might even start editing videos instead.
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Sunday, February 01, 2009 | 0 comments  
The gates are open and the green open field awaits me. Like an outsider, I watch and see. My words cannot describe but I'm seeing it all.

Thanks, man.

Yeah, ok... I bet you were expecting pictures. Not this twaddle.



Edit: Okay. I felt quite bad after that. So here's a picture.

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Or a ton of them.
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