Let’s hope Marie Antoinette will turn out as rock and roll as Wolf Parade’s new video. I love how the camera suddenly goes handheld near the end when the tempo picks up.
Archive for August, 2006
Now I wants me a theremin…
There’s this guy I always see during my thrice-weekly runs along the canal behind my house. I mean, there’re a lot of guys (and ladies) who jog there regularly but this particular guy, Manaf, stands out.
While the rest of us are in reasonably good enough shape to count as joggers, Manaf doesn’t run so much as shuffle, and he’s pretty much the skinniest guy I’ve ever met (think Jack Skellington from Nightmare Before Christmas). He’s there everyday, and one day, it just occurred to me that this guy’s probably has or had some illness but he’s still out there every single day pounding the pavement along with the rest of us.
So I started giving him a little wave and smile everytime we ran/shuffled past each other, and it became a bit of a little routine – we’d pretend not so see each other til we were about 2 metres apart, then we’ll both look up and do our little greeting. Before long, I realised that almost everyone running along the canal daily knows Manaf and has their own particular routine with him.
I always mean to strike up some sort of conversation with him but it’s not that easy when we only acknowledge each other for 2 seconds before we’re on our way again. Doesn’t help also that my iPod’s permanently grafted to my ears when I run.
So anyway… it rained today in the middle of my run and I got stuck under the highway with Manaf for about an hour and a half. Our conversation ranged from running (obviously), our jobs, living in CCK (30 odd years for Manaf), Singapore Idol (he’s not a fan, me neither), Premier League (I had very little to contribute) and my favourite, 70’s metal!
Manaf is the original Mat Rocker, having fronted a band covering the Scorpions and Rainbow in the 70s. Ramli Sarip (of Sweet Charity) and him were neighbours in the same kampung, the village head of which was Ramli Sarip’s father! Manaf told me about the old metal gigs that used to held near the now-demolished Van Cleef Aquarium at Fort Canning and how he used to have a mullet and skintight black jeans.
Of course, this all ended with the government crackdown on all things rock in the 70s. This is sort of a sore topic with me as well, so after awhile we kinda forgot the rain and just lamented our mutual loss… (not to mention Singapore’s)
Eventually the rain let up enough and it got too dark and cold, so we decided to head back. I may not have hit my target distance today, but today turned out to be one of my more interesting runs. Next time I see Manaf, instead of just waving, I’m going to flash him one of these..
Not me, silly.
But lady teacher Trisha, who’s written a post of 10 things she hates about teaching. Here’s a choice quote:
9) I hate it when during my work appraisal, my boss reminds me that teaching is my bread and butter and that I have to do it well, and then merrily gives me ten non-teaching projects to do. Why can’t I just concentrate on my bread and butter?
Not very encouraging for a trainee teacher like yours truly, but I’m pretty glad for the warning.
Courtesy of Heavenly Sword.
is what Michael Bay has done with this reiteration of Megatron for the upcoming Transformers movie.
Old Megs looks like the bastard child of the Witch King from LOTR and an old-school anime tentacle monster, which is actually a bitching concept if you think about it. But they pretty much fucked it up here. At least they’re using Peter Cullen (original voice actor) for Optimus Prime.
Another pic over at I Watch Stuff.
I like. Go here to look at a shitload of concept images and photos for the Transformer movie. For some reason, the Autobots seem truer to form than the Decepticons.
Alistair Meadowlark – a mousy gaijin lawyer who gets posted to Tokyo, experiences extreme culture shock, meets schoolgirl for-sale, stiff upper lip disintegrates, eases into typical asshole angmoh expat mode, schoolgirl leaves him for old rich dude, lawyer goes bloody berserk and wears a chicken costume. It’s mildly amusing, I’ll give it that. The nameless narrator -fellow lawyer who’s gone native – offers a near-emotionless but occasionally wry lens to the goings-on.
Yeah, Gavin Kramer’s Shopping won a couple of awards and so on, but I’m a bit bored by the whole vending-machine-panties-tentacle-porn-fetish angle these angmohs like so much to dredge up the whole time. The whole cautionary, cultureshock angle is really more than a little tired. I love Lost in Translation as much as the next guy, but still.
To Kramer’s credit though, despite the whole Tokyo as sex-den and consumerist heaven, he decides to end with a beautiful closer – the narrator’s Anglophile best friend, once all about tweed jackets and Romantic poetry, now in the countryside building old-style Japanese wooden houses, coming full circle from worshipping the West to preserving his own Nippon heritage. Like a zen koan to round out the Roppongi chaos of the rest of the book. It certainly works, but just came a little too late for me.
My next book will be Ben Bova’s Venus.