She said, hello mister
Pleased to meet ya
I want to hold her,
I want to kiss her,
She smell the daisy,
She smell the daisy,
She drive me crazy,
She drive me crazy

Gonna take her for a ride on a big jet plane
Gonna take her for a ride on a big jet plane
Gonna take her for a ride on a big jet plane

~Big Jet Plane~



I think I'm in love with Angus & Julia Stone all over again

*Rant below: look away quick!!!*

I have no idea if the LTA in Singapore have a special task force assigned to picking out chairs and seating peripherals in MRT or whatnot. Let's just call it the S.Q.U.A.T Team - Seating Quotas Unit And Tactics - where their mission is to select only the most inhospitable butt-proping devices ever known to 4 legged furniture.

Remember City Hall MRT 2 years ago had that stainless-steel aerofoil chair design that allowed NOBODY to sit properly on it without half sliding off the dastardly shiny surface?

LTA got numerous complaints about the seats half a millennia ago but then because any paperwork had to be filed to the superior, checked against the legal constitution, sent to the transport council, checked again, then lost in a pile of paperwork, found, lost again, fed to the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal, reconstituted, and finally approved - we get bum rests as useful as sofas made of talcum powder.

Vogon rituals aside, take a look at the Bras Basah seats.



I loath them.

It's like LTA never learnt from their aerofoil disaster & came back for round 2.

Firstly, these metallic glossy things don't resemble seats at all.
You can see from the picture the floor is grey granite and the walls are smooth chrome. If you've ever went into the Bras Basah MRT station, it looks like morgue. All cold and grey and dead.

I don't blame you if you mistake this shiny metallic seats for a corpse freezer cabinet. They blend into the environment so well you wouldn't know they existed unless you trip over one.

Secondly, your butt slides clean off this thing.
Seriously.
The smooth floor doesn't help a bit. Almost every human being I see who sit on this monstrosity immediately squirm and wriggle to get some traction between their bums & the unforgiving excuse of a seat. Then give up & stand.

Someone should exhibit this horrible thing in an art museum. Right there in the abstract art section, where people can come and gawk that its complete incomprehensibility.

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Ok. That's it.

Oh, and Happy Belated Birthday Singapore!!!

So, the hard work and late nights of incessant planning, scheming and finger-torture has finally paid off.

Oh it was painful. Yes.

And tedious. Yes.

And some worked much harder than others. Yes. (lazy lydia lies low)

BUT! By the power of Greyskull - the drudge of artistic toils and exemplary amount of UHU and Daiso shrinking plastic has prevailed.

Time: This Saturday 10AM
Location: Red Dot Museum
Mission: Set up booth


Red Dot museum near Maxwell Road. Looking as imposing as a fire-hydrant that grew windows and warns you of restaurants . cafe and bars.



Setting up shop. Shuning, making sure the postcards are exactly parallel to the adjacent wall.


Ridwan, checking for termites in his bags. Got? Nope. Save for the crispy dead worms from last semester.

Interestingly, it was Ridwan's canvas bags that was a hot seller.
Who in the world would pay money for a bag with dubious screen prints of gothic-god-knows-what with bits of used cigarette butts and crispy worms stuck on them? Who? Tell me who!? Is it even nice?!

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I'm not jealous, of course.
I'm not jealous, of course.
I'm not jealous, of course.

I took the afternoon shift so after setting up shop in the morning, we went to Club Street to stock up on useless stuff you'll never need but always want.


Little Drom Store.

While Cat Socrates is dusky and soulful and Casual Poet (bless its soul) is wooden and rustic - The Little Drom Store is bright and cheerful. Snuggled next to an unassuming cake shop, the bleached white walls never fail to make me smile.


The "twist" sign. Only asian girls do it. I Don't know why.

Went back at 3:30PM to man the store till evening.

It's kinda romantic. Snuggled into a corner with the frigid air-conditoning in a quiet room with exhibits of glowing neon lights pulsating slowly around you.
It is a sense of reverence and reverie at the same time.

Curious indeed.

Then, it was over before you knew it.

every night you dream of the same underwater scene,
where you nearly made your peace,
but then the silence suddenly ceased.
and placed by an unseen hand,
you were brought back to the tumult of land.

~cast away: the one AM radio~

Sometimes I feel like jumping into the sea and swimming far far away from here.
Where the deep blue ocean gives you the sensation of flying and dying at the same time.
Then you wash up on to the shore.
And realise they don't love you anymore.
So you return to the ocean floor.
and live there forever more.