Life on the fast side.

Life is like cruising on the expressway. Sometimes we speed up, go on auto cruise, putter along at 40km/h or streak down the highway of our life like there’s a dozen cars on your tail. I like variety in my pace of life, too slow it becomes an absolute bore, too constant you get too complacent and dull, too fast you risk crashing and burning. Which although it sounds dangerously cool, is about as exciting as a lunatic with a death wish. Not.

Flirtation is no different. Sometimes its slow, mysterious and titillating. Sometimes its shamelessly brazen. Sometimes it’s unapologetically corny and a dizzying sprint from rest to go. Such as the one with L:

L: Ok I’m booking the tickets le. Where do you want to sit? Middle or backside?

Aelg: haha I didnt know cinema got backside lol. up to you. back side, rightside left side also can. As long as not outside.

L: Ahaha lol inside can ah?

Aelg: yeah at the backside.

Luke: inside, backside ah?

Aelg: I think that will be quite hard in the cinema but backside is good.
L: hahaha ok booked. Backside me?

Aelg: lol was that an invitation or a statement?

L: both haha.

Lol this will be an interesting date.

A Toast.

Love is but a moment, cherish it.
Lust is but a release, acknowledge it.
Loyalty is but a possibility, accept it.
Lies are but fallacies, abandon them.

Oh what tangled webs we weave, when first we learn to deceive.

Somethings never really change. Lunch while simple, was highly enjoyable. After all, with friends, it's all about the company isn't it?

A Little Less Conversation.

Seasons change, people change. Though as is often the case in relationships or friendships, sometimes people don't change, it's about discovering the person for who he or she truly is. Their ideals, principles, attitude towards friends and life in general, the person's core. For better or for worse, time and closer interaction with the person (almost always because you're interested to know the person better as a friend or in the case of a lover, your companion) inevitably reveals the core of the person.

And sometimes it's not pretty, certainly not what we expected. Because like it or not, we often either consciously or subconsciously impose our own pre-conceived ideas of a person's character on that person and attribute reasons for his/her conduct based on our perception of that person; even if we profess to accept the person for who he/she really is. We assume that a person would behave in a certain manner perhaps even remotely rationally (now surely that's not too much to ask) based on our pre-conceived notions, observations and general experience interacting with other human beings.

The problem may be summed up thus: we presume based (mostly) on rational observations when in reality sometimes we are unaware of the true nature of the person in question. The person's core self so as to speak. And when we discover it, it can either be a pleasant surprise or a rude jarring shock.

Humans are not perfect. No one is. A perfect world with perfect people all doing objectively perfectly acceptable things, pleasant though it may sound, would be a fucking boring place. Even fucking may be a civil affair. So naturally friends (like yourself) are imperfect. There will always be things about friends that annoy you. Little idiosyncrasies or habits which irk and irritate but things which we are of course able to accept and overlook as part of the entire package known as your friend. You might hate the habits or quirks but you still like them as friends. God knows you're no bloody angel yourself.

There are however certain fundamentals issues or principles you live by, tenets of your interaction with friends and loved ones that are central to your very existence. These principles and beliefs are so fundamental that you will brook no breach of them and a person whose ideas/principles run counter to the same principles is someone you can never be closer to than on an acquaintance level. Not quite anathema though I guess for certain people, certain principles are so deeply cherished that a person who falls afoul of them may be dead for all they care.

I'm talking about general universal principles such as loyalty, trust, etc. You get my drift. Though these principles will invariably vary from individual to individual. I'm a man of few principles (haha much too tiring to keep track of) and I think individuals with a load of principles are no more principled (pun fully intended) than individuals who happen to be more scrupulous with their principles.

So one of my principles is I'd expect a friend, a close one especially, to be consistent. And when I mean consistent, I mean be consistent in your treatment towards other people based on their conduct/character and your friends in particular. Also please be rational. Naturally, it's fine to be emo sometimes, to be under the weather or what not. Like I said we aren't saints. You would certainly however expect more consistency from a close friend and the unspoken understanding that you don't treat that friend based solely on your mood especially when your fucking mood/reaction has absolutely fucking nothing to do with that friend.

That presumes the person is rational in his/her thought processes, can articulate his/her reasons for their conduct and express logical explanations for his/her quirky beliefs. A presumption that sometimes, it appears, is to much to expect or even hope for. There is always a limit to how much communication can do. And when communication fails, all there's left is arrivederci.

Just talking about this just pisses me off. Sometimes, the problem isn't about others or how you perceive others to jettison you simply because of your falling out with another. To reach such a conclusion speaks volumes of your regard and perception of the person who 'jettisoned' you. Superficial & threadbare. Perhaps it's time to take a good look at yourself and realise that most people appreciate some consistency in treatment in a friendship. Certainly not being subjected to the mercurial mood swings for vacuous matters unknown even to yourself that somehow gets redirected to your clueless friends.

It's always sad when a close friendship which you really valued turns out to be vacuous and devoid of amity. But I've said it before. I have no time for the insolent, the inconsistent and the consistently mad. Life's short enough as it is. Like I told a friend, once (the first time something serious happens) I close one eye, twice I close two eyes, thrice you go and die. And once you're dead to me, you'll always be.

Of Clocks and Cocks.

My attraction to and affection for the latter has never been in doubt. Having cock is a wonderful thing. My fascination with clocks however was considerably understated in comparison, tempered by an inability to get my hands on any (pre-internet) and the prohibitively expensive ones that were available locally. Then along came the joys (or scourge depending how you view it) of ebay and online shopping which initiated the clock buying spree these past couple of months. Which naturally prompted incredulous queries from friends questioning the state of my mind and my apparent sudden obsession for clocks with punny statements ranging from 'You going cuckoo is it?" to "Aiyah, no cocks don't need to go for clocks ma."

I've always liked clocks. You know the antique or vintage clocks with mechanical movements that actually go tik tok and not the battery powered modern quartz movements which have as much character as a missionary in a strip club. Anything with weights and/or springs that doesn't require any form of electrical or battery power is sufficient (assuming the clock looks decent of course), to enthrall me. I've been hard pressed to explain just why such clocks fascinate me so.

I guess at the most basic level, it's watching the movement tick, to see & hear the gears moving in unison while knowing that it's powered by nothing more than gravity or the energy of a wound spring. The chimes and strikes on the hour, while not essential to the attraction, is undeniably a highlight. The whirr of the chime and/or strike train followed by the actual striking of the hour/ 1/4 hour is both an aural as well as visual treat. Naturally, no two clocks (unless you get the same model) sound the same when chiming/striking; the sound ranging from factors like the size of the clock case, the material of the clock case, the number of striking levers and of course the object being struck which generally fall into three categories: bells, chime rods and coiled gongs.

And this diverse aural repertoire adds to the attraction of these vintage/antique clocks, giving an immeasurable advantage over their boring quartz battery counterparts with their flat electronic sounding chimes. It is one of the reasons why my fascination for clocks doesn't extend to watches (which I still appreciate btw), you'll never find a watch with a rich Westminster chime that only a 5 or 8 bell Seth Thomas Sonora bell chime can provide. Not to mention that as far as clocks and cocks are concerned, big is better. :p

Now I'm not saying that ALL clocks chime/strike beautifully, with fluid precision or at a subjectively 'acceptable' volume. Some like the Seth Thomas Chime 77 are more melodious than your average gong striking clock, some like the19th C Japy Freres clocks with their single brass bell more sonorous than others. Some have tinny, mellow strikes, the kind you'd be able to leave in your bedroom and not worry about. Yet others like the Waterbury 'Gibson' double alarm parlour clock with two gongs have been described as 'anything but musical' and to be 'loud enough to wake the dead'. Which I guess serves its purpose since one of its functions was as an alarm clock. All in all a potential glorious cacophony but therein its variety lies their attraction. Who wants 100 clocks which all go bong with the exact tone, pitch and volume?



I like my gadgets new and my collectibles old. It's all very well to have a nice snazzy piece of furniture or collectible which may very well become an appreciated antique/vintage yeeeeears later. But there's something about an antique clock or collectible that arrests your attention like no new fangled piece can. There's history, character and you can be damn sure that it's been around longer than you have. Now I just need to learn how to attempt to clean and oil them to minimise the predictably expensive servicing sessions.

Antique clocks are working pieces of art. Everytime they tick, every movement the gears make and every strike they take is a portrayal of history in motion and art in action. And I have no doubt they will outlast me as they have many others. Perhaps my epitaph should state : He liked his clocks old and his cocks young. lol.