Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.
i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes.
I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you.
Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.
It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself.
On memory and nostalgia
It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting.
I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word.
Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for?
People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last.
On growing old
Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall.
I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man?
On a daily basis
One line quips, like this.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
THE WRONG SONG
Waiters should be banned from touching cd players.
or at least, mood-deaf, atmosphere-ignorant, ambiencically challenged waiters, should be banned from touching cd players. because there are few things worse than having a good setting jarred by contextually inappropriate music.
take this thursday evening for example. mel and i are in Rib Shop in damansara heights, scooping in swine ribs and what should have been at least decent red wine. there was no occasion, except perhaps the occasion of the surprise out of the blue. so they got the warm lights right. the food is alright. but something's amiss... that something that's amiss is reggae music in a rib joint.
WHO LISTENS TO REGGAE MUSIC IN A RIB JOINT?
it's just counterintuitive! it's absurd. it's... preposterous! reggae music is for beaches and eating fish while watching the sunset. reggae music is for drinking in the outdoors at night as the seabreeze swoops in. reggae music is not for 48 ringgit per bang dim light western restaurants that adjoin wineries. what's wrong with these people? haven't they grasped some sort of basic constraints, that they can't just play their favourite music anywhere they go just because they like it?
vernon was telling me about how Chef And Brew, this western eatery - also in damansara heights - plays thai music during dinner time. that's pretty bad too. how do you eat expensive steak while listening to thai songs? and there's more. my cell brought fuyee out for his birthday lunch at Modesto's in hartamas. i had rissotto, the rest were digging on some really fine pasta and there were a few pizzas to share. all the waiters were indian and so you won't win a prize for guessing who popped on the bollywood soundtrack.
i mean, can you dig that? bollywood music at an italian restaurant? granted i'm a fan of bollywood and that its sudden appearance didn't jar me as it might someone more culturally puristic. still, i swear, waiters who do not display the least bit of ability to determine the suitability of some musics in relation to the house in which they work should have restraining orders slapped over their heads over the cd player.
because it absolutely doesn't add up. say all you want about globalisation and the cross-cultural experience. i say that when i go to a western joint, just play me something that somewhat locates me within the appropriate context of the goob i'm chucking into my mouth. it's only fair. especially when we pay skips of money to embed ourselves in a conducive, meaningful atmosphere. yeah, so this reads like a rant. actually, it's not. it's just my way of saying that sometimes, in some restaurants, i wish i had one of these:
Labels: food, society
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