Monthly Archives: May 2005

There’s life outside of this blog

The good thing about not hav­ing your own com­puter is that it forces you to go do things other than ‘com­put­ing’. I’m very happy that I’ve been loaned a note­book to use for work, which there seems to be more of, until I get back on my feet, get some cash, and buy myself an

Push button commentary

Straits Times Inter­ac­tive finally spells my URL right. If you’ve just come over from STi, wel­come. All two of you. This is an ‘online diary’, this blog. Keep­ers of such online diaries ‘can wax lyri­cal about any­thing they want’. So hor, you suck! All of youse! Quite lyri­cal hor? ‘Few poli­cies and polit­i­cal hap­pen­ings escape the sharp eye, keen debate

Must. Get. Away.

Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sit­ting well in order smite The sound­ing fur­rows; for my pur­pose holds To sail beyond the sun­set, and the baths Of all the west­ern stars, until I die It may well be the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles”

Trrd

There were so many blog­gers at Hide­out tonight that when I was look­ing worse for wear from an increas­ingly annoy­ing stom­ach ail­ment and tired­ness, one of the Sarong­par­tyfrens asked if I was ill, and that if I were, and if it were con­ta­gious, he’d have to kick me out of the place. Because he was

My world’s come a-crashing down

OK, my note­book com­puter spoyr. I can­not func­tion nor­mally. All my files. Pho­tos. Can’t think! Can’t write! Faaaaaaark!

Quite contrary

When your opin­ion is con­trary to a news­pa­per reporter’s angle on a story she’s doing, there’s a high chance your opin­ion won’t be seen in print: Hi Mr Lee, I’m doing an arti­cle on the influ­ence of local blog­gers and I just have a few ques­tions. Local blog­gers like your­self, mrbrown and Wendy Cheng are treated like

Song to the moon

When I used to get all bogged down with dun­nowhat, I’d drive to lis­ten to the waves crash on the rocks, accom­pa­nied by Dvorak’s Song to the Moon, from the opera Rusalka. But it’s a long way from Clovelly, and East Coast Park just doesn’t do quite the same thing, so what’s a feller to

We own this language and it owns us back

cre­ole, a ver­i­ta­ble lan­guage of its own. And they’re kewwing it! The fuck­ers! Just when we’ve almost acquired a real mother tongue and a national lan­guage that’s con­gru­ent with our migrant her­itage. Nabeh, our fore­fa­thers (limpeh) came here, appro­pri­ated every­thing and made it their own, ok? Ban Singlish and you might as well ban chicken

Makin’ the Sunday Times

Blogs are come alive every­where, crawl­ing off the pri­mor­dial cyber­soup and onto dry paper: Story about Tomorrow.sg and the Blog­ger Con­fer­ence, Sun­day Times p38. The Email Inter­view, Sun­day Times p40. And not for­get­ting this week’s Hot Blog: my name is faith iTunes’ party shuf­fle is play­ing a copy of: Want a Lit­tle Sugar in My Bowl — Nina Simone

Mr Miyagi makes the sports pages

It’s not every day you get fea­tured in the sports pages of the news­pa­per. Unless of course you’re a sportsper­son. Or some­one who’s just lost a lot of money bet­ting on soc­cer. Heck, I don’t even blog about sports. So that’s really a first. Ste­vie Won­der talks about Sin­ga­pore politi­cians Surf stop: wuyuet­ian iTunes’ party shuf­fle