-sometimes it feels like this, DB-26-

coup d'œil -at a glance

Listening to:
Thinking of:

Credit where the picture is due... How many screw ups can one afford in a week? Plenty apparently. Oh boy...

Pomp and Pompousness

Listening to: Mr. Brightside, The Killers

Sunshine State
A weekend in the capital augured much, delivered even more. No, there weren’t drunken nights in nocturnal habitats nor was there the cacophony of musical talent so boldly on display. Yet the parents were both in town and we had a blast… all that was missing was the 4th member of the family.
From wall color selection to the selection of art to adorn the walls of each room and the possible concept of a wine cellar, there was always a pull and tug of opinion. Dreamy days of firmament castles, possibilities endless yet simple literature soaked with a comfy sunshine finish.
Dawn Beckons, calm before the storm
Without the illusion of piousness, a trip to the pew unearthed little truths from a preacher least loved. Lessons are learnt only if lessons are practiced, one believes. Fellowship perhaps something less practiced in modern times without the illusion of the Sunday Smile. In the presence of tea and less common companions, terms of existence were doled out and dissonance of erratic laughter ensued.

Closing Time
Open up all the doors and let you out into the world. It’s ½ way through this flight and tomorrow a world of work beckons. It’s reluctance, not dread this time around. The crystal ball prognosticating a late night in hope the day shan’t start before Mr. Sandman has his way… After all, every beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.

*spoiler: Silly neighbor though admittedly had cause for concern, can’t tolerate being polite for just one minute. Yet, to give in would have been less gracious, perhaps a salvo of witty retort was what the doctor ordered, lest in the presence of the parents, it wasn’t in order.
-fin-

wearing those retro-specs

-whee!!-

Listening to: -the sound of silence-
Thinking of:

The Rambling Blare

Listening to: Rambling Man, Lemon Jelly
Thinking of:

"You've been on the go since the day since you've been born. Some live in houses, some live in homes. But I'm the rambling man"

-Siren-
1 a device that makes a loud prolonged sound as a signal or warning : ambulance sirens.
2 Greek Mythology each of a number of women or winged creatures whose singing lured unwary sailors onto rocks

Strangely apt... 2 months and 2 passings. Both, I can't make it to the comfort of family, not that I've been close to them to begin with. I do hope, the thought counts. Be it any consolation, I've finally come to terms with it, enough to throw the concrete box into a trench and not see it for a while.

Maybe its a sign, a signal or warning perhaps that I ought to be with loved ones a little bit more, put in a little more effort... Make more phone calls for longer. After all, money is only money (not to dilute its significance).

The second definition... well... lol...

Frisk, Frolic and Undemanding Tunes

Its Proms season again... No, no... not the one where one dresses up in a penguin suit and a gown enough to rival the Disney Princesses (or the fairy god mother for that matter), but the Henry Wood Promenade Concerts in its 114th season, played at the Royal Albert Hall also known as the Proms.

A concert every night evening, where the best seats are the cheapest (well, not technically true as one usually stand in the arena) and the music and atmosphere, outstanding. For the classical lover and otherwise, worthy of childrens' attention. No frills, accesible art within the grasp of the local bar boy. I've got to say, I've only been to 1 season and if there's such a thing as love as first sight, my dear... I can't say anything less (with the exception of that horrible opera performance).

There's little pompous uper class drudgery, where the unsaid rule is that when the music is played, there's concentration. Else, there's always good banter and usual prommers become friends, inpromptou picnics are shared and news papers as makeshift chairs are passed around. People come in dressed in street wear, work clothes and cycling shorts. There is no pre-requisite to be all geared and dressed up, unlike the symphony hall in KL.

Isn't that the basis of art? An evolution of culture where experience is not obscured by larger than life egos, but accesible to the most common denominator of society. As the Greeks thought their trade and the soap box rallies in Hyde Park, exposure to different musical types (ableit mostly Classical sub categories and the occasional jazz stuff) it is the beauty of access...

I've said much about the audience, but there are beneficiaries from the art community where the best of the young musicians get to play for the people and make a name for themselves, there's beauty of expression for individual performance.

Admittedly, deep inside I'm a bit of a Romanticised Anglophile... But given the chance, please do try the PROMS, if you like it... great, if you don't... you can say you've done the Royal Albert Hall.

Next Year, Baby- Jamie Cullum

Next Year, 

Things are gonna change,

Gonna drink less beer

And start all over again

Gonna pull up my socks

Gonna clean my shower

Not gonna live by the clock

But get up at a decent hour

Gonna read more books

Gonna keep up with the news

Gonna learn how to cook

And spend less money on shoes

Pay my bills on time

File my mail away, everyday

Only drink the finest wine

And call my Gran every Sunday

Resolutions

Well Baby they come and go

Will I do any of these things?

The answers probably no

But if there's one thing, I must do,

Despite my greatest fears

I'm gonna say to you

How I've felt all of these years

Next Year, Next Year, Next Year

I gonna tell you, how I feel

Well, resolutions

Baby they come and go

Will I do any of these things?

The answers probably no

But if there's one thing, I must do,

Despite my greatest fears

I'm gonna say to you

How I've felt all of these years

Next Year, Next Year, Next Year

- All thats missing is a little green-

I hate being alone, but I do enjoy the occasional moment of solitude

There's so much to write about, Anwar, politics and all that, ah well...

Chaos Theory

Listening to:
Thinking of:

Today is supposed to be my last day onboard the DB26 for this stint. Admittedly, I’m heading back early and it’s not ideal that I hand over on shore. Nevermind about that.

This time, like the last was that bit more interesting when you meet different people, with different jobs. I’ve learnt that asides from being the superintendent or the site rep, it doesn’t matter who you are, you’re always part of the crew. It pays not to think of oneself as the client, but as part of a unit wanting to move forward.

The barge is like a little colony in the midst of darkness and light from installations far away. You can see them, you know where the installations are… but you’re always separated by a body of water from them. More often than not, standing at the crane tower just looking out, I feel that is a fair representative of where I am at the moment.

The dynamic onboard is such that there’s frenzy when something goes wrong and that boredom would only mean that things are going alright. We make crude jokes; we learn about each other and exchange music. Discussion on world issues and items pertaining work, not to mention discussions on where to drink in Miri would crop up every now and again.

I don’t know if I want to leave the barge now when the people I know and get along with are still onboard. There’s an aura and perception of Miri that might apply to just yours truly, it’s all about work. The further the barge progresses, the further the lights seem to be, slowly in stormy days, those lights will fade and disappear.

Like the barge, I need a base