A collection of quotes that spoke to me.
Beware: ahead lies mentions of religion, spirituality and various unmentionables.
From John Pritchard's book, “Why go to church?” (Page 18):
Making the effort to put ourselves into a place of glad gratitude is nearly always worthwhile. It changes our point of view. It says: 'this is what I was made for. This is where I'm meant to be.' and gradually, oh so gradually, we become a fraction more like the one we worship.
It was my first time buying a bottle of wine. Previously, I had only bought wine by the glass, at various bars. And, of course, the sales assistant now seized the opportunity to brainwash me into buying more than I could conceivably drink. (Probably she was in danger of losing her job if she couldn't meet her sales target for the month. But, dear madame, I can't mend your life at the expense of my budget.) I turned her down firmly, at least three times.
The title says it all.
I shall attempt to compile a list of news articles, below.
If the rich and famous can die suddenly – in the midst of their affluence and opulence – so can I.
A question for myself: does Sergeant Death really care if I am rich or poor, single or married?
Memento mori.
With a big thank-you to my father, who generously sponsored my school-fees.
This is an attempt to bring myself some closure.
I enjoyed accessing the university's Central Library (as contrasted to, say, the library of the University's Conservatory of Music.) Never underestimate the power of an old library. I loved wandering through the aisles of strange, fragrant books. As the saying goes: “An old library is a good place to be lost.”
“There is something else meaningless that occurs on earth: the righteous who get what the wicked deserve, and the wicked who get what the righteous deserve. This too, I say, is meaningless.
So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun.”
In the interests of (limited) time, I will condense my experiences into three categories: Fun, Done and Learnt.
Date: 3 May 2025 (Saturday), 8 PM
Learnt: Actresses with pretty faces require special help from nearby humans, to wick off (inconvenient) perspiration that forms on their bodies – all these have to be prepared with them, before they appear on camera.
Done: I informed a young gentleman about the freegan – or otherwise money-less – lifestyle.
A couple of social workers from Taiwan have visited our little island recently to acquaint themselves with the situation of homelessness here.
My takeaway: information on an upcoming event in Seoul.
From Agent L (a pseudonym): “This conference will explore housing policies and the situation of homeless people and migrant-workers in Japan, Korea, Hong Kong and Taiwan. It features multiple site visits and local engagement.”
East Asian Inclusive City Network, 14th Conference. https://www.iiud.org/ea-icn-14th
Today a couple of church-employees showed us around a church-carpark that has been re-purposed as an overnight shelter for our homeless friends.
Yesterday was my first time attending a performance of Shakespeare's plays. I have read a number of his texts before (Othello, and The Tempest, just to name a few) but actors bring a new dimension to the performance. As my acting-lessons coach once said, “The text is dead. Actors have creative freedom to choose how they want to emote the words.”
Of course, the behind-the-scenes crew, and not just the cast, are outstanding in their individual and collective genius – time does not suffice to list all their luminary contributions. Included in the crew are Rayann Condy (as Intimacy Director), and Matt Hutchinson (in the department of Puppets, Puppetry Design & Direction). And Lee Yew Jin (sound design), and Peps Goh (fight-choreography).
I would like to highlight the physical space as another actor in its (her?) own right. The venue is Fort Canning Park. As the sun lowered itself behind skyscrapers – which, in the blue light of dusk, glowed softly with a thousand electric lights – a couple of large birds (wildlife, not props) soared above the greenery. “Eagles,” my companion-for-the-evening said. What a strange sound they are making, I thought. I've never heard them vocalise before.
The combined forces were impressive. More than 80 choir members glided onto the stage, clothed in black, as if they were wraiths, now summoned to writhe before the Final Judge, before whom no one can be found blameless.
And I, a shame-faced mortal, sat with my flesh, (which is unceasingly beset with attacks of urine and excrement), awaiting the Strings section to stab the air with dramatic statements of tension and unease.
Art should comfort the disturbed, and disturb the comfortable.
What a blessing it is to enjoy music – on both listening and performing ends – at public pianos.
Let me recount some memorable encounters while I was plonking away at the keys.
“My father is dead. Before he died, he used to play this song for me. Can you play it?”
“sure, I can't play it fluently, as I'm unfamiliar with it, but I can try.”
“Thank you.”
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep; 'God is not dead, nor doth he sleep! The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men!' – H. W. Longfellow
I have never had a father’s protection from danger, and I have never had a mother’s tender touch.
Every passer-by could see I was lost and abandoned, but no one had the willingness to help; or, even if they had, they lacked the ability. They shook their heads, and said, “it’s sad to see this”, and then went on with their lives.