it’s a torrential downpour in Singapore today - good luck for those of you that have been stranded outside. It briefly happened to me, while having lunch at the neighbourhood coffeeshop. But thankfully, my latest read "Traders, Guns and Money" kept me suitably occupied, giving insight to the wacky world of derivatives. When we learnt Black-scholes and option pricing, I thought i was dumb not to get it, but apparantly, people who do it professionally don’t get it either.

I like it when it rains, but it has to be a huge downpour that lasts hours, fogs up your room window and lowers visibility to a zero. Then the best thing to do is huddle up with a book, a soft toy if you own one, listen to Scud Mountain Boys and doze off to sleep. Even better, I am re-watching Season 3 of CSI Las Vegas, while the thunder roars and the huge rain droplets hit on my window, I feel well comforted in my small and single bed.

It’s been  pouring for the last 4 hours. I am crossing my fingers that this does not stop anytime soon. I almost feel like the sky is crying for me, and that isn’t too bad…at least I am not alone. Make a pot of tea and some pandan cake, all set…

If not for the rain, I would probably be out doing random things again. Our last jaunt to find a wireless internet connection led me and Peishan to Singapore Expo. The only high point was that there was free parking for the whole of February and there was no one there, as one can tell from the rows of empty seats behind Peishan.

From an afternoon of silence , I moved on to the P3 send-off party held at Cafe Del Mar on Sentosa. What a tacky joint! The workmanship of the club fixtures were simply cheap, Taiwanese-looking and did not reflect a Mediterrenean oomph at all. For a monday night, the club owner must be screaming for joy all the way to the bank, as the Insead students launched a no-holds-barred "drink them dry" campaign. Quotes include, " I would have drank more, if not for their slow service!" Hmmm, someone should chart the growth of the economy vs the number of Insead students in that country. I am sure there is a very positive correlation. Spend big, spend huge. Everyone adopts a "tropical dress" in Singapore, with flowy beach shirts and white linen pants…eh…how come leh? So contrived.

But alright, the bed calls again and I am treating myself to yet another episode of CSI…but New York. blood and gore on a rainy day.

Here is how one spends a lackadaisical day:

10am - Get up for a morning swim and tan by the public pool. For a mere $1, the public pool not only has upgraded deck chairs, but an olympic-sized swim area. I haven’t tanned since…Portugal last year and feeling the heat of the sun was a wonderful feeling. The only downer: attempting to revive my French grammer by thumbing through "The Essential French Grammer book"…damn this subjunctive tense.

12pm- still at the pool, getting toasted and decidingly hungry. Today’s menu, curried clams. Cannot be beat. My stiff neck has persisted for days and the only way to salvage the situation is to go for a massage…which of course i do.

2pm - Traditional Javanese massage, The masseuse, Siti, has magic hands as she dives into my sore back with gusto, even cracking my stiff neck in 2 places. I finally realized how much i needed this and it even manages to make me smile for 2 seconds, but not before i sink back into a bout of depression realizing that I had overspent my daily allowance again. How do things like that happen??

4pm - Meet JJ for gossip and coffee, While people are starting out with great jobs at a top consulting firm, i manage to misplace my housekeys at starbucks, while explaining how lost i am (in life) to JJ, whom nods along with sympathy. Physically losing one’s keys is a traumatic event (it shows mental displacement really), especially when your car is parked in the basement of Suntec City, at a hefty price that is ticking into a parking bomb with every passing minute.

8pm - Dinner with Ally at our fave Katsu diner in Takashimaya. Ally is, as usual griping about how hard her bosses are working her. I tend to agree, it just seems like people shouldnt have to suffer this abuse. but then, abusive treatment seems to be something that is fashionable these days, lots of people are doing and receiving it. No jesting about my sarcasm ok?

10pm - Dessert and soya bean milk at Chomp Chomp in AMK. Haven’t been there in yonks and it’s still a pretty cool neigbourhood. We decided to head here on a whim, it’s nice to have a car really, kinda gives one a lot of freedom and parking tickets. Ally is still bitching about how terrible her life is, since she hasn’t watched TV in the last 6 months after starting at this new bank. Now, I fear for my life since I am not sure if I can stomach 14 hour work days. I am weak like that. I may lose my sense of humour, then my hair and after that sign up for 1) Silent camp in Thailand 2) Lunchtime dating services to "help me meet other career-minded individuals".

11pm - Am caught in some kind of crazy traffic on the highway, there is an oil spill and the overhead signboards put up cheery and bright neon signs with a toppled vehicle, warning drivers of the impending jam. Still, i went ahead and sat in my car, listening to Hot Chip’s The Warning. quite apt tune in a traffic jam, the lyrics are pretty much passive-agressive, with toughed-up lyrics like "Hot Chip will take you down, snap off your head"

Finally home, backing up my laptop (Which will take hours) and musing at how quickly a day can zip by, without one noticing at all. Very soon, it would have been a year, maybe two and this would be the same shit, on a different day - on some kind of mind-numbing Groundhog Day playback. Now, i feel grumpy. and i still don’t have anyone to share this information with…except the faceless general public that is you.

I look at the other car drivers in the next lane, it’s a couple in their 40s. They didn’t seem to be interacting much - she was sleeping while he watched the traffic snail past. I was in my car, tapping the wheel and singing to Peter, Bjorn and John’s "Young Folks" and raising my hands to dance. It was rather liberating for all of 5 seconds, before I caved to convention and resumed tapping on the wheel.

There isn’t much to describe the aimlessness in which I operate on at a quotidien level. I wake up, I ponder for two minutes what I ought to do for the day, I worry about my finances and then I surf the net. At some point in time, I feel hunger but a listlessness permeates my lacklustre eating. But eating is something to do and I crave for anything to occupy myself with. This wasn’t the glam life that was promised to high-flying MBAs, but I think it’s just me. On days when I get invited to go shopping with girlfriends, we shop and wished we had the money to buy a Chloe dress that would be oh-so-fabulous but frankly, it being Singapore - where does one wear a Chloe dress to? Certainly not to a Ghost Rider action flick. So, I end up buying crap that I don’t need, because it doesn’t cost me $500 but fills the void for consumerism, but only ever so slightly.

The girly conversations are thematic. They mostly are about men, and mostly, sob stories at that. Being unappreciated, trying hard and not getting anywhere, where to find a good (ie. sane, non drug abusing, non-selfish) male individual. This wasn’t what Sex In The City promised, that women could be liberated and free. savvy and sexy at 30. Based on my experience, it seems like women detest being liberated and free. The whole point of being liberated and free is so that they can be available on the market to become un-liberated and un-free. Tres interessant, n’est-ce pas? If not men, then about weight. So far, despite my copious and feverish recent readings into China’s history, or the Misbehaviour of Markets (financial theory, risk assessment techniques, monto carlo simulations) or The Moral Consequences of Economic Growth - none of that has emerged as a viable topic as yet. Perhaps, the rest of the world is happy to proceed as it proceeds. And one should change one’s reading fodder to include self-help journals or Elle magazine, just to relate better to what is most meaningful for others. Anyway, looking at pretty dresses is quite nice, especially since spring is all about the frou frou and the flirty.

It’s random. all random. As much as I feel thankful being surrounded by great friends who care, there is still a sense of unsurety, a kind of nagging dissonance and this is not post-purchase dissonance, it’s just an apathy to life, the future, to other people’s problems. When one is bogged down emotionally with oneself, it is hard to extend outwards and pay attention to those around you. Which makes it terrible, because not only do I not have an agenda, my own selfish reality has not allowed me to sympathise with someone’s else agenda. At this point in time, how I wished i could economically allocate depression away, just like a redistributive welfare system and in return i take some happy benefits from someone else that has too much of it (eg. great career, loads of money, a house, a loving dog/ pet fish, a partner of choice). But if our societies cannot even decide what is the fairness index that surrounds a tangible distributive system (ie. money as an allocation mechansim), it is a hopeless case for the intangible (ie. happiness, welfare) redistributive system to work.

I get ahead of myself. This is dribble. But the randomness is not. As I slurp my fishball noodles at breakfast, i am entertained by a lion dance. I tap my chopsticks in sync with the loud cymbal clashes.

As i drive, i am reminded that Singapore is still a developing nation where the weird and the hardworking coincide. This push-cart trash man was fixing his equipment in the middle of the street, just to save a couple of minutes in between traffic light changes. No rest for the weary.

And i am reminded at how unspecific people can be. When ordering an Ipoh hor fun, the chef tells us that it is all seafood…well, we asked if it was all seafood and she just nodded. But of course, the ipoh hor fun turns up with all chicken and 1 prawn. Even with a relatively specific question, people can be obtuse and opaque. Much less when people aim to communicate their feelings at an in-depth level. Stories abound of how she says she tried to be super attentive and caring and he says she was stalking him. Or, that she thought they were dating and he thought they were just hanging out. Minna says that all this jargon seems "very American" and I think it’s the modern disease of unspecificity, the fear of commitment to specifics through language. After all, the depth of language is a reflection of the mind and unspecific communication is simply a manifestation of non-commitment or the need to maintain an open option for escape. And like all call options, being ‘in the money" means promising less and building increased expectations that the stock will rise in price (ie. the other party says specifically what you want to hear/ understand). Ok, this is arcane, but I have realized that beyond the rude sexuality of financial lingo (eg. straddles, puts, splits), a lot of it is quite applicable to assessing life. *applause*

Ok, maybe i am just a dork. but there is no rest for the weary or the weary-hearted.

In an island where hardly anything happens (except for the numerous churning of monies and constant reallocation of funds), i was pretty pysched to find out that electro-rock/synth pop darlins Cut Copy were playing. Other biggies included Jurassic 5 and Beastie Boys. Nevermind that it was sweltering and filled with drunken expats and their nymphette girlfriends, whom probably never heard of the Beastie Boys, or at best, purchased their Hello Nasty album because it was on sale and Sean Paul was sold out. But I digress and it’s hard to hold back my musical snobbery. kakakaka. A concert and a snapshot of the changing social fabric in Singapore, all in one go.

The uber cool cool cool Cut Copy that played sadly, a mediocre set due to sound problems, too much sampled tracks and suffered an imbalanced EQ. But I managed to convince Peishan that they are quite cool, although she had great doubts about happy electronic music and has dubbed them as "house" - as dirty a term as can be, if one is into indierock.

But all us girls started gathering around and discussing that the guitarist is super pretty and his old man cardigan look is a hot look to die for. We want his children! if not…just his thinness and his hair.

The other pretty half of Cut Copy. The graphic were pretty disko-like, reminds me of Kylie.

Jeff, who insists that I take a photo of him and Mikil, since they "look alike". Everyone must be on drugs, except me.

Nothing prepared me for The Beastie Boys, I wondered how old they would look? And would they be energetic? They didn’t disappoint and put in every ouce of jump into their set. Mike D, beautifully samples Kelis. Good ole’ tunes like Root Down, Ill Communication, Sabotage were churned out.

Question: How does one know that they are from New York and Jewish? Answer: When in mid-set, they start talking about staking the set on their per diems. That’s as calculating as it gets. And the fact that they approach the stage in suits, with suitcases in hand. Now, that is funny.

I managed to bump into half of Singapore’s music scene and old friends, all of whom look a tad older, a tad more responsible and a tad less party-going than before. How come? In contrast, when one sets loose a bunch of Insead kids - this is what happens. Mad jumping and screaming, in varying forms of nudity. It’s hard to imagine how we are suppose to ethically lead the business world. But we can only try….

Desmond, bassist from Electro Co - in resplendent Chinese New Year Red, but also carrying a matching red handbag. So gay.

Checking out: the very pleased and sweaty chicks! Happy New Year everyone!

Reunion dinners can be tiresome, with the extended family visiting. Usually, there is an overflow of food, loud chatter in probably 5 different languages and dialects where everyone complains about the economy, hard times and how their children are faring with their lives. I haven’t really been around for Reunion dinners for several years, given my previous work/ travel schedules so it was nice to be home. This year, Mum broke tradition and made it a small affair, meaning me, Paul and Mum. But one thing remains, there is always too much food. And Mum spent the whole day (since 12 mid-day) in the kitchen. Her efforts were well worth it and I think I am a pretty good cook but I think it’s hard to top Mum’s cooking.

For lunch, she fried a simple bee hoon dish, with fresh red cut chillis to serve. The secret ingredient: To use some ikan bilis stock as a base to fry the noodles in. That and ensuring that the bee hoon is not too too wet are the most important things about good beehoon.

But dinner was fantastic. She made our favorite curry chicken, with softly boiled potatoes, chicken in curry that had been on the stove since mid-afternoon, with the taste of spice and heat all steeped into the chicken. I tried 2 pieces and continued my way…till the whole bowl was gone and dove in with bread this time, soaking the bread with curry. Yummy!

Like any proper chinese family, we had 5 dishes for 3 people. The cutlery and table setting was a myraid of stylings, which I find funny and slightly humourous. It pretty much summarises the random decor of our house - years of furniture and plates with vases that don’t quite mesh together but at some point in time, reflected a certain style.

Vegetables made with abalone, tiger prawns in black sauce with chilli, a yong tau foo soup and the best dish of all - freshly steamed grouper that has to be steamed at 8 minutes and not more, in order to have the meat leaving the fishbone just right, flaky but not turgid. I have always felt fortunate that I grew up in a family that knew its food, for there are few and far virtures to being Chinese, save for the food.

My verdict: one of the best Reunion dinners ever. Now, if i can only convince my mum to make her famous Mee Siam. I think I can quit my banking job and make more money with that. last I spoke with the owner of this nasi lemak stall down in Changi Village (the place for either nasi lemak or blowjobs from transvesitites), he now owns 2 properties and drives a Volvo. Not bad from selling $2 nasi lemak in the far eastern corner of Singapore.

Or I could bring Singaporean cuisine to Europe - that will teach the world - well, maybe just Europe… No more bad Chinese food to plague and put off hopeful Europeans that seek an adventurous and new taste. Only the real thing Makan sedap!

I thought it would be a great idea to organize steamboat dinner for everyone. Sadly, the famous chicken rice was already sold out. Much to my chagrin. But what the heck, we did a lou hei and ordered steamboat, but not before having to deal with specialized requests of vegetarians vs seafood allergies. Man, insane.

The Hainanese steamboat place was packed full of families and people. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere really, at Golden Mile Shopping Complex (in the heart of transit buses to KL and Thailand) and Little Thailand, sits the most non-descript building ever. Jeff and Teniel putting on a smile for all of us

The dish of prosperity. I was remarkably surprised at everyone’s dexterity with their chopsticks. It was pretty cool.

Higher and Higher, that’s the whole point of the game.

Steamboat hainanese style, with a chicken broth base.

Surrounded by tons of extended families celebrating their Chinese New Year, it was really a good feeling to be part of the festive madness. Plus, the proprietor has permed hair and a gold chain. Cannot complain, there is still a modicrum of hotness left in him. i like very much.

There are days when admin zips past and it’s almost easy to get 3 things done in 5 minutes, read: fix watch battery, buy a newspaper, top up phone credit. Then, there are days where the admin piles up and nothing moves. So, this is my experience with the HR dept of my future employer. I get resent my employment contract, only to have all the figures wrong. I call them up only to find out that the HR person is on leave and only to be redirected to another person in the vast chain of affairs. I call up that person, to get her out-of-office voicemail that redirects me to another person. I think you can guess where the story is heading now…I call up the next person…only to get their voicemail that tells me to speak the first person I had attempted to call. Unbelieveable.

Not to mention, my laptop is almost broken…but no fear, I had purchased the king of all warrenties that guarentees parts get replaced even due to being spit on, but of course, the warranty office has changed its telephone number. And I can’t find them anywhere on the map. so, admin piles up. Things that won’t move, nor go away. In all likelihood, i m jobless because my contract hasnt been signed and my laptop will soon burst in flames. And that wouldn’t be half-bad because at least, something is moving.

If I could plot the time taken per admin item on some chart, i doubt i would get a bell curve. While the normal curve seems largely normal and frequent and attempts to explain every single occurence, it actually isn’t quite representative of a lot of nature’s phenomena. I think my life subscribes to this fully. The current existence is much like a flow, where each event is dependent on the last and while some days pass with small ticker blips, others fly in a crazed, volatile fashion. Would it be possible to predict where my life will go next? Will all life changing events occur within a 95% confidence interval in x number of days? Impossible, because I don’t subscribe to Central Limit Theorem (n<30), nor am I normally distributed by any means. That my existence is irrational and that in itself flouts all possibility of positively predicting probabilities of success. But before I suffer from the compulsive urge to chart everything in my life into some semblance of a spreadsheet, I must first go for steamboat dinner and chicken rice. And then, a dancing night at Velvet. Where all house sluts go. because…We Love House. Especially Tessa’s one-for-one privileges. Did I mention it’s good to know VIPs in this town??

In our effort to protest the lovey dovey-ness of Valentine’s Day, Ally and I decided to have dinner in a place that reeks of zero romanticism - a Hong Kong fast food diner. Yes I know, the words are redundent. And followed by…an action flick, Ghost Rider. Of course, neither of us knew prior that the movie was 1) a comic book 2) Was about a skull on a motorbike, constantly on fire, with a chain belt 3) Starred Nicolas Cage, who looks like he just had a botox job and Eva Mendes in gratitutiously tight clothing, boobs a-hanging. The best lines included "The devil may have my soul, but he does not have my spirit". Woah…seriously…

But what was more shocking is that for a lot of other peeps, the movie…was a Valentines date film! The very thing that we had attempted to escape!! We had to jostle past many a bouquet of poorly-conceived flowers. Mostly mass-produced crap for over-the-top prices. All in the name of love. I also find it mildly amusing that teen boys start giving out roses to their teen girlfriends, no bitterness here, after all, I did receive 1 flower, only at the very old age of…erhm 18 or something. The power of mass education; start them young = constant recurring revenues for the rest of their consumerist lives! Magazines and newspapers that spout on about love and romance should charge a premium to businesses in the gift of giving business.

So, what is romance? Given that our choice of zero-romance-ambiance HK fast food joint was filled with…again…ROSES and COUPLES! this is unbelievable. I would never take my gf to a place like that. I mean, they cook instant noodles with luncheon meat (spam)…here is a picture. not really michelin-star, more like "Michael-Lin starr". But, I never quite understand love in an asian city - people attempt to be romantic, in order to feel modern, but…to a HK fast food restaurant?! Where is the romance in that?

Devastated that we could not disregard Valentine’s day, we had to drown our sorrows in large lattes and cake. but of course. but at least, i got to wear my nice shoes.

The wacky: Wasabi ice-cream. Something that is cold, slightly sweet but with a burning aftertaste. Ally and I found this Japanese ice-cream stand, Uzumaki, at Cineleisure. Having been taunted by all good movies being sold out, we resorted to comforting ourselves with black sesami and wasabi ice cream. I can only say that this is one of those experiences that i would file under "Keep in view" or "Only to utilise if all desired movies have been sold out".

The wonderful: Hanging with good friends, clubbing till 4am and eating supper. In this case - pork ribs soup. Yummy! Or maybe, that was the vodka talking. After a year of wine and kirs, i realized that my stomache is quite unable to take any form of vodka. But the smiles are always worth it. Drinks at The Loof are 50% IF it rains, try modelling those cashflows, should be interesting. I would love to market the prospectus with a valuation that stretches from a 50-100% range.

The Butter Factory turned out to be pretty fun, with the crowd just under control, but of course, we had Bel and Tessa whom were VIPs that got us in very quickly at NO CHARGE! So nice to know people that have some clout in this town. With one dancefloor that was great hip hop and RnB, and the outside lounge spinning remixes of The Killers, Hot chip and all other indie-electro sounds. A welcome relief!

A bunch of Inseaders came along - a smaller crew than usual, of which, some were serious music fans. Always a joy to unearth the Insead talents. Good club nights bring out self-selecting individuals, i say!

Being back in one’s hometown means doing all the other things that tourists don’t get to do. ie. midnight soya bean curd in Geylang - the melting pot of yuppies, where students run amok, stockful of lecherous men, transvesitites, prostitutes and great food. One of my fave soya bean curd shops is here, at Lorong 9, only to be outbeaten by another soya bean curd place which i will espouse upon, more in my other blog later.

Finally, I get to meet up with Peishan - a friendly face amongst the crazed materialism that occurs in this city state. We banter on about the books we are currently reading, life in Europe while slurping creamy soya bean curd and of course, I had to order the soya bean milk (in addition). Nothing like living in excess, that is what one learns from the French. You can watch Marie Antoinette for a quick 101 glimpse as to why the French never became a serious superpower. The fact that the movie is set to the soundtrack of the odd likes of The Killers and other indie pop bands drives home how crazily frivolous the French monarchy was.

Geylang is one of these magical areas that allow you to take whatever you want from it. For the rowdy students, it’s a night out with your classmates and you only notice the food, the heat and one another’s sweaty features. For the businessman and his hostess, the food doesn’t matter, only the neon lights of the 1 hour motels do, gleaming headlights that spell for heady fun. And that is why I love Geylang, because it allows one to take it as it is, at face value. It’s crude, messy and has some of the best chow ever.

with healthy bean curd in my stomachs, Peishan and I roam around Geylang - there is now a string of sexy bars blaring loud teckno music and talk about niche marketing….A transvesitite bar has also emerged, facing stiff competition and cold stares from the China hostesses 2 doors down.

But what rocks is that there is so much life and happening. I walk past numerous $1 shops and roti prata coffeeshops and remind myself that is why Singapore can be fun, because life is relatively good, it allows for small talk at cheap places such as coffeeshops and hawker centers, which comparatively, on a global scale, is not a bad thing.

Digging deep into prata dough….

I leave off with one thought - the mountain cat - i m no durian expert, but i think the mountain cat is not as reknowned as the infamous and succulent D24. But what do i know? I only ingest

Geylang - the abode for all and where we can all prowl like true mountain cats