When all you need is a knife

This is a bunch of words at the end of a deceptively long day of a not-very-eventful life. I guess we can call it forced vomit. Day started off with a flash mob (of sorts) for Rashidah at Clarke Quay. Lunch afterwards made me late for Kevin-Xu Zi rehearsal at PA. Looking back I should have just squeezed in an Ah Then class. Vetting for Labour Day Istana show was followed by vetting for Danz People recital. Clement and Chun were great; I saw half the item live, and the other half later on video. Pat cheered like I had never seen, or had not seen in a long time. Esther's equestrian costume for Mash lacked only a whip--I loved it. It was strange not having all three lawyers around for the first time. I floated in, and floated out. I just saw the music video for World Expo. I wish it wasn't so National-Day, even if the occasion is very National-Day. The various elements and segments also seem disparate, bound only by their National-Day aesthetic. But the main thought watching the video was that it was a good call to turn down the Singapore Arts Festival.

Platform went very well. I think it went better for those who came to support me (or those who dropped by) than for myself. I don't think my choreography was particularly amazing. But I'm glad it worked; it flowed, it connected with the music, maybe even furthered it. If only I could start on time or end a little later, I would have liked to watch, and to block. The response again indicates that what I'm best at may not be what I love doing the most, the other instance being funk jazz. Or maybe I'm just masochistic. Platform ended the post-graduation season of choreography, which began with the rehashing of all-girl items for a Blast show and CFA Open House. Looking back the money should have just gone completely into the concert fund. Speaking of which, as most have heard by now, our tenth anniversary, and hence also my collaboration with Chun, is postponed to next year, a forever-amusing outcome of the Tau Huay Talk between Kelvin, Esther, Magnus, Poonie and myself after vetting last Saturday, henceforth known by me as the 5-6-7-9 incident.

Emotional rollercoaster of emotional rollercoasters, although it is a slow and a slow-changing one, and includes middle-of-the-road sentiments such as casual bewilderment, frigid emptiness, and general epistemological crisis. I don't want to smudge your life. (Nobody likes a nasty breakout.) I'm masochistic but I'm not sadistic. Collateral damage is no fun. I've always thought my history cyclical. You prove me wrong, many times, many ways. I'm hoping you prove me wronger. I have more than I ever asked for. Dare I ask for more? And to the reader, if my blogging has become too cryptic for your taste, (a) Blame Poonie, and (b) Try Poonie's. Haha.