Matt's Missives

they are coming now, with disarming regularity.  they finish day's peak heat, just after two I expect them.  Often without warning, though occasionally there's a flash or crack from above, and they come.  And you're drenched.
It rushes down, hard, big drops on your head, your roof, pelting you like a narrow waterfall running down a canyone. It almost hurts.  I watch them, today, from in here; watch them, amazed every time at their punctuality, these monsoon rains.  Like a cat who knows exactly when dinner is, and never wears a watch.  These rains know their business so well its way beyond knowledge.  How limited are we, with our information and structures, in comparison.  They are so precisely executed we should plan our days, our seasons, our lives around them.  We used to.
And as I sweep, mop the dust from the floors, watching it hang in the air for a few minutes, then settles and I sweep again, I watch the rains.  They are doing outside what I am doing in here.  They are doing it infinitely better.
I had forgotten their precision, I had forgotten so much about the tropics.  It comes back slow and fast, like some treasure you find, hidden as a kid, lost for what you thought was forever and found when you grew up and moved out, packing just before they tear down your house and even when it's gone, you're left with your treasure, dusty and old, but precious because it gives you back, in time, something you were sure you'd lost.
These rains make me want to tear the roof off this house and let their waters flood in, wash out all the dust and dirt, clean my sweat and cool my body, that pants from the slightest movement.
Quickly as they come they're gone and I'm alone with my broom, and the sky is clear and it's hotter than before, now, because they're are no clouds.  And somewhere in the distance the thunder rolls, and I know they'll be back for me tomorrow.

Posted by matt at 07:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I have been told that the way Peking duck and French ducks used in making pate is the same.  They are caged, or trapped in such a way that only their head can emerge from an airhole--which they obviously use to breath.  When they stick their heads out--desperate for breath--their faces are stuffed.  Since their prison is so small that they can't move, they get no exercise.   I am waiting to be slaughtered and cooked.
I would never have believed it, but the people of Kuala Lumpur like to eat even more than Singaporeans.  I guess while here the emphasis is more on the shopping, their basic entertainment rests slightly more on the side of food.  Having spent the weekend there I have finally waddled back into singapore, wondering when my liver will be harvested for the pate.  I was fed, and fed and fed while I was there.  Chinese, Malay, Indian, dessert, tea, snacks.  I'd come away from one meal and walk straight into another.  I'd feel ready to burst and then find I'd have to eat more--or risk being impolite.  So I ate and ate and ate.  And now I feel like I never want to eat again.
Another pleasure of travelling around Malaysia, for those who've never been there, is the music.  Being slightly music deprived in here in Sing, having no stereo or music, I am open to most music.  But Malay pop . . . well, that's something else.  It's like Micheal Bolton, Kenny G. and some bad eighties synthesizers all thrown together. . .in Malay.  Ah yes the heartfelt croonings of some anonymous Malay singer is enough to bring tears to almost anyone's eyes.  Here in Singapore, though, I do occasionally here some familiar songs at the food court near where I live . . . classics like Gloria Estafan's "The rhythm is gonna get you" and Europe's "The final countdown" (wow, haven't heard that one in a LONG time, didn't even know there were still copies of it kicking around), anyone familiar with Europe knows that they are the perfect blend of eighties euro cock rock (an altogether different variety from American cock rock) epitomized by The Scorpions and eighties pop--the wailing synth, shrieking guitar and heavy german accent.  beautiful.  of course, nothing as heartwarming as Cutting Crew's "I just died in your arms tonight" and Bryan Adams' "I'm gonna run to you" which I had the pleasure of hearing over and over while I was on Pulau tioman.  I guess those middle level resorts cater to the kind of Westerner (and Asian?) who appreciates such things.  I know that after a long bus ride hearing nothing but malay pop, I was fully appreciative.  so this is my musical life here in Singapore.  I am quite thankful, now, that a long car ride in early september allowed me adequate time to memorize the complete works of The Weakerthans, so that at least in my own bathroom I can remember that somewhere, some kind of music exists that does no incorporate a synth. . .
miss you all, miss my music more.

Posted by matt at 03:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

well, someone seems to have spread the word, since I do not recall mentioning in any of my emails my 23rd.  I really am not sure who it was (family? friend?)  but I really appreciate the well-wishing.  I also have to apologize for the lack of recent correspondence.  I am writing from an internet cafe, since Tek's computer is down with a virus.  so I'm not writing any of you as often as I would like, and I'm reduced to sending these group emails (which is fine, but should be coupled with personal ones).  I really would like to say how grateful I am to have friends and family like you.  I'm feeling rather emotional these days, (one of my current challenges being to actually face my emotions, rather than hope the bad ones will go away and the good ones will stick around) and I got pretty teary reading all the notes from home.  you all seem so far away right now.  For me this time is not easy--being alone is not something I do well.  But I'm doing okay.  Being alone is giving me a perspective on who I am outside of all the roles I take on in my life--outside of friend and brother, son and ex-boyfriend.  One of the things I've noticed is how often we take on the roles we're in not out of choice, but out of obligation, out of some kind of sense of duty.  I realize, too, that my relationship with each of you is shaped not by obligation, but by something much stronger.
sitting on the beach last weekend, looking up at the stars with Tek and his daughter I sat, perplexed, between youth and age.  as leona wondered, in that way that we all do as teenagers, what was beyond the stars, beyond the bounds of the universe--beyond life itself.  I remember my asking that question, for years, and never finding an answer.  somewhere along the way I put the question down and turned the spotlight inward--looking for some inner essence, some sense of self.  I'm realizing that asking the question "who am I?" is a lot like asking "what is the universe?" there may be answers, purely physical, purely practical, but they will never capture the essence that makes the real answer so undefinable, so elusive.  that answer is something I think all of us are never really capable of putting our fingers on--but I think it's the same one for both questions.  a pretty good substitute for the answer, though, for me, for now, is we are what we mean to eachother.  And each of you means a lot--though sometimes I take it for granted--each in your own very special way, because of the relationship that we have created over months or years.  sometimes the strings that hold us together are tenuous, and someday they might break (if not before, than at our time of death) but for now we have them.  and I value them very much.  my relationships, then, at least the important ones, are not roles of obligation, nor even roles that are acted, but rather as much a part of my essence as anything else I can see.  These relationships are, in many ways, the answer to both "what is the universe?" and "who am I?"

Posted by matt at 08:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

there is no bitterness here.  there is no stifling city, no architectured anal retention, no sense of society pressing in all sides.  not here.  I am in Bali H'ai.  or, more accurately, the island used to depict the fictional Bali H'ai in the movie South Pacific.  Rated, by someone, one of the 10 most beautiful islands in the world, I'm on Pulau Tioman.  Why am I writing you?  Well, first because I've been bad with emails this week, computer out of commission, and despite the beauty of this island I do still miss my friends (I'm kind of an email junky these days).  Also, right now I'm avoiding the sun for reasons that should be apparent from the title.  And. . . because I wanted to gloat.  This morning I went snorkelling on coral reefs just of the island, swimming with rainbow tropical fish, ones with long noses and thin bodies, whole schools, huge schools, that look like seaweed from above yet glitter with silver bellies when seen from below.  urchins, anenomes and of course water the colour of a bombay sapphire bottle.  It's a welcome respite from Singapore's propriety.  In any case, this is just a short note to say I'm here, I'm alive, I'm thinking of all of you, I miss you.  I won't send little notes to each of you at the end in an effort to personalize this, but hopefully I'll be able to start catching up on my email backlog when I get back from this trip.

Posted by matt at 07:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am not all doom and gloom.  In fact, I'm not any doom or gloom at all, despite what it might sound like from my emails.  I don't find Singapore depressing, and it's not getting to me.  More than anything I find it interesting to observe, kind of amusing, and indicative of the extremes to which all our countries and/or cities may go before we smarten up.  Today, though, to assure you of how content I am, I thought I'd send a little email describing some of the simple pleasures of my last two weeks.

Obviously there's tai chi.  I'm slowing down, being patient with it.  Realizing that this training is only the beginning if I want to do this thing seriously, which I do.  I've got a few years ahead of me before I'll even really be able to practice on my own.  I'm committed to it, which means I'll be back in Vic as of March or so, and I learning.  This whole long term realization thing is also allowing me to slow down.  I don't have to get to a certain point by the time I leave.  I don't have to cram in as much as I can.  I'm here to learn tai chi, and that means letting go, not pushing too hard, but not being soft.  It's a fine balance, and usually I'm tipping heavily one way or another.  But I'm realizing I don't have to get it all now, do it all now, experience it all now.  It's a relief.

Then there's the food.  The main advantage to the fact that the Singapore economy seems to be based entirely upon shopping and eating (I have no idea why I see so few obese people) is the extreme of abundance of cheap, delicious food.  Almost every morning I wake up, and if I don't have to practice immediately, I go for roti prata.  This is, essentially, Indian fried bread with a curry dipping sauce.  The Best Roti Prata in Singapore is less than a block from where I'm living (it really is the Best--not only is that the name of the store, but I have yet to discover better).  There are many other cheap places to eat, drink tea, observe the street.  Many of these are in little india.

And the fruit. . .well those of you who have been to the tropics know. . .and those that haven't do yourself a favour, pick somewhere warm, with a beach and spend three months eating fruit.  Mango, mangosteen, papaya, watermelon, starfruit. . . all juicier and sweeter than the best produce we get in Canada.  There is nothing like sticky juice running down your arm in the humid heat of the tropics. . .the only way to survive.  I have also cultivated a taste for the infamous durian.  This fruit tastes a little like garlic at first, then blossoms into a sweet rich flavour, quite indescribable, has the texture of an avocado and stinks so foully (to those that dislike the taste) that they don't allow it on public transit or in hotels.  Today we went to a little island off singapore, pulau ubin (ie ubin island) which was literally covered in durian trees.  It smelled great, and at the end of the day we feasted on this wonderfully garlicy sweet fruit.

Which brings me to contentment number three.  Arriving on Ubin I was reminded of how tenacious life can be.  One comes from singapore, the roar of traffic and crowds, and even just 15 minutes by boat away the air is quieter, cleaner, the people friendlier.  Looking at Sing. on the way over I remarked at how the jungle there clings on only at the coastline--a thin buffer between the ocean and the asphalt.  Arriving on Ubin the same jungle ran the place.  Buildings that had probably only been deserted for a few years were overgrown, ruins really.  Gives you real respect for the lasting power of places like Angkor Wat and Timbuktu.  This ain't no wussy prairie grass--this is thick vine, creeping flower, mangrove and banyan land.  I smiled, coming back to Singapore, because that same jungle, pushed to the edge of our land and counsciousness, will grow back.  When the people go, on this island or some other, the rainforest will push back in.  Within months The asphalt will crack and split with shoots pushing through, the skyscrapers  reduced to ruins and shelters for the stray dogs and cats.  Within ten years our cities will be unrecognizable.  I'm not saying it's gonna happen tomorrow, or even this century, but it will happen, and when it does life will roll over our monuments to ourselves like we steamroll an anthill.  This, more than anything else, gives me a certain kind of satisfaction.

Posted by matt at 12:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

so I'm living in a sci fi movie.  I was wandering through a shopping mall today, on my way to lunch, observing a security camera observing me.  I wandered by the soldiers carrying automatic weapons, and thought "gee, I feel like I'm back in the US of A. . .particularly with the sterile smell emanating from these storefronts that reminds me of the airport."  So I came up with my own little diversionary fantasy (as I am wont to do when wandering the streets of singapore these days, they range from romantic, to heroic to tragic), but this one I feel was particularly good.  I am wandering through a shopping mall, eyes of the state pinned on me (they keep track of your movements with the EZ link card I carry in my pocket) listening to the bodiless voice tell me where I can and cannot eat, can and cannot drink, can and cannot loiter.  eye contact is strictly avoided.  I expect to be contacted by the underground any day now. the rumours of an armed resistance are spreading quickly on the street, though the police are quick to investigate subversive activities of any kind.  yesterday an anti government website was attacked by "hackers," ie the police "anti cyber terror squad."  they will do it quietly, deceiving the cameras always pinned on us.  just two casual consumers conversing in a store.  or something equally subtle.  they will give me information on the headquarters.  i figure it's somewhere in the Housing Development Board (HDB) slums, north of downtown.  Maybe somewhere more dangerous though?  right under their noses.  Singapore's installing those new microchips in people's skulls, ostensibly to keep your bank account right along with you, but we know the truth.  this has to stop.

good one, I thought.  At least it killed twenty minutes of consumer desire.  Now I ask you: how much of this story is true?

Posted by matt at 02:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)