dam dam dum
(dec 10, 2002)

listening: sweetest decline beth orton
reading: the nanny diaries nicola kraus & emma mclaughlin


Well, just for keepsake's sake, because I don't think I'll ever get to do this again for at least a few more years, here's a rough breakdown of my Raya itinerary in Melbourne. (all times are approximates, you should know by now I can't be depended on when it comes to certainty)

Raya Eve
7.00 pm - wanted to check out Harlem Nights @ F4, live jazz offerings at this somewhat new bar, because we were intrigued by the flyer we saw a few days earlier. Flyer said band starts playing at 6 pm. We thought, "insane! Who would go to a jazz bar while the sun's still up?", so hey, let's go a bit late and get some dinner first. (you can see where this is going).

7.30 pm - still deciding where to go for dinner as we walked on. Tried to figure out where this F4 bar is. I, as to be dependably expected, each and every time, got both of us a little lost by picking the wrong street. Started to drizzle. Friend had a craving for pasta, but couldn't be arsed to walk all the way to Southgate in rain. Tried to look for this restaurant she's been in before, she couldn't really remember where, so mission was a failure.

7.45 pm - ah, goldmine! Found a nice little stretch of small restaurants tucked cozily in a small, hidden alley. Surprised I didn't know about this place before. Nice little band playing some kind of Latin/Cuban/whatdoIknow music, lovely ambience, and outdoor heating, of course. We sat next to a guy who had nothing but red wine (I think, was a bit dark, night is falling) and was reading Haruki Murakami and kept laughing smallishly (I know, inexistent word, smallishly. Just like the word inexistent. Heh. But yeah, sudden, drained, small laughs. I wouldn't call it sheepish.). We thought he was laughing at us with our Malay-English conversation (Malay to mengumpat all the Mat/Minah Sallehs around us, English for most of everything else), but after a while we just thought that maybe Haruki Murakami is a really funny guy. I should probably get his book.

8 pm - my salmon pizza looked good, her marinara sauce looked even nicer.

8.30 pm - Cuban/Latin music sounding even better. Thought we'd order coffee and just hang out here for a while longer. Guy next to us still laughing in small, unexpected spurts.

8.45 pm - outdoor heating is nice and cozy. Walking in drizzle to find F4 is its absolute opposite.

8.50 pm - finally decided that we should stick to our original plan.

9 pm - F4 turned out to be just a few doors away. Hah! Am excellent with picking streets. Went up, bar looked surprisingly empty. No live jazz band in sight. Was disheartened so decided to leave, but not before checking out their toilets. Flower petals in a squarish stone sink, with a tap at each corner! Were endlessly amused by ingenuity of sink. I wished I brought my digicam along.

9.15 pm - before we left my friend asked the guy at the entrance fee counter (pardon my lack of nightlife vocabulary) where's the jazz band. He said they started at 6 and have left at 9. Hmph. He said they'll start at 7 next week as 6 is, obviously, too early. He persuaded us to go back upstairs, he'd put on some funky music. We both (me and friend) agreed he was kinda cute. We both agreed he was also gay. With a name like Dominic, you gotta be, I guess.

9.20 pm - went back upstairs for said funky music. Funky music got funkier after a while, so it wasn't too dull. Drank overpriced Coke while SMS-ing almost everyone in my phone book Selamat Hari Raya.

around midnight - walked home. Got home. Friend had the sudden urge to crimp her hair. And mine.

Hari Raya
10.00 am - woke up in complete horror at the sight of atrociously frizzy hair. Shampooed and conditioned vigorously to remove any signs of last night's little experiment.

10.30 am - accompanied friend for her Christmas gift shopping. (I only realized the slight irony in this much later).

1 pm - got most things off her list but not all, even after covering almost all of Vic Mart, except the fruit sections. Glad Raya doesn't involve giving everyone in your family tree, close and distant, gifts.

2 pm - met up with a couple more friends, we were going to lepak and window shop at Chadstone for the rest of the day.

8 pm - sipping tall Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks.

8.30 pm - all went to my place to watch Angelina Jolie and Antonio Banderas getting it on, in various bemusing angles, in Original Sin.

So yeah, it was all fun. No one's dragging me to go visit some distant relatives we haven't seen in five hundred years. No relatives/parents' friends making weird eye contacts, alternating between me and my dad/mom, which could only mean, "when are you going to get her married off?". Also, first time in many many years, I think, that I didn't end up with some kind of food poisoning the first day of Raya.

Care to join me next year? Not the food poisoning bit, I mean.


Graduation ceremony this Friday. I'd much rather if they can just courier my degree in a tube, than this whole seemingly grandiose thing. Dad's a little pissed, I think, because they wouldn't let you get extra tickets this year since there are too many graduands. I only get three tickets, excluding myself. I have a little sister, little brother, Mom and Dad. That's four. One of them will be have to be spared the immense pleasure of watching me strut up the stage in this ridiculous gown and wait for me not to trip or something. Ah well, I doubt they'll fight it out. I'm certain my lovely, adoring, supportive brother will willingly offer, no, insist, that he stays at home and play Playstation so the rest of the family can enjoy the ceremony, even at his *loss*.

Just as well. Matter of supreme indifference to me. Although I think I'd like my parents to be there, for their own sake.

Hoo, graduating! No more school! Life as I know it will be different after this.

Just as well. Again, matter of supreme indifference. At least for now. Before I start shopping for new shirts.

Reintroducing someone who's been away long enough that she's almost unfamiliar -- my old uncaring, selfish self. Wait, that sounds a bit cold (although still true). Euphemise, euphemise. My old detached, indifferent self. Broken, but doesn't care much for glue. Or for much else. Post-raya resolution.

Here's hoping she'd stay for longer this time around, so we can have more fun, without all the annoying shards.


previous entry: ohm alone (december 1, 2002)