I pelt at your feet.
That your fragrance may envelope me.
That I may continually experience love.
Inside darkened alleys…
I pelt at your feet.
That your fragrance may envelope me.
That I may continually experience love.
Inside darkened alleys…
Photographs heals enmity as much as it can bring tears to one’s eye. At its extreme end, it can invoke anger and hatred.
“There is Information and misinformation overload everywhere, everyday, across the globe, in the internet and clearly, if one wanted to sieve the truth out from all the false news left suspended in the cloud, it is a futile hope because out there somewhere is the correct information you need with no clear indication of proper direction in sight.”
“I believe there is a God. Some believe there is Only one. Some thought there is none. And some believe there are many. And therein concludes our little, little differences which gradually piles up into centuries old feud. And in our quest to seek the all powerful invincible God who largely remains invisible and powerless in solving world calamities, we became divisive and destroy others who believe otherwise. If humans were born of God, why aren’t we exuding the all natural traits of love, peace, happiness and forgiveness inherited us? Not unless we came from dust as some believe- dust, being residues of all things destroyed. Hence, our destructive tendency.”
Awards were given in retrospect towards ones service, effort or contribution to a cause or many causes. Even if he insults you today , that has nothing to do with his past service, effort or contribution. And your award is given in recognition of that. Not anything else and definitely not because of allegiance.
Suppose we woke up to the chirping of birds, suppose we look out from our window and saw a beautiful butterfly fluttering inside our garden, do we just admire its beauty reflected in the resplendent morn, or do we ask the butterfly what is the significance of you appearing in my garden or what are you thinking about?
Therein is the distinction between two genres of artists. The aesthetists, who loves to paint pretty pictures with no necessity for reasoning , and the narratists, whose works beckon questions.
We idolize the wrong people, support the wrong people, then blame each other for the wrong decisions these people make.
Serious collectors wouldn’t buy artworks they have not seen. And they wouldn’t buy artworks to match their sofa neither..
At my age I have already lost control of my bladder. How do you expect me to control my libido?
“Auction houses are avenues for discards, a place to sell what has been forcibly taken off you, what which you yourself have outlived, what you have inherited and do not need, what which is rare and valuable which you have been coerced to part with and lastly, what which are dubious in which you try to gather provenance from- a convincing magic box to convert the authenticity of your personal property.”
If we place a woman inside a circle of men, each of them would be looking at her from a slightly different angle. That’s how art are being admired by different people.
If peace, love, happiness, good sex etc is so easily obtainable, then the word ‘desire’ can be erased from the English dictionary.
It is ok, if you don’t come from art schools, to make ugly art
but it is not ok, if you are from art schools. Kindly disembark.
“A few more floods and people will start thinking about owning homes in the sky. Not unless developers adhere to rules of law, the ruling government strictly enforces the rule of law, and everyone believes in the goodness of laws. Laws are not created for selfish intentions. Neither are they opportunities to fatten wallets.
If one displays passion in everything one does, and is aware of the consequences of one’s actions over others and the surrounding, we would all be safer no matter what catastrophe mother nature may bring us. The unfortunate mindset we have is one that is clouded with progress, richness, pride, comfort, selfishness , ego and vanity over common sense practicality.
Oh what the heck! This world will never solve itself. Utopianism will forever remain a distant cousin to us. Sad but true.”
Some people are born with exceptional talents. That’s the reason why I was made
to sweep the floor.
If you draw a whale, make it big.
Make my head turn from left to right when I’m looking at it.
Only then is it a whale.
A WHALE!
I can’t understand those so-called advocators of democracy and free speech going around suing others for libel and slander.
Every time you paint, you have to decide if you want it to be just another car or a Bugatti. Same function. But one has prestige.
Reunion is when you get up in the morning and tell your wife you are going to work.
Instead you go to your neighbour’s wife to make love to her.
Her husband comes and knocks on the door.
You go under the bed.
The husband enters the bedroom.
Feeling uneasy, the wife excuses herself to go to market to buy food items.
The husband takes advantage of the wife’s absence to call your wife.
Your wife quickly arrives and they make love.
Suddenly his wife who had excused herself to go to the market turned back halfway forgetting the list of food items at home and knocks on the door.
You’re still under the bed.
Your wife rushes to hide under the bed.
This is REUNION.
(Author Unknown)
If an art collector decides to hold a show of his collection at a gallery of his choice, that does not make an artist whose works are included into the show, the collector’s artist, gang or people. Neither does the representation of that artist automatically belongs to that gallery by virtue of the artists work being shown there, beit one or ten.
When you make everyone the cook there’s no one left to complain that the food is bad.
A young woman walks into an accountant’s office and tells him she needs to file her tax returns.
The accountant says, “Before we begin, I’ll need to ask you a few questions.” He gets her name, address etc.
And then asks,”What’s your occupation?”
“I’m a prostitute,” she says.
The accountant is taken aback and says, “That’s too gross. Let’s try to re-phrase that.”
The woman says, “OK, I’m a high-end call girl”.
“No, that still won’t work. Need something more acceptable.”
They both think for a minute; then the woman says, “I’m an elite poultry farmer.”
The accountant asks, “What does poultry farming have to do, with being a prostitute?”
“Well, I raised a thousand cocks last year?”
Accountant: “Brilliant !!! Poultry Farmer it is!!! And agricultural income is tax free!
(Author Unknown)
To understand the mindset of the Chinese women in particular, one must readily immerse themselves into the many customs, rites and rituals grilled into their thoughts since time immemorial. Collectively, the many do’s and don’ts made up what is known as traditions. And these traditions manifests as good moral behaviours exemplarily found only in the Courts of the Mandarins, Mandarins being people of higher social standing in the world of the Chinese. The whole world describes Chinese as purposeful and enterprising but unknown to many, to be born a women in a Chinese household was to be submissive, not even looked forward to. Heirs must be from the stronger sex and so is the throne.
In olden days China, Emperors are believed to have the mandate from Heaven to govern and rule. And ruled they did, as some of them make rules based on the teachings of anointed people of their times such as Confucius, Lao Tze and the Lord Buddha. Buddhism eventually became a revered religion of the Emperors that spreads its roots from India to the Far East before it was brought to the archipelago of what is today known as Southeast Asia. In Southeast Asia, Buddhism is a tripartite cocktail mix with Confucianism and Taoism. And with religion came steep must-dos and morbid forbids submissive believers adhere to. Some good, others extreme, whilst others are purely bizarre. And with each dynasty, rules bend according to the wishes of such anointed rulers. Some ruled by brawn, others with their brain. Many loyal subjects followed their ruler’s belief, and the rites and practices that goes with it.
There is this age old tradition that womenfolk born into Straits Chinese households of yesteryears are never allowed to straddle beyond the confines of the family home, until the day she marries. They don’t get to go to school because that’s the privilege of the menfolk. So her early childhood education is stifled and fate depended on the matriarch, the maître d’ of the household (who is usually the most senior womenfolk) who taught her rudimentary skills like mannerism and conduct according to the revered teachings of Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism, rituals, customs and traditions, grooming, seaming, cooking, and cleaning the once fashionable extended family home where three generations of the same family purportedly lived together in a perpetual cyclic motion till fate and time decides the future outcome. All in the course of preparing her to be a commendable maiden for a fleeting finale, to be given away in holy matrimony to a suitor she never had seen nor knew of.
And thank god for the trendy middle courtyard that lungs the passageways, she could play and mingle with her siblings and cousins day and night amid some greenery besides catching the occasional glimpse of the moon, the cold breeze, and the pelting of rain. Not forgetting the daily updates from gossips happening in and out of the kitchen to revitalise and work her sanity.
Womenfolk in the Straits Chinese household never get to choose their own husbands. And so is her wedding date and other preferences. They are the domesticated party to the nuptial agreement by virtue of tradition while the menfolk were encouraged to work hard for a living and raise his own family. Everything is adhered to, in strict century old traditions and rituals of which by now she is routinely acquainted with and her suitor, like an unwrapped gift, comes with surprises and add-ons depending on her luck pre-assessed by her own three generations of extended family headed by the matriarch, after bouts and bouts of cordial discussions between both families with a marriage broker (Mui Lang Po) as their intermediary.
To look for a Chinese wife, the menfolk would cluster themselves along the roadsides and riverbank ready to catch a glimpse of the most likely love interest who would during Chap Goh Meh (or the Fifteenth Moon of the Chinese Calendar), arrive in a motorcade to participate in the quaintest ritual of all- an annual courtship gala of throwing Mandarin oranges (Tim Kum) into the river or sea which is believed to attract blessings of a good marriage for the maidens and likewise for the menfolk who threw apples (Kor) for the same reason- to find a good wife. Once a year, these womenfolks would be heavily coiffured and decked in the finest of jewellery where they were given permission to leave their homes in lure of the pearl of great price. And these Chinese Cinderella’s do not dare leave their slippers behind. Chastity is of great importance and honour to the Chinese household (hence the roasted piglet adorned with a paper-cut tail on the offering table!) what more they must be proven on the wedding night or the menfolk can revoke their consummation if found to be in the contrary. Thus, there is no better way than to keep them in the safe confines of three generations of walking cctv’s than to expect unruly things from happening to a maiden before she got married.
Upon spotting his chosen candidate, the man would then return home and express his love interest to his own family who would then hire a marriage broker (Mui Lang Po) to investigate the maiden’s family background and demands before pairing them up. If fate were to be cordial to them.
Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism rituals reigns thick in these households beginning from the early migration of the Chinese to the southern hemisphere until the late sixties. Therefore the practice of honouring and respecting the elders not forgetting appeasing the spirits of bygone ancestors is encouraged to ensure abundance of blessings to come. These believes and practices were then handed down the generations and faithfully re-enacted year after year.
Where taboo is concern, misfortunes and the mere mentioning of the word ‘death’ was frowned upon by the Chinese. That said, the rites and rituals of appeasing spirits is common place. Thus the Chinese All Souls Day (Cheng Beng) is marked by tomb cleansing, paying homage and a family get together.
These practices continued till the modern day for some families but as the months and years passes by, succumbed by the British Colonialists who took a stranglehold of our motherland, many traditions and customs were gradually weeded out. Not by the British but by the inquisitive repatriators. Progress took on new forms. Dwellers became more liberal. And in came concerns and fairer treatment for the fairer sex.
Nowadays, Chinese womenfolks can finish school, choose their own husbands, travel and as the larger extended family homes became more and more expensive to maintain, each family went their own way leaving behind derelict mansions being consumed by weeds and undergrowths. Whilst some prefer to stay out of town, there are those who strive for a living in the bustling city. There is no longer the once landscaped courtyard that embellishes a family home and a compound of today is no bigger than five strides both-ways. Many of these womenfolk now has the privilege to travel West and as a result, many exchange their wooden clogs and embroidered sandals for stilettos. Many of these privileged womenfolk intermarried with foreigners and never came back.
However, for those who do, many converted and eventually gave up Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism practices. But at the back of the minds of these neophytes stood subconscious moral teachings and observations ingrained into them since time immemorial. When they returned, they too hardly break these laws in front of their elders for fear of being beaten, chastised, or estranged. In consolation, they would assure themselves that these are the customs of the Chinese which has nothing to do with their own belief at all. These includes the annual celebrations of Chinese New Year and All Souls Day. And chastity was surprisingly still a big hit till the early seventies.
“Every collector loves a good bargain but when an auction house creeps into that mode thinking collectors will flock into their establishment rather than galleries because of commission per se, you can be pretty sure they’re going to have trouble getting consignments not unless these are pretty desperate consignors or artists. There are many reasons why goods ended up in auction. In the plainest sense, auction houses are dumping grounds for discards. Don’t believe me? If I ask you for a consignment, would you be consigning the best out from your collection? So the key failure in local auction houses is too low a commission which antagonizes the galleries as well as consignors, too relax a scrutiny in determining good works from the mediocre, too little a knowledge in art which as a result, many undeserved works ranks higher above some better works and lastly, too frequent a momentum that floods the entire scene with collectors being spoilt for choices therefore the frequent lukewarm response. It’s a lousy disorder partly determined by market manipulators which many a time believe me, the auction houses has no control of. But if they do, it’s best to avoid them and let these dubious auction houses die a natural death. Lastly, it is gross misdemeanor for auction houses to pretend to be an authority in a subject they are unfamiliar with. And that’s the sad state of our local art auction houses!”
A young boy goes off to college.Half way through the semester,having foolishly squandered all his money, he calls home.
”
Dad” he says, “You won’t believe what modern education is developing! They actually have a program here in our institution that will teach our dog, Jack, how to talk!”
“That’s amazing,”his father says. “How do I get Jack in that program?”
“Just send him down here with $10,000″ the young boy says ” and I’ll get him in the course.”
So his father sends the dog and$10,000.
About two-thirds of the way through the semester, the money again runs out.The boy calls home.
“So how’s Jack doing son?” his father asks.
“Awesome, dad! He’s talking up a storm,” he says, “but you just won’t believe this — they’ve had such good results they have started to teach the animals how to read!”
“Read ??”says his father, “No kidding! How do we get Jack in that program?”
“Just send $20,000, I’ll get him in the class.”
The money promptly arrives.
But our hero has a problem.
At the end of the year, his father will find out the dog can neither talk, nor read.So he shoots the dog.
When he arrives home at the end of the year, his father is all excited.
“Where’s Jack? I just can’t wait to see him read something and talk!”
“Dad” the boy says, “I have some grim news.
Yesterday morning,just before we left to drive home, Jack was in the living room, kicked back in the recliner, reading The Economic Times, like he usually does.
Then Jack turned to me and asked, “So is your father still having an affair with that pretty lady Rachel who lives down the street ?”
The father went white and exclaimed, “I hope you shot that son of a bitch before he talks to your Mother!”
“I sure did, dad!
“That’s my boy!”
The kid went on to law school and is now a politician.
(Author Unknown)
A philosophy is the objective that leads you to your desired result. Without that and you’re nothing but a hovering blind bat.
Many a time I find myself searching for the eyeglass perching on my nose. It’s like couples. When they get too close to each other, many a time they couldn’t see nor feel each other’s presence or existence anymore.
A woman who has no high regards for her man shouldn’t marry him for that’s the same reason she’s going to divorce him in the end.
When you get a prick to write an art article, the end result is usually some pee to rinse your mouth with or a feel good screw.
Joe suffered from really bad headaches for the last 20 years.
He eventually decides to go and see a Doctor.
The Doctor said, ‘Joe, the good news is I can cure your headaches.
The bad news is that it will require castration.
You have a very rare condition, which causes your testicles to press on your spine and the pressure creates one hell of a headache.
The only way to relieve the pressure is to remove the testicles.’
Joe was shocked and depressed.He wondered if he had anything to live for.
He had no choice but to go under the knife. The surgery cost him $15,000.
When he left the hospital, he was without a headache for the first time in 20 years, but he felt like he was missing an important part of himself.
As he walked down the street, he realized that he felt like a different person. He could make a new beginning and live a new life.
He saw a Men’s clothing store and thought, ‘That’s what I need… A new Suit.’
He entered the shop and told the salesman, ‘I’d like a new Suit.’
The elderly Tailor eyed him briefly and said, ‘Let’s see… size 44 long.
Joe laughed, ‘That’s right, how did you know?’
‘Been in the business 60 years!’ the tailor said.
Joe tried on the suit it fitted perfectly.
As Joe admired himself in the mirror, the salesman asked, ‘How about a new shirt?’
Joe thought for a moment and then said, ‘Sure.’
The salesman eyed Joe and said, ‘Let’s see, 34 sleeves and 16-1/2 neck.’
Joe was surprised, ‘That’s right, how did you know?’
‘Been in the business 60 years.’
Joe tried the shirt and it fitted perfectly.
Joe walked comfortably around the shop and the salesman asked, ‘How about some new Underwear?’
Joe thought for a moment and said, ‘Sure..’
The salesman said, ‘Let’s see….. size 36.
Joe laughed, ‘Ah ha! I got you! I’ve worn a size 34 since I was 18 years old..’
The salesman shook his head, ‘You can’t wear a size 34. A size 34 would press your Testicles up against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a Headache.’
(Author unknown)
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