The Birdsong Trilogy

A film by the talented Royston Tan.

Yesterday I found myself watching ' The Birdsong Trilogy' alone at Sinema Old School.

Passion

Betrayal

Forgiveness

All it took were a few paltry sentences, and just like that, you were floating. For the longest time now, you hadn't let yourself feel entirely happy. So much had to remain unsaid, unacknowledged, but somehow you could feel its tangible presence hovering in the spaces between your words, the feelings trapped permanently inside of you like a caged hummingbird. And so you told yourself, no one could ever quite compare.


" I've thought myself out of happiness a million times, but never once into it''- Jonathan Safran Foer

Sandcastle

Watched this a few days ago.

Singapore Biennale 2011

  Photo credit: Asyraf 

                                                                                                                   

Happiness is a warm gun

Last night, I went to watch The Observatory, a local alt-rock band, do covers of songs from the Beatles' White Album at the Festival Village, Esplanade Park. My favourite songs had to be ' Blackbird', ' Dear Prudence', ' I'm so tired', and ' While my guitar gently weeps'. The Observatory's take on the songs was probably twice as edgy as the original but their versions worked surprisingly well. The entire experience was really intense (but in a good way), almost religiously cathartic even.

A feeling of pure, unadulterated joy swept over me as the band continued to expertly weave a dizzying tapestry of music. At the end of a 45 minute set, they built up towards a blitzkrieg of sound, surging towards a frenzied crescendo, everything colliding into a perfect whole, imploding the senses, till waves of sound poured into my head, into my skin, over and over... Heartbeat accelerating, every atom of my body humming, nerve ends tingling with the sheer euphoria of listening to Beatles music being played live, I remember wanting so much to wrap that sensation around myself, to be surrounded by the wide expanse of inky black sky and grass and sharing that wonderful and intimate experience with total strangers, to remain in the here and now, feeling so much with every fibre of my being, thinking how amazing it was to be alive right then.

Always, that feeling of wanting, of being of want of something, but never knowing what exactly you were yearning for. ( "Desire is always cruel'') Insidious, surreptitious, it is burrowing its way into your skin, crawling into  the network of blood vessels, its sharp hooks latching onto the lining of the walls, feeding off on the fear, the hidden insecurities and inadequacies, the misplaced hopes and unanswered prayers, the buried memories and repressed emotions. It waits, biding its time. Waiting for that split second of hesitation, that moment of weakness, and then, like a predator sensing the opportune moment to pounce on its prey- it strikes.