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A quick photo trip today yielded these shots. Ion Orchard:

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A conversation with colleagues today had them wondering how I afford the lifestyle I lead on the pay I receive. I am, after all, known to be fond of luxury: I rent my own apartment, take dance and sculpture lessons, use quality stationery, buy art, antiques, and concert tickets, and enjoy a generally comfortable standard of living. So I thought I’d write a few words to explain how it is that I do what I do.

First of all I’m pretty clear about what I choose to spend my money on: I rarely go shopping, and almost never buy anything on impulse. I avoid what I think of as the three invisible spending drains of the typical Singaporean lifestyle: books, clothes and travel, all of which seem to consume sizeable portions of my friends’ incomes. Instead I borrow books (I’ve got memberships at both the National Library and the NUS Library); rarely buy clothes (making sure that when I do they’re the best I can afford); and I hardly ever travel (though I am considering round-the-world travel in the future, since the cost of living in most places is much cheaper than it is here at home). That leaves me more than enough to spend on the things which truly matter.

Next there’s my fairly complex personal financial management system. I don’t agree with the penny-pinching advisors who say you should spend as little as possible and save as much as you can; I think wealth ought to be enjoyed, not hoarded. The true enemy isn’t expenditure; it’s wasted money. So without going into all the details, here’s what I do: every time my monthly income arrives the very first thing I do is transfer a fixed percentage of it to a long-term savings account. Then I set aside money for my fixed costs (such as rent, water, electricity, parents, phone, internet, gym, insurance, toiletries, and transport) and further deduct any accumulated credit card bills (paid in full every month). After that I set myself three allowances: a $20-per-day budget to cover all food and minor expenses (any leftovers get dealt with at month’s end, and any excess gets billed to the next few days’ expenditure); a fairly generous budget exclusively for coffee; and a modestly comfortable one for drinks and partying. Anything left becomes discretionary spending for unforeseen purposes (such as red packets for friends’ weddings). At the end of the month I take whatever’s left, split the sum in two, and send half to savings and half to a special luxuries account I maintain as guilt-free spendng money. Any windfalls that arrive (such as bonuses) get treated in exactly the same manner: half goes to savings, half to luxury spending. It all works out surprisingly comfortably in the end.

And contrary to popular belief, I do actually lead a fairly spartan life. I own comparatively few things, and just about every object in my home is there for a reason. Junk and clutter get mercilessly purged: if something’s collecting dust, I get rid of it. I’d much rather sell possessions than buy cupboards. That attitude helps me to focus my spending only on the things that matter, and even then I find I’m increasingly paying for experiences instead of things: pens and paper, good food, concert tickets, lessons. The true value of a man, after all, subsists in what he does, not what he owns.

with whom shall I parley for everlasting youth? — demons, or angels?

~|~

Up early, in the middle of the night, all outside dark. Writing. Times like this I’m glad to have my own place. Massive Attack playing on the stereo, fierce and insistent and melancholy; lights steady. Spent most of Sunday night settling various projects, went to bed early yesterday; and now I’m awake and enjoying the silence passing, drink in hand, books at my side. It’s good to have time.

I’m thinking of the kids tonight, the way they pour hours and hours into the things they do: rock climbing, dance, football. I’m going to hear the choir perform later; they’ve just taken second place in yet another international competition, over in Venice. All those hours of work, all that drilling, just for the joy of it; just for one perfect song, one perfect show. That, and the company of friends. The ephemerality of it, leaving nothing behind — perhaps a little sad, but beautiful.

Makes you wonder why they stop eventually, the way so many have. They do what they do in the glory and flower of their youth, while at the same time juggling studies, family, a million other things. Then all that suddenly gone, remaining just a memory, as they become yet another batch of someone else’s cubicle slaves; and slowly they start to forget.

I don’t want that future for them, for any of us. Those of us who make, write, sing, craft, play. I don’t want that future for musicians or sportsmen, for writers or speakers, for all their young dreams. There has got to be another way.

Just the way it is, I’ve heard it said. By parents, teachers, all the people who tell them what life is supposed to be like. When they’re young they’re supposed to focus on their studies. Once they graduate they’re supposed to suddenly find someone, get married, settle down, have children, devote themselves to raising families, sacrifice themselves to their jobs. Once in a while a binge of travel, the occasional night class, and shopping, endless shopping for things they neither want nor need. Forgetting all the magic of creation, the energy of now; all the way through to retirement, when the best years of their lives have passed them by, when all the power and fire and energy of their youth is gone.

I think this is bullshit. I don’t believe in any of it, will not sacrifice these children on society’s altar. I know that in the end it is not up to me, but even so — this endless sacrifice of generation upon generation — what’s it all for? Human life should be lived in the now, should be glorious, no matter who you are, where you are, no matter when. There has got to be another way. And I intend to find it.

It’s a quiet Monday afternoon, a school holiday, and Sigur Ros is playing on the radio; outside my window bright sun, blue sky, white clouds, wind. It’s been a while since last I posted, but now it’s time to start again, going down a different kind of road. I want to be out there, wind in my hair, sunlight on my skin, pavement firm beneath my feet as I stride through the streets of my city. Just a few quick notes now, a cup of tea, and I’ll go, out into the beckoning day.

I love the way tea smells when I lift the lid off the box, heady and sweet and rising in an almost palpable cloud of scent, insistent. Love the way light shimmers in the lacquer and porcelain, so deep, as if glowing from within. This, this is what a man should find time for no matter how busy, the things truly worth living for; just as a man should live his life the way he dreams, with never any apologies.

Another night is passing by now, slowly, so slowly I can almost feel the stars as they slide by in their great celestial sphere. The night moves slowly, taking its time, like a man in the evening walking his dog along a railroad track. I go to bed earlier now, lie in bed letting each thought settle, as each impression of the day finds its own shelf, its own drawer, and slides in. A new year. Another new beginning. Cool January breezes fill the streets outside. As one by one, in the buildings next to mine, the lights go out.

I try to fill my workspace with the things I care for; they make work that much more hospitable and pleasant (especially when you’re pulling late nights after everyone else has gone home!). So since I’ve already put up that picture of the wolf, here are a few more.

This is a little corner I’ve set up with all kinds of writing utensils. The large lacquer tray’s one of the sort used at Wacha (once my favourite Japanese restaurant, it has unfortunately since closed down). On it, starting at the upper left hand corner and going clockwise: a bottle of Aurora black ink; three J-series Esterbrooks from the 1950s, and a Lamy Safari (these pens do most of the work in the office); a pad of paper (a Teachers’ Day gift from a student); a little makie paperweight from Yamada Heiando; a small gridded Rhodia pad (I love their paper); and on it, a copper yatate (portable Japanese brush-and-ink holder) from the 19th century.

This painting’s next to it:

That’s an original painting of Couch Kelp by Janet Chui, from the book A Field Guide to Surreal Botany. I haven’t got room for a couch in my cubicle, so this will have to do.

And this old hawk is hiding in a corner behind the lamp:

It’s actually an old Japanese box that has seen considerable wear, and can’t really serve as anything more than decoration. But that’s a job it does very well.

More to come, when I get around to it…

I took up sculpture a few months ago, and am loving it. Here’re a couple of pieces I’ve made.

That’s the very first piece I ever made — a relief panel of a wolf. I cast this one in cement, and it’s been painted for a nice coppery look. Now it graces the corner of my desk at work, and helps hide rampant computer cables. I’ve gotten quite fond of it.

Here’s another one:

This plaster bust was based partly on a model and partly on imagination. I didn’t like the way the ears and hair came out, and so I’ve wrapped them in a kerchief. Anyway here it is next to a can of 100Plus and my little toolbox.

I’ve left it in the studio for now; I’ll decide what to do with it next week. My teacher insists it looks like me, though I don’t think so at all.

I hammered out this little pewter bowl at Royal Selangor’s School of Hard Knocks yesterday. I’ve given it a good polishing, and love the liquid way it catches the light — a cross between moonlight and mother-of-pearl.

The pendant in the bowl, though, is by far more interesting. It’s a little something I bought Amy M. for her birthday, a simple lapis lazuli rectangle mounted in silver. It looks absolutely beautiful round her neck. She wore it all evening. I think I’ve chosen well.

A little bit of craft work this weekend turned a bunch of old watch movements into whiteboard/fridge magnets. Here’s a photo of them stuck to my filing cabinet:

These all have shiny neodymium magnets mounted on their backs, and look good seen from either side. I’ve polished, but not over-polished them — I think a mild degree of patination adds character. They’re pretty strong!

When I’ve got a little more time I’ll take nice photos of them individually. Then to Etsy they will go!

何处同仙侣，青衣独在家。
暖炉留煮药，邻院为煎茶。
画壁灯光暗，幡竿日影斜。
殷勤重回首，墙外数枝花。

Where might you be, with your immortal companions?
Only your servant is home;
you’ve left herbs cooking on the warm brazier,
tea leaves brewing in the next courtyard.
The painted walls fade into the lamplight,
the flagstaff’s long shadow is slanting —
again and again I look round,
but beyond the wall, only flowers.