The chapalang* entry

Shopping was a bust. To get a much-needed 15% discount at Camper's Corner on the Geckos (aka Chacos in Singapore), I'll have to return another day with someone who can help me rack up the $200 bill minimum to qualify for the discount. Current likely candidate: Wahj, fresh out of reservist and all raring to go.

Hush Puppies --- also a bust. Shoes in question not as nice as I'd thought from a few days ago. Discovered a couple other nifty shoe stores in the Great World City complex, but while they had neat offerings, nothing leapt out at me with the conviction of Eureka! Ended up getting some functional things for the home: bread, candles, bleach (can those words be used in a sentence without writing an Edward Goreyesque tale of doom?).

Following the river down to Clarke Quay, the smell of the sea thickens near Alkaff Bridge. Before that, the air's nondescript: no smell of Zouk, of traffic, no human activity at all, really, till the Copthorne Waterfront hotel. Even the river is quiet, save for the regular susurrus of lapping water --- colourless, lifeless, boatless till a floating tourist trap buzzes noisily in a U-turn near Brewerkz. Alas, before that, approaching the Clemenceau Bridge underpass, the air's already choked with the indissoluble stench of pee. No wonder the foot traffic thins north of the bridge. My steps quickened, not because the underpass itself looked like a perfect locale for some horrific urban crime, but because I could only breathe through my nose for so long.

Beyond: civilisation, with its tourists and expats enjoying their beers al fresco. I must've looked so plebian in my This Fashion cutoffs and KFC paper cup.

Home: Jaws is on TV, which means I'm finally sitting through the film for the first time in my life. It helps that I'm catching up on blogs too, so I neither feel very suspenseful nor have I actually been squicked out by anything on the TV screen. (If you didn't know already, I'm a total wimp when it comes to horror films. Even as I recognise how truly lame Fright Night was, it nevertheless gave me sleepless nights when I was a teenager --- and might continue to do so should I stumble inadvertently into watching it again.) Jaws seems to have lots of macho conflict/angst going on, so maybe that's why it's not that scary (yet, I'd qualify). At this point, Dreyfuss et al seem to be having a more Old Man and the Sea/Moby Dick moment with the great white beast, rather than the stereotypical shark-bites-everyone-in-half scenes I was expecting.

Ruh-roh. The trademark Jaws soundtrack of impending doom just started up, plus Dreyfuss is in this flimsy-looking shark cage plus he just lost his spear! So I think I'm doomed.

To counter the horrid thoughts of dismembered Dreyfuss (or any other dispensable cast member), here's a Lord of the Rings link that I know will amuse at least some of my friends: Why did the (Middle-earth) chicken cross the road? (linked via By The Way).

Dammit, Tolkien-/Jackson-inspired mirth doesn't quite drown out all the screaming and blood on the TV screen...

* chapalang - local slang meaning everything/anything/a mix of all kinds of things.