The streets to palace

I walked in the nearly empty Telawi earlier, past three `tissue paper' peddlers outside McDonald's...the lady in tudung was asleep and the other two men looked straight ahead with eyes that see no sun and no colors...I felt very heavy and I wonder what was on their minds.

I came from Social, after watching the usual suspects from M played pool...after a relaxing session of mamak at Devi's, starting our break from rehearsals till January.

Moments like that, feeling of extreme helplessness envelops me and makes me doubt myself. What do you think about when you see them on the streets? The needy and the poor whom can't seem to elevate themselves off their existing social class?

But it can be inspiring too, to know how lucky you...we are where our daily worries include what to wear for that party, not having enough time to work out, how to deal with that sticky boss, client...

On that street earlier, I wonder where they sleep tonight while I know I have the luxury of a comfy bed and nice sheets, and the intellect to discuss poverty on my blog.

Charity is not about donating cash to them on the streets...it's about creating a system to eliminate poverty.

I'm not in the right state of mind for this now...it's a just a feeling I had.

Coming back to my matrix system, tonight's pool score was brutal...Justin had in him a power to put balls into smaller holes...pool table holes. Cindy vowed to take him down VERY soon, in a pool bar near you...look out for the duel.

In other news, I spent the afternoon garnishing my singing site with some scanned pictures of past productions...updating the CV with my last two gigs in the weekend...actually I had three gigs in one week, just this very special week.

If you have been reading here on this channel, you'd noticed that I have been trumpet-blowing more than usual. Guess it's my way of conditioning my mind that I'm my own publicist, marketing director, administrator, dispatch person, housekeeper, copywriter, stylist...

Yes, I sang in the palace on Saturday night while Russell Watson was singing his heart out in the open field of KLPAC. Three of us (Cindy, Choon Heng and I) got a gig commissioned by Howard Blake to surprise the man himself (HRH The Sultan of Selangor) at his private birthday do. We waited in the glorious hall of humongous paintings of the man and even larger mirrors (very convinient for checking your gown) for the dinner to finish so that we could jump in his face with that birthday song written for him.

While waiting around to be brought into the palace, we goffed around with funny poses...


Going through the guest list outside the dining hall was like reading a story book...names you want to remember and those you know. The number of celebrities spotted were proportioned to the total number of guests.

It was a great night of frock-watch too and now I know why certain local glossy mags couldn't capture great women in gowns like the ones I saw -- you need to attend a royalty event in the palace to see the action.

Lots of satin and silk, not much of chiffon action. Lots of very low back and not much plunging necklines. Lots of dyed and streaks of browns and blonds. Cindy and I gawked, watching two dainty women walking towards the toilet in two pairs of impossibly skinny stilettos. How do they balance all that dresses and hair on those heels?

When it came to the time to sing the surprise song, the un-amplified singing was drowned by the excitement of the crowd in the hall of possibly 150 guests. The Sultan stood in front of us with the music sheets presented by Blake himself, giving us glances every now and then in between flipping the pages.

Blake eventually hung out with us the rest of the evening we were there...

I guess it wasn't what I expected, it wasn't what Blake expected too...we imagined the hall quietened down while our singing soared in the high ceiling and ring well in the ears of well-fed guests. They did not keep very quiet but we carried on and finished the song in high spirits nevertheless.

Then I learned how to disco dance in my floor sweeping Zara gown, Cindy grooved in her shimmering Sonny San number...she is not short like me so her gown wasn't sweeping up the morning dew on the dance floor near the pool. We shared the dance floor with the entire troupe of International Miss Tourism who graced the function. The French rep was the only one who came up to Blake and thanked him for the beautiful music, she had grace and I adored her olive green suit pants with a dramatic floor length cape.

I wished I had more champagne. I drank my first too fast, was listening to Blake relating his how-I-make-it-in-composing that sounded like a perfect happy-ending movie. His story is inspiring and there's nothing better than having someone in real life who told you they made it by sheer determination...

Just keep singing, just keep singing.

That was just one gig on Saturday night. Look out for pictures later....

That's it for now...don't forget to think about how you can help eliminate poverty...and stop worrying over the bigger MPVs your friends are driving.