Crank Up The Cranky.

This cat has nothing to do with anything.

As I get older, I find myself scheming up new ways to continually extract myself from whatever public eye real estate I’ve managed to accumulate over the last few years. Maybe I think too highly of myself, and I wonder if anyone would reach out and say hello if they noticed I wasn’t around. I’m not saying that I’m an island, but as I soak in the complacency that I’ve slowly kneaded for myself, I realise that I’m happier with not being “seen” anymore. I’m not really fighting to plant a little flag in your mind. I’m putting a minimum on really giving a shit.

I’m much happier storming up in silence.

It’s strange that the self-anointed figurehead for a shitty little indie band would not want notoriety, but it’s nice working from home, going for a run, eating healthy food, petting the cat and playing video games. Maybe I think too highly about all the things I’ve accomplished, and I unjustifiably feel that I’ve called time on things, and that I’m comfortable with riding into the sunset with nothing left to do.

Maybe, to an extent, I’ve had quite enough of overthinking the complexities of people, their motives and their clear lack of empathy.  Maybe I’ve been working with social media way too long. Maybe I deserve to be left behind in the dust.

I’m 35 years old. I’ll probably be dead in 30 more, and I don’t want to waste time trying to be cool compared to just being honest. I want to learn to do things within my means and my way, even if it leaves me looking very much like someone in need of some Laverland Crunch.

I have to admit, I’ve never had Laverland Crunch before.

I don’t know if I’m just mellowing out, or if I’m an anachronism.

Time will tell.

The Catch-Up Game.

A lot – and I do mean a lot – has happened in the last two years. The Malaysian indie scene has grown by leaps and bounds, with more and more acts popping up all over the country’s enclaves. I’ve grown by leaps and bounds as well (literally), and I’ve been relentlessly open micing and gigging around town. I’ve found myself willing to play almost anywhere, to anyone who’d have me — and it’s been fun.

Since then, the music side of things has been more of a solo escapade than a group outing. But I’ll be backed up by a triumphant threesome for my next featured show at Merdekarya, which coincidentally falls on my birthday.

(It’s not that coincidental.)

For the time being, please enjoy this piece of video.

Cutie And The Boxer

Cutie And The Boxer


I’m not a purveyor of good taste, but I really do encourage you to watch Cutie And The Boxer if you haven’t done so yet. The documentary shares the life of Noriko and Ushio Shinohara, a married couple of over 40 years who are celebrated, but struggling, artists in New York City. Ushio is 80, and has been residing in NYC since the early 70s, while Noriko was the young, impressionable art student from Japan that he seduced and made his conquest.

The film highlights their life as a couple, while also tracks their constant challenge to survive as artists today. Noriko’s tale is the true heart of the story, as she recounts her dreams of becoming a full-fledged artist, only to have them take a backseat due to unexpectedly becoming a wife and mother. Old documentary footage featured shows Ushio to be a very volatile, irresponsible figure when he was younger – and it gets relatively sadder, as his maverick, devil-may-care artsy attitude threatened to tear away at what little they had.

Luckily, things end of a high note – despite the pitfalls, Noriko and Ushio truly belong together. He obviously NEEDS her, and the tables have turned for quite some time, as she’s more than wisened up on how to keep her brilliant, yet troubled, husband in check while fulfilling her own ambitions.

Cutie And The Boxer shows that mad, self-anointed geniuses out there never truly carry the brunt of their burden – they leave the heavy lifting to those closest around them, who sometimes have no choice but to be obligated to do so. It’s proof that you can always find strength and resilience in what you do if you love it enough – in this case, Ushio and Noriko agree that art would bind them. The obstacles they faced were a lifelong struggle – not just a momentary whinge or speed bump.

I’ve been craving to see this ever since I first saw its preview, and I’m more than glad I have. (It also boasts a strangely devilish end credit sequence.) It’s beautifully shot, and doesn’t feel like it’s cliche-filled with false nostalgia. This is a genuine love story that everyone can be inspired by.

In part, this is also a shoutout for those women who stand by their (somewhat cranktankerous) men. And it might make the men a wee bit more appreciative of their better halves (if they’re not so already).

“Love is Roar-r-r-r!”

Give it a shot.

There Is No 30!

I am an overgrown man-child. I take a look at all my friends, and they’ve accomplished so much, while I’ve somehow managed to regress back into a bum who stays at home to earn his dollar.

Sadly, everyone else is envious of me, and I have to admit – I can understand why.

But as I move further forward into the foreboding future, I’m still wondering if I can really live up to my own expectations for what my future holds.

I’m waiting on the grey hairs to start pecking me.


11,200,000 results, just for me. Awwww.

Hitting up “Ian Tai” on Google brings up an interesting list of possibilities. Have you ever thought about who those other people who share your name are? Where they work? Who they live with? If they like alphabet soup? If they’re allergic to cacti?

Would you ever be bothered to know them? Or at least get the full skinny on what makes your namesake tick? On a hunch, I’m going to assume that the Ian Tai in San Francisco has a lot more fun than I have in sleepy Kuala Lumpur. And I’m going to ask him. I’ll also attempt to track down a more illustrious Ian Tai who knows his gold, just for fun. [And I might request that he gives me his URL.]

Maybe, in the due process, I can get to know myself better through the people who know themselves best: me.

Just a thought.