Bye Bye, Band. (Again.)

I mentioned to a certain Jonathan Jacob that I felt rather ‘Remains Of The Day‘ at the end of six years’ service. I suppose it’s only really just six years (compared with half of Stevens’ lifetime), but the last six years have felt like way more than a third of my life.

Here, at another ending, I haven’t quite decided what to feel yet. Or, as I mentioned to a friend, I haven’t figured out if ‘congratulations’ is quite the right word. I suppose at the end of something that has seen me become more myself and more alive, the end feels a little like death; maybe that’s why ‘congratulations’ seemed like a strange word to hear.

At this point I’ve spent as much time on reflection as I can allow myself. There’s work to do.

Grace

(The queue outside Max Brenner’s.) Every minute we waited in line brought us closer to 10:45. Even so, the temptation of chocolate was strong. But chocolate consummation seemed as far away as ever, and we were beginning to anticipate something far sweeter. So, we left.

*
(Stage door, stage right.) We arrived in time to stand by him before he went out to receive the award on our behalf. I would have liked to be able to say that my hug meant, ‘Do or die, whatever happens, I’m proud to have done it with you.’ But really, I can’t be sure of what I meant, or if I meant anything at all. Then he had to leave, and we were left with our anticipation and each other.

*
(Stage door, stage right. 4 minutes on.) I think even the chocolate would have been unbearably bitter.

*
(Passenger seat, lorry.) “How? Win?” “Nope.” “看你们的态度就知道。” Were we that obvious, Ah Sam? My halting Chinese was inadequate to the moment, so we talked about nothing-things on the drive home. When the ride ended, the silence had shrunk, and I was alive enough to be grateful.

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I suppose this is a coda.

 

1. How can I blame the circumstances when I would only truly have been happy if the circumstances had been overcome? To blame the circumstances would be to have been defeated by them. (Even the rules of English grammar make looking back difficult!)
2. Could I have done better? ‘No’ would be a lie, and ‘maybe’ and ‘probably’ really mean ‘yes’. Yet “we cannot live hating ourselves”. Those are the words of one of my heroes. I’ve often thought about them, but last night, for the first time, I felt the force of the profound compassion behind them. It was something I needed, and something I want to share.

Hotaru (Fireflies)

The night we went to see the fireflies near the stream, I thought to myself, ‘There aren’t many places like this.’ That might not be even remotely true, but then I suppose the dark and the quiet are felt more than seen, or heard. To be sure, the dark and quiet are things I’ve not often felt in their profundity; I suppose living in the city means living with the opposite: light and noise.

The water and the trees and the cricket-sounds were almost familiar, except that we weren’t in the tropics. 16°C was bliss, and I didn’t have to worry about any flying insects other than the ones I wanted to see. And what a sight they were.

I heard someone consider (out loud) composing a poem. Another someone actually obliged, out loud. I remember hearing something about stars, but I also remember thinking they were more like heartbeats. The lights would go on for a bit, fade off, and turn on again, at intervals as regular as heartbeats are regular. (Which in my mind isn’t all that regular.) But now I think it’s more like breathing. Which, I realize, is necessarily momentarily irregular when you start to think about it. So, I won’t think about it.

(Excuse me while I turn off the light and noise.)

The Air I’ve Breathed In

The first half or so of the Japan tour was spent in Fukui, while the latter portion was spent in Osaka. Fukui is definitely countryside, while Osaka is strictly city. (In Fukui, we slept in futon (futons?) on tatami floor, while in Osaka we had regular hotel rooms.) As for myself, I’ve lived in the city of Singapore all my life. But strangely enough, I didn’t feel like I had to ‘adjust’ to life in Fukui at all. The main, and obvious, reason for this is that Fukui is in no way backward, the resort was comfortable, and our hosts went out of their way to make it comfortable. The food was good (the fresh vegetables are awesome), there was onsen (hot spring), and futons are definitely one of the most comfortable ways to sleep. On the other hand, on reaching Osaka, things felt fundamentally different. I could literally smell it in the air and taste it in the water. Did I mention that the air and water in Fukui are (no other word for it) pristine? (It’s also probably one reason the vegetables taste so good.) Certain things about the city were familiar, like streetlights and shopping streets and cafes and restaurants (I was struck by how much our hotel was like a hotel, right down to the breakfast coupons), but after Fukui, being in Osaka felt a little like being out of tune.

Arriving in Singapore still felt like coming home, though. Even though it was something like 1 in the morning after we were done wrapping things up at school, I opted for supper at the old train station with my dad and Ismail rather than home and sleep. I had mee goreng and teh halia.

But, ah, for some Fukui air!

Vending Machines in Japan

It is very difficult to find a building without at least a few vending machines in it in Japan. They are everywhere. Prices seemed to be standardized everywhere we went, except in Universal Studios Japan, but then I hate that place anyway.

I don’t think anyone on the tour encountered a single faulty vending machine. They all seem to operate perfectly. Pushing coins in rapidly immediately after you get one drink doesn’t seem to work either. The coins just get rejected. I don’t think you can not use the machines in a proper manner, even if you’re rushing.

Almost all the vending machines I considered were reassuringly clean. The only exception was the one I found at a park, but then again sand in the drink drop is almost inevitable when the machine is in a park in summer and there are children at play.

I got almost all my tea and coffee from vending machines while in Japan. Unlike canned or bottled tea and coffee in Singapore, in Japan they don’t see the need to over-sweeten everything. You can quite clearly taste the tea or coffee, which was a welcome change from always tasting just milk, chocolate and sugar. Kirin Royal English Milk Tea made quite an impression on me. (Also on the percussion section, as I later found. They liked their teh ping bo ping too. I didn’t come up with the name.) The tea actually seemed to have flavour. The same goes for the coffee. I don’t remember any particular brand, but they all seemed good. Not overly sweet or milky. And there were none of those short, thin cans we get in school either. There was even decent canned black coffee.

Canned Coke in Japan also tastes better. Supposedly. But then I wouldn’t bet against the people who claim it; they’ve been Coke fans all of their long lives. Perhaps it has something to do with the water, or the fact that the people who service the machines are very particular about having the drinks in the machines for no more than three months.

Almost all bins in Japan are for a specific variety of trash, and there is always a bin specifically for emptied drink containers next to a vending machine. The openings for the containers are circular, which only allows you to put the container in head- or bottom-first. Often, there are separate bins for PET bottles, cans and a general-purpose one, although ‘general’ here still means ‘empty drink container’. Sometimes, the caps from plastic bottles have to be removed first and disposed separately. This all seems quite bothersome at first, especially when you don’t know Japanese and have to interpret the symbols, which isn’t as easy as it sounds since a PET bottle is not exactly easily differentiable from a regular one. But then there’s a sort of satisfaction from identifying the type of trash you have and matching it to the exact opening it’s supposed to go into. There’s actually a right answer! But now that I think about it, I remember my young cousins playing with toys that involve matching shapes to openings or indentations. I suppose the feeling is similar.

The prospect of buying a drink from a vending machine in Japan is a worry-free one. The machine is clean, and it will work perfectly. There’s nothing to think about from the time your money goes in and the time the drink is in your hand, with the exception of your choice of drink. And after you finish your drink, the procedure for disposing the emptied container presents itself. Perhaps you could call this the vending machine experience. Even as I say it I am somewhat incredulous at the impression Japanese vending machines seemed to have made on me. Vending machines the world over are pretty much the same, but maybe the little things really do make the difference. Or maybe everything about the concept and the way the machines are operated and maintained just seems Japanese in my mind.

I have been referring only to vending machines for bottled or canned drinks, but naturally in Japan there are vending machines for loads of other things. The ice cream vending machine at our accommodation in Fukui was quite popular. There’s usually a wall of a few vending machines in a row at a typical convenience store, selling drinks or noodles or hot meals or other things I don’t remember.

Bye Bye, Band.

Ready For It

It is five long, long days of practicing, packing, planning and panicking. I slept from 5:30 to 8:30 yesterday, meaning I’ve been up sixteen hours on three hours of sleep. Maybe that’s why I am only registering one memorable event at camp. But the scene was hilarious. It was the second day, the rain was coming in veritable torrents, and the classrooms we were sleeping in were flooding. Our dorms were on the fourth and fifth floors in the old building. I rounded the corner on level three and the classroom block came into view. People were bailing water over the corridor railings like the ship was sinking. It was terrible, and terribly funny. From the weather over my house, I think the school may have been flooding again tonight.

I’m finally packed and ready to be off, and as for the performances, ready or not, we’re off in a few hours. It’ll be eight more days away from home and I hope they’ll be worth it. Thanks for the love and well-wishes. Goodnight.

Last Camp!

And tomorrow morning I’ll be checking into my last ever band camp. I’ve never actually counted before, but tomorrow will be my 17th camp. After this camp, I’ll have stayed about 53 nights in school for band camp alone. That’s fifty-three nights of sleeping bags on floors/chairs/tables (clearly progressive), playing hearts/bridge/gamecube/stepmania/LAN (there’s a vague progression here too), and vitasoy/milo with supper (a constant). And I haven’t had a camp where time felt shorter. This is an unfamiliar feeling. The other thing I’m feeling is more familiar. I’m hoping it’ll be a great camp for a great performance/competition/tour. But this time I wonder if desperation is urgent-feeling hope, which is what I’m feeling now.

Dream Band

It’s a notion that’s idealistic and seemingly only good for disappointment. Or maybe idealism is powerful but whatever, right?

I have this to say about time in band: frustration comes with the territory. Slightly sad, slightly true. I could even say it’s a steady part of the diet. To say that I’m hardened to it wouldn’t exactly be wrong either; I’ve felt frustration, and I still do, but I feel it less, if only because I feel like a lot of it has happened before.

But this is not a post about handling frustration. It isn’t even a post about idealism, or the futility or lack of yours, because I don’t think it’s futile and I think everyone is in some way idealistic about the things they’ve put themselves into. Do you not think things could be better? And, if I asked, ‘Are you going to do something about it?’ I think I would know the answer. I guess one thing I might wonder about is whether you’re going to let yourself get sidetracked from what you would want to do; I know you know how that happens.

I’ve taken a long while to get to the point, although I would say the ‘point’ is more of a personal feeling. I guess that means it’s not an admonition or anything. My dream band is where I am now.

Whatever I might feel frustrated or discontent with, the whole point is that where I am is where I am, and that there’s really quite a lot I can do to make where I am something better. It’s not about not having a choice, although if I wanted to feel that way I think I could choose to do so. Also, I feel that in many ways our band is already kind of a ‘dream band’ in the dream-y sense of the word, because it’s where the music is, and for me, if there’s at least that, it’s dream-worthy. Also, I honestly feel like it’d be a real challenge to find another group of musicians with such naturally good ears. I already know sound-wise, things are not going to get much better in my near future unless I go play professionally. Musically- and technically-speaking, it’s another matter altogether, but then that’s mostly because we’ve been lazy fucks.

It’s only slightly over a week before we take off. I’d be lying if I said I’m not even slightly worried.

Band Fest + Concert

It’s a few hours ’til JC band fest performance tonight. I’m at Pacific Coffee Company now waiting for the other band people to arrive for lunch. The place is empty except for staff and 1 other non-band person.

On the program tonight for honor band:

1. Festmusik Der Stadt Wien (Festmusik for the state of Vienna I think) by Strauss
2. 1st Suite in Eb by Holst
3. Der Traum Des Oenghus (The dream of Oenghus I think) by Rudin
4. El Camino Real by Alfred Reed
5. His Honor (March) by Fillmore

I think it’ll be pretty cool, but I’m expecting to see more people I know at tomorrow’s Christmas Classics and the band concert on 26 December.

Band fest has been fun. My playing improved progressively from the first day, partly because my sound was terrible on day 1. Lunch and practices and breakfast and dinner were rather entertaining, with the slightly deranged band people. Our conductor (he’s Italian) is also excellent.

As can be seen, GVL increases during band fest. Despite us being west of Boon Lay. There’s sound from instruments (the cymbals and bass drum stand behind me!), and also increased use of vocal chords (singing and shouting and the like).

I’m on a pre-perf high now. It’s partly caffeine-fueled. There’s foam on my lip now. Hopefully it’ll be matched by an even better post-perf high. That would mean it was a good one.

Edit: Post-Perf

It’s past midnight, and I’ll be at Singapore Art Museum at 10 a.m. tomorrow, assuming I’m punctual.

The post-perf high was not bad. I don’t regret missing ‘blockbuster Sunday’ at all. (I should clarify: not the Channel 5 one, but the Liverpool-ManU-Arsenal-Liverpool one.) Performance definitely could have been better, but good nonetheless. Also, perhaps next year’s band fest (tentative) should take into account EPL football schedules to (marginally) improve ticket sales.

Today I realized my performance average this year will be once in 2 months, and more if I consider my ATCL recital.  There’s 2 more, Christmas Classics tomorrow and band concert after Christmas.

I’m going to get some sleep.