Life is a rhetorical question.

2010! A new Year

2010-03-24T07:14:00.000-07:00

The new year benchmarks new patterns, ideas, thoughts and habits against a backdrop of new relationships and explorations.

My foray into pet photography has always seen itself as an expression of my passion for animals and cats especially. The feline attraction has resulted in a large collection of photographs that I store as a reminder of their physical beauty and intense sophistication as animals.

The Aesthetic we call beautiful continues to amaze me, as I extend such professional photographic services to people. These new images were taken for Sunny's lovely family.

On more solemn notes, I continue to delve into photojournalism as a study in itself, Observation a key aspect in such exercise. The following are a sample of my recent trip to Guangzhou, China, amid rising unemployment. Commercially I also extend my services to the local press as well as apply this in my general photographic approach.

Douglas Ho (何家俊)
douglas_ho@hotmail.com

Retrospection

2009-10-28T12:21:00.000-07:00

Subtract the wit and intellect from the banter and you will hear the beast chanting away.

See alot, Learn alot

2009-05-17T01:40:00.000-07:00

Having nothing better to do other than entertain thoughts of travelling, doing chores for people with big houses for a small fee or climbing over condo walls to swim for fun, or visiting annabel's church, I decided to follow my brother jafakree to Bukt Panjang Plaza. he was helping a friend with a flat that needed to be showed around, so I waited at BPP and suddenly decided that if life was to have any meaning at all, I would humbly put into action a thought I had conjured up not too long ago.

What it must be to live until one is old and frail and to, only then, know! Surely old men know truths young men do not. I would cheat life today and be honest about it. It was a good time to communicate with fellow fish.

I came along Wang and Lim. For the confused and immersed slang-americanized Chinese and Asians, Wang is pronounced WH-Uh-NG not waaang.

By chance, that characteristic of life, I spotted him outside the Ah Wang Cafe benches alone, looking out toward the light from the shade. His skinny legs were crossed, his arms folded feebly. His weathered, haggard face and stained clothes beckoned me. I resisted, and walked around the locality, passing another elderly man doing his 4D lottery tickets. But I finally returned to Wang and his mid-level cataracts. Embracing the beauty of the connectedness of life in its entirety, I sat down next to him. I guessed that he was 70, he said up, up. I said 75 and he said 73. The eldest of a family of 4, two of which have returned to Old Heaven, he now lives alone without a family of his own. Apparently his wife and children left him for money, and this spurred the conversation along.

In ubiquitous singapore rojak of Hokkien Mandarin Chinese and English we began talking about life. Good and bad people could be differentiated by observation, and by the measures of whether they drank or smoked. I didn't tell him I had a cigar now and then, but we carried on. Bad people were gangsters, and they resolved problems by fighting. The best way, he said, was to take them in one ear, and out through the other, and ignore them, and befriend the good people, those whom one could tell by simply observing in silence.

I had met the nice guy, the street smart labourer and discerner, the observer, the survivor who stayed out of trouble and survived becaused he saw truth in having money in your pocket (put your hand on your pocket and feel the change) instead of its equivalent blowing away in puffs of smoke. He saw wisdom in spending money to eat, and drink, and knew the folly of indulgent alcohol and tobacco.

Lim came along about when Da Wang and I were talking about how expensive cigarettes and bus rides had become. I guessed 75, he said up, up, I said 78, he said 80. Lim is the son of the brother of Lim Bo Seng. He told me his greatest regret in life was not having spend more of his grandfathers fortune on holidays and treats, and not learning more Mandarin. He was English educated from a young age, and if he could, he would have studied further, and credited the occupation of the Japanese for this regret. We darted from topic to topic, talking about the war and how the Japanese were crazy and shot even those who surrendered, unlike the Americans who invented a lot of things and were compassionate not to bomb Tokyo but just blast Hiroshima. As a fortunate son his filial business line son supports him and fetches hm for meals now and then. I asked, and he told me Gui Hui died two years ago from cancer, a relapse from 5 years back. Did he still ache from her demise? No, this is life. Was she pretty? "Of course, I say yes, other people say no way! But of course I say yes; she's my lover!" Later, Da Wang left us.

Expectedly some intervals allowed me to share about myself. Lim saw my writing material and subtle scribbling, and commented to Wang that I had good writing skills. I elaborated that I had completed some studies in journalism and communcations, that I was a fortunate son with loving parents, but I was seeking wisdom and truth from old men. In some geniality he told Wang I was intelligent, and that I should go out and see the world; see alot, learn alot. Scrunching his wrinkled affable slim face Lim says life is very short, and time flies. Was it wise to pursue money in a doldrum life, I asked.

Of greatest importance in life? Health. Then, happiness, then money.

Of course, we talked about the too perfect government, the 100% perfect finesse of Lee Kuan Yew, and that a 50% perfect would have been OK too, albeit crediting him for what Singapore is today.

Would Da Wang still smoke and drink now, if he could?

Reflections

2009-05-11T02:40:00.000-07:00

Suddenly, I am washed over by an immense sickening, a condemnation of the extravagance and superfluous luxury and artificiality we have accustomed ourselves to. The realization does not slap me in the face but rather wells up like the spreading warmth of stiff liquor, only this time the sensation is intellectual.

And the pulchritude of things and beings glare at me with their overpowering duality, at times close enough to smell its decay. Yet simultaneously I am drawn to marvel at its sweet allure, its sheer beauty.

2009-04-11T04:50:00.000-07:00

the religion of humanity

the modern man is clever. he thinks. his thoughts help him believe in things he knows and feels are true, and the more he believes in them, the more they become true, and the more he lives by them, the more his beliefs assert themselves, and they permeate, and take form in defining courses of action, and speech, and thought, affecting and proliferating to his surroundings, to his friends, his people, and more so graduate to a lifestyle and then a culture of him. different religions form, different classes divide, different races inherently segment themselves, but there are salient similarities abounding in these differences, similarities that speak the universal tongue of love and truth and goodness and emotion-morality of sorts.

but what is the product of this? war and tyranny and rule and suffering? progress and advancement of technology and skills and economies? what undermines these beliefs and truths construed in convenience? is there an underlying truth, an undiscovered path in this forested, overgrown thicket? I want to see it

Cats

2009-03-28T09:48:00.000-07:00

I wonder what cats do.

Foreign workers (Singapore)

2009-03-28T08:23:00.000-07:00

They addressed him as 'ah-neh'.

It could have well been his name, but I never clarified. The earphones he wore were connected to his handphone, and for the duration I was there with them he talked on the phone. The two seated on the pavement spoke in their tongue. All I could understand was mention of 'Jacky' and that there was no lorry. Then the aquaintance on the bicycle pedalled off and they were left in their company. In brief dialogue ah neh told me he was waiting for a lorry to come. I didn't know if he had family of his own, if he was single, or anything else about him. I was merely civilian citizen to him; at best, an observer behind a camera.

To some, foreigners and their work here is an economic issue, a simple trade of demand and supply. To others, the condition is a 'social concern', somehow bolstered by imagery of clusters of them in open plains, or overcrowded buses on Sunday night, or just a different colour of skin.

To me, it was drama, unfolding, a wealth of subtle emotions that summated yet another echo of human pathos and comedy, somehow always found inextricably wound up together.

-outhere

Thoughts

2009-02-28T06:44:00.000-08:00

Explanations for explanations come to mind every time the latter comes to mind. It is part of what I think about each day. Sometimes it is the way people allow clothes to define themselves as opposed to allowing their selves to define the simple material worn. On other days it is the manner of life that people adopt, building impressions, innuendos, and messages around them the same way small talk is generated in big ways. When I was in Australia I asked myself and others around me why a female singer seductively carressed her body in a music video of a song about a failed and betraying relationship, and when I was in New Zealand, I thought about what a large, live body of nature would have to expound to a man in charge of a corporation.

There are also days when the watch reads evening and the sun sets and I feel scared. I try to register that fear as some sort of rational corrective measure kicking alive when I recall what the day in my consciousness qualified to, whether it was spent at the old studio of Charlie's earning an assistants wages, leaving home in the morning and catching the peak hour bus home with the sky that familiar beautiful hue of grey orange, or whether it was a boring day in camp doing seemingly mediocre things. The other time it was the protective foam my mum meticulously lined most of the wooden furniture in the house with. That also made me think about what qualified as "time alive well spent", or "meaningful". Sometimes it is like an overwhelming revelation of the importance of the present and the now, that burns a passion for life itself exuding from every action.

Then I realize that it seems to boil down to a value system of building a way of living in our lifetime. Or the need to consider the truth of love transcending prerogative, and to possess a want to love, in contrast to an imposed moral standard for an obliged gratitude for actions of kindness, or actions, at all. Or parents having and loving children for the sheer reason they want to have and love children. Or how religion binds and blinds but yet builds and bolsters.

So many thoughts, so tedious to post.

The Sunset

2008-11-02T17:28:00.000-08:00

Shreds of crimson purple span the outback sky, casting dull gray clouds westward. It is dusk, and what is left of the great sun dims away into a melt of grapefruit, yellow and clouds, taking with it murky powder blue ranges of the hills. As the skies merge into one, he heaves a fiery tamarind, illuminating the echoes of birds on the flight home, and shrubs whispering their raspy, unending narrative.

Nasi Padang

2008-09-27T12:18:00.000-07:00

Dark blood hues of thinly sliced, deep fried sambal tempeh entice only the bold; those who succumb find its savoury, nutty character a natural complement to its neighbour, the humble Tahu. Lavished with a crimson sheen of the familiar sweeter sambal often served in nasi lemak, the sambal tahu is an evergreen number that addicts its victims with the simple flavour of its soft, soy flesh beneath its fried, firm skin.

The Desire to Travel

2008-08-30T05:39:00.001-07:00

questioning questioning questioning

That there is so much more to know
so much more to hear
so much more to feel
so much more that one can
taste and see.
So, so much more.

The desire to explore things further and beyond,
to travel and experience the vast and deep
dreams of far-away lands and scenic skies
and dirt and grime
Pulsing, growing, ebbing, Living.

Call it discontent, the ingrate, Malcontent

The protagonist, and the antagonist

conflating thoughts and reality.

What is now,

has passed.

Looking forward to every new day.

The sparks of negativity- insulated, protected.

one year anniversary

2008-05-25T02:00:00.001-07:00

what exciting times it is

things moving,changing, Time playing Hide&Seek
love abounding

Songs singing, tunes playing
and things stay the same

money this money that
time ticking

cant stand it? sit on it
sit on it long enough and
time ticking

long bus rides, sleepy heads nodding
time ticking

guns ablaze, trees whispering
time ticking

relativeobjectiveselectivesubjective
time ticking

stand in stand out, gel wax fat bag
this or that this or that
mad fad bad ad
time ticking

irony paradox oxymoron
fathom wisdom condom martyrdom
time ticking

taking it too seriously, too easily
taking oneself too seriously
contemplate contemplating contemplation
time ticking

time ticking
time ticking
time ticking

-outhere

life and death

2007-05-29T03:44:00.000-07:00

It's been such a long time since I posted.

Today, in the classroom next to mine, a man fainted. He had no pulse. The ambulance took more than fifteen minutes to arrive.

I stayed to observe for a while.

On 198, home-bound, a mid-stage pregnant lady was seated opposite me. And next to her, adjacent, an infant nestled into her mother's arms.

I felt mixed.

2006-12-05T18:33:00.000-08:00

hello!

whats the use of a title?

2006-10-23T20:02:00.000-07:00

old, young, new, old. its the end of the beginning; the start of a new journey. J1 ends like the immense pleasure of watching crisp dry leaves flutter to the ground in the breeze, only to have its journey cut off the omnipresence of ground. or is gravity.

Made alive

2006-10-13T03:25:00.000-07:00

the last time you stood and felt the breeze on your skin? flowing, ebbing?
we free to feel the fresh life nuns and sages have?
is it?
within?
around?

not free, but to free others with free life.
naked and happy on green grass

Love song

2006-03-15T05:14:00.000-08:00

Don't go changing, to try and please me
You never let me down before
Don't imagine you're too familiar
And I don't see you anymore
I wouldn't leave you in times of trouble
We never could have come this far
I took the good times, I'll take the bad times
I'll take you just the way you are

Don't go trying some new fashion
Don't change the color of your hair
You always have my unspoken passion
Although I might not seem to care
I don't want clever conversation
I never want to work that hard
I just want someone that I can talk to
I want you just the way you are.

I need to know that you will always be
The same old someone that I knew
What will it take till you believe in me
The way that I believe in you.
I said I love you and that's forever
And this I promise from the heart
I could not love you any better
I love you just the way you are.

courtesy of Billy Joel

Poem

2006-01-27T02:00:00.000-08:00

Here's my first attempt at doing a poem. It describes a girl I met in my JC class this year.

Subdue my thoughts in your unconsciousness
Distract words with clarity
with plush, mature youth bubble craze me!
Severe me of negativity with your smiles
and in a frame, be you.

-outhere

B levels

2006-01-20T07:26:00.000-08:00

today was class outing for p21 of YJC first intake. I decided to bring my PnS along and let it once again churn out noisy pictures for me. nevertheless there were surely some real keepers.
i personally did bond with some of the classmates, did some small talk, cooked almost all the chicken wings. we went to christine's abode for BBQ - nothing original and creative about it. the initial plan to eat prata at somewhere near casuarina ended up being cancelled, and we headed straight to thomson plaza to buy ice and statay sticks and stuff. uploading the pics now.
I had been there before! tho my memory failed me, i still could vaguely rememeber once when i came here with my cellmates from FCBC to watch a movie at a cell members place - at the winsor!

every time I travel I think about so many issues. So many things. Many, many, many little poppies that appear out of no where; they seem to have a link to something existent, something possibly current, possibly deja vu. most probably current.

But pressing issues! culture issues! society issues! sex issues! person issues.

Thank God; I have faith.
-outhere

A levels

2006-01-18T04:17:00.000-08:00

Yes, as the above.

For the past week I have been bombarded with self-introductions, lectures and noisy people.YJC, P21, and so the society dictates.What are the odds that a person you have'nt met for 3 odd years pops up in the same JC as you, and gets into the SAME CLASS? Charles Tang from fcbc. What a nice meeting again.

-outhere

Fungus of Ferguson

2005-12-23T18:10:00.000-08:00

Fungus of ferguson! I did'nt know that I left that gay track still playing on my blog page!!! I put it up for testing and I forgot to delete it off the template. Arg.

My deepest apologies to those who listened and puked at its gaydity.
No time to blog now; need to pack for batam this afternoon.

-outhere

Travel tissue

2005-12-15T21:46:00.000-08:00

These few days I have been rotting. Just waking up really late and rotting the day away. Its nice rotting.

I decided to do what I do best yesterday. Picked up my gear, stuffed them into my Tenba, and walked right out into the beaming sunshine of the tropics. Exposed one roll of 200 Superia. ( neopan and agfa, your turn will come. sit still! )

I practically walked most of my journey with no direction; looking for Liang Court. Why? Clubsnap peeps have been talking about the B1 of Meidi-Ya supermart where developing is cheap. Develop and scan. woohoo.

On the way (say, I can't remember where, but its before the SGX building, after laopasat i think ) to Liang Court, there was girl, I reckon 17 or 18, medium build, fair complexion. She was sitting on the stone bench, crying over the phone.
She was pretty, fair and all.

Thoughts flooded me. Lost a job. Misunderstanding. Scolding. Backstab. Death. Did it matter?

I walked past her. Stopped. And turned around. I thought twice, and I naively wanted to make a difference. Not the difference. A difference.

I handed her the packet of tissue, she looked up at me, said a muffled 'thankew' and then looked down back into her realm. Those poor red eyes from sobbing.
I hope I eased her day.

Try writing when you travel. I pen things that come to me when I travel. Here's exerpt of yesterday.

'When will all of people begin to realize that at any one point of journey, every nook and cranny carries its own story, and is waiting to be told? And if so,
so?'
14:59

Yes, I am me.
-outhere

Europa

2005-12-07T06:25:00.000-08:00

It has been a week since I last blogged. And many things have happened in a week.

I pulled a giraffe long face when I undertook the painstaking task to scrub-rub off the stains of Berger Sealant and Weather Bond paint off the floor. with thinner. I tell you! Weather bond bonds! wah lao. rubbed until my hands became pinky red. It is a lonely, harsh thing to do all alone in the carporch, with only my cone radio to accompany me and BORE me with the tracks that is ocassionaly played. Those tracks that Iv heard like 500 times. hello. I have like 10 CDM albums already. I was like, PLAY SOMETHING i havent heard before!!!! but anyway. It was nice to hum away to old tunes.

First day was scraping off the old paint. I think that was Saturday. or was it friday. Ah. Imagine! Greeny algae growing under whitewash!! my gash.
So we scraped the whole day, then washed up
Dad and Charles was arnd to help. charles does his everneverwillchange disappearing act to check his yahoo mail or something. and dad leaves to check the contractors doing the garden. (yes we redid the entire garden with pearl grass, :what a name to entice the Asian.)

So I'm left. ALONE ! AGAIN!

heh.

now I can claim 90% of the entire BnW redoing of our porch. The long awaited painting of the house. ( well part of the house) ALL by Doug. haha. yess. ME.

alone.
The painting was definitely more interesting than the thinner-cleaning. That sucked. ( re: the movie Revolver, the china mafia Lord John keeps saying cocksucker ah, cocksucker. hahaha. in cantonese accent.)
But I must say again, the porch looks great now. really nice. like new house. mm mmmm.
but it was hard work.

these past few days, me and dad have been the ones doing all the stuff at home. Clean house, wash clothes. I mean, I always do that. But when dad's around, I guess it sort of feels different. Somehow.
It is the lose of those who don't do the chores. I almost despise them.

The irony hits me satirically funny. I remember how dad was rushing me to look for a pt job even during my O's. well it was the last few days of it, but still. Then after the O's, he was like, hurry go find, keep yourself busy, earn some money. So I told him I wanted meaning, significance in the PartTime job, preferably as a photographer's assistant/freelancer. Something that didnt just dish out cutthroat cheapo pays per hour like Macs. Something that didnt just hire to extend its mercy employement to further its corporate visions of crass commercialism. ( then I realize that this is in reality, the reality. That will be in another post. remind me!)

Given the nature of PA, it takes a while. So till now I have kept myself at home, helping around, Clubsnapping, selling/buying, making a few hundered. ( got an Eos30+bp300 with a usm )
the point is, IF I REALLY GOT A JOB, who would have done the painting? Okay, I will eat all the humble pies in the world but seriously, who would have done as thorough a job as I did? Seriously! and if i follwed dad's advice., I would be earning nuts in Macs with ellise while WHO clears up chores at home...??!!? Both my parents are working, Charles is out at OBS for a week, (anyway he doesnt really help) and ELlise is proudly working at Macs.

so tell me, who?
Sometimes I feel I am the wisest in the family. At my age.

Even if I were, wisdom is stupidity.
And the reverse.

Darn my emotions.
still.

-outhere

$1.30

2005-11-26T07:44:00.000-08:00

Dad, ellisse and I had dinner at this unidentified S11 opposite Clementi MRT with halfcooked shuijiaos. It was a terrible dinner. So I ordered another yangzhou chaofan and was left all alone ( albeit my minuteappetite sister ) to eat it. Hence I ended up overeating. It was a terrible dinner.

Today I fed the maomaos on the way home again. One maomao was more pristine, the cleaner, nicer looking one. It was slightly hungry, so I ran ( as I always do ) back to 7-11 at Ayer Rajah to buy can food. And the Good Lord Be Praised, canned cat food is much cheaper now. The other one never got enough. It kept miaoing away.

$1.30. who spares such a measly sum to ease the hunger pang of another species?

Day in, day out, we kill each other with sarcasm, door-slamming quarrels in front of our children, and chemicals like titanium dioxide in our dried mangoes. Why further so much negative karma by just watching other species of animals die in hunger?

It is as with the issue with Titties Durai.
Since when did it matter, on our part ( the-take-my-money-and-put-it-to-good-use-part ), how the money was spent? Since when did it matter if the money got cheated away? The essence of charity lies in the process of giving, and nothing else. The intention is pure.

I have you, and another. Who do I choose? Who, in the end, is more true? Who is more true to herself?

-outhere

The rhetoric

2005-11-24T20:00:00.000-08:00

It just came to me yesterday.

Life is a rhetorical question. There is no need to answer the questions that we face. Time will answer. Most things are inevitable and cause and effect take into play. Why do so many of us think about the dangers ahead and plan for them? Everything now has become planned for, thought about. Nothing happens anymore.

The best part is that the answers to the questions in life are either a yes or a no. Think about it!
Then comes the irony, because I believe in the grey matter, neither black nor white; grey.

I have been walking much these days. In fact, I have been walking only. Home to West Coast Park to Clementi Woods and back. And walking most of my journey home from Clark Quay after Graduation Nite. Don't even talk about it. All I saw was pseudo-glam. Glam.
Glam shit, I say.

-outhere

A Fresh, rotten Beginning

2005-11-24T05:28:00.000-08:00

Hello to all ( yes, to all, because blogging is in itself a contradiction of DIARY KEEPING)

I have decided to start all over with a new blog for several reasons, one letting this webby have more visibility, and two, the other ones really rubbish.
the old one was at doug3fflux.diaryland.com, luckily I can still use my same nick here. this is the nick I use for my photographic forum, so I am universally and virtually known as doug3fflux.

Ah. First post and I begin ranting. Why doug3fflux? I'll post the reason on another entry.
And many more to come.
Many.

-outhere