let lemons be angry

It's halftime for the japan-singapore match. This is insane. Why would i root for singapore so that japan can't get into the qualifying round? My allegiance is with japan. Ono, please let them zoom in on ono. This brings back World Cup two years ago, in Pastor Kawata's living room squashed on the couch, in front of that large screen. And me pointing out happily to tsubasa, "ono!" and tsubasa being amazed that i could recognise the players already. We ate deloba and nuts and drank isotonic soda. The guys were shouting and tsubasa was running on the spot. Akari and i spilled nuts and i put a finger to my lips. Then, back in singapore, on the white couch, still rooting for japan. We ordered cable for the world cup season so we could watch all the matches. And i was wondering if the floor in the Kawata living room was being pounded thin. Let's not remember last year's visit. Preserve the world cup memories, and let that be all there was to the Kawata world.

Mr Liew is gone. Joeun and i made a bunch of dada things to give him, and he was pleased silly. Sensitive, pessimistic, sincere people like him need farewell presents, i was telling joeun. I made him a t-shirt saying "R. Mutt" and a huge Readymade Object card with the graffiti-ed mona lisa which read "G.M.L.H.S." (Goodbye Mr Liew Happy Studying) I will miss his bad jokes and disorganised ways. I will miss the way he gave us the freedom to use the studio like it was our home, and his lack of structure. He taught me how to make styrofoam look like bronze or wood or stone or plastic, and i'm forever grateful for that. He made me finally feel capable of art. He packed up all his stuff and told us that from now on, everything in the studio is ours. Including all the things seniors have left behind and haven't collected. So i ransacked the drawers today. I had a wild rush going through all their things. Each drawer is like a slice of that person's life. You can tell so much by what they choose to draw and how they draw it. And art room drawers stash everything that can't fit into lockers, from candles to stacks and stacks of lit s notes. So now we have acquired a Phaildon book on Surrealism, a portfolio, boxes of brushes, clean palettes, drawing paper, cloth samples, among other little things. And i've sneaked away for myself a book of Seamus Heaney poems and a sheer black scarf. Part of the guilt-free thrill was knowing that no junior would ever go through my stuff. I am the last ransacker.

I'm missing second half. Off i go.