Will Quah Dot Com

Exhausted. Income tax does that to you, I guess. You can never avoid death and taxes, apparently, although no one said they waltz in arm-in-arm and nick all the truffles.

This weekend, I’ll post, give the site a facelift (yes, it’s no longer Easter, I know), and update the book section (you really think that’s all I read? Shame on you…).

Til then, hang on.

Adieu, adieu, adieu.
WillQ.

If you listen to only one song today, make sure it’s “Lay Your Hands” by Simon Webbe, because it is fantastic. And if you’re lucky, you could even win it on MixFM this weekend.

So, last night was a friday night, and for the first time in ages I WASN’T too exhausted to get dressed up and haul myself into town for a night on the… err… town. And it was a special occasion (no, not the celebration of Good Friday with the quaffing of sacrements) – one of my oldest friends (by this I mean I’ve known him for ages, not that he is old – Don’t kill me Ben!) was back in KL for the first time in ages (I’ve known this guy since I first started going out – he was there on almost all of my drunken birthdays, including my historic 18th, which I can’t really remember too well, which means it must have been good) so there was the customary welcome back dinner followed by our usual mad evening out. Add to that the fact that our usual water hole has just introduced a cover charge (which means less people, which means more space, more air, and less claustrophobia) and it was almost like we were all back in the good old days.

I remember when I was young, and my parents would always get on my back about wanting to go out – “Why? What’s so good about it?” they’d often ask (along with Cardinal Ximinez, they formed a formidable Spanish Iquisition, which no one expected! – see Python, Monty.). And in those days, I’d often say that everyone else is going, so I want to too. On reflection, this was both damn shallow, and damn profound. Shallow, because I cannot believe I couldn’t think up something a bit more clever to fob them off with, but profound because, at the end of the day, sometimes all you take with you when you get older, are the experiences that you share. Sharing a night out, a great dinner, a fantastic game of whatever it is you play, makes it more real. Sitting there at dinner discussing old times, old flings, old flames, old games and the like, I realised that sometimes you only keep a small bunch of your memories with you, and the others are left with the people you made them with, and the best way to put them all back together is over a nice dinner with a fair ammount of alcoholic lubrication. Sometimes it’s nice to know that little bits of your past are carried around by others, so that you don’t have to obsess about keeping them safe all by yourself. In fact, sometimes the best place to visit, is your past (because god knows, most people already have the baggage packed, and more than enough souvenirs). After all, nowhere is ever the same when you visit a second time.

So, that was my Friday night, and it was good, and if I give thanks for anything this Easter, it will not be for what I have been given, but for the People I have been given the grace of knowing. Because they really made my Friday nights.

And the drinks were good too.

Salut!
WillQ.

P.S. Pictures forthcoming as soon as Danny decides to mail them to me (so, next year maybe…)

So, it’s almost Easter. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not the most religious of people, and to me Easter means Chocolate Eggs and Bunnies in Waistcoats (btw, did you know that at last count, Australia was the largest consumer of chocolate eggs IN THE WORLD. Fat nation yeah! Aussie aussie aussie, oi oi oi!). One thing I never get to live down during Easter are my mother’s tales of Will, the Greediest Boy in the World. She will fondly regale anyone willing to listen (and even those unwilling – usually me) with the stories from by chubby little past, where a pre-pubescent me actually raced my 2 year old brother round a garden and took ALL the eggs (yes, just like the evil kids in the Easter cartoon specials). Well, fair’s fair, right? Or the even younger me who, when asked for some eggs, gave the boiled chicken variety that had been dyed, and refused to part with even a single chocolate one. Ironically, you now have to practically force chocolate on me. How we change. And where does the carefree fun of youth go?

Anyway, so getting back to Easter, which is symbolically not about greedy kids and chocolate, but about sacrifice, taking time out to get back in touch with the life cycle, and rebirth. And as such, I think I will really appreciate this side of Easter this year, having recently left a way of life (note – I am not likening leaving a company to the martyrdom of Christ, even though I know of at least one accountant who turned out to be a Judas) only to be taking time out to smell the roses (and the burnt plastic scent of an overclocked games processor as I play more than a small country’s fair share of online games – WOW 4EVA. UB3R L33T) and prepare for a rebirth of sorts, of which I will keep you posted.

I could rant on about the unfair opportunities presented in certain businesses and companies, about racism present in workplace situations, about the politics (that not only threaten to undermine, but which have already completely decimated and which are now running rampant over an EscapeLA type environment wielding pickaxes and hitting anything that moves over the noggin while screaming post apocalyptic slogans, like “We don’t need another Hero”, etc.) that are killing off a country’s creativity, drive, and above all spirit, or a country that has as much harmony as the Nothumbria under 4’s Recorder Recital Orchestra (proudly conducted by a Ms. Agnes Prunebottom tyvm). But alas, I shall not.

You all know the story anyway.

So, Happy Easter, and this year, lets all hunt for a little more than Chocolate Eggs and bunnies. Lets hunt for integrity. Lets hunt for equality. Lets hunt for fairness.

Because (insert deity here) only knows where they’ve got to.

Hoppity hoppity hop,
WillQ.

P.S. There’s some new pics under photos… you’ll have to scroll way down to see em tho. Enjoy! (Personally I think I look pretty wasted and scary, but you be the judge…)

The Historian
Elizabeth Kostova
April 2006
Everybody loves a good vampire yarn, and this one breaks the mould by being less Buffy and more Giles (I’m sure literary critics the world over are rolling in their graves at that description), taking a sometimes stuffily academic approach to what is essentially a Slay the Vampire Hunt across Europe and the ages. Beautifully written, the book almost lulls you into a sense of self reproach, where you begin to doubt that anything this literary could actually be talking about the realities of a modern day Dracula stalking historic researchers. You get the feeling you misread it somewhere, and it’s this rational approach that makes it seem (at least during the first half of the book) all the more mundanely surreal. It soon begins to take flights of fancy, though, and the motives of the legendary Vampire Lord and his (single?) henchmen begin to slot a little too perfectly into place. And don’t expect a climactic finish, as I found myself (blood)thirsty for more.
Still, it’s a fun read, and for those of you who’ve been putting up with some of the more droll narratives around, this one certainly scores points for the rich language, and really genuine “historical” feel.