I’m A Shut In And I Like It

I don’t like going out much.

This SARS thing is a kind of convenient that way, because it gives me a legitimate reason to stay at home most of the time, and since everyone else’s self-preservation instincts have kicked in, they don’t exactly bug me about going out to public places either.

Maybe it’s just a Singapore thing, (Or, more to the point, a tropical weather thing) but I notice here a greater tendency to want to go out–not even to do anything in particular, just go out and “hang” as them crazy kids say–and it baffles me (Then again, I am Canadian) as to why anyone would want to out into an environment that causes them to sweat uncomfortably after 5 seconds of exposure. I prefer the frigid wastes of the Canadian North that kill you in a matter of hours…

But here is my complete list of places I don’t like. I hate:

Bars

The first retreat of the wage slave at the end of hard day’s unsatisfying work before going back to a charmless life with no fire or passion. The bar is kind of like a permanent dinner party where you go to be with people if you don’t know how to be with people. There the other patrons have no choice but to be in your presence since it’s all about the drinking. And the sleazing. Can’t say I was ever fond of Money Guys using that as their sole means to entice the ladies, but then it’s still a dog eat dog world, and since physical strength is now a largely useless measurement of a man’s ability to survive in the world, money is the new water mark. Sigh…

Okay there are THREE bars that I look back on with great fondness, the now defunct Dewey’s in Hub Mall back at the University of Alberta, the now no longer recognizable (Or so I’ve been told) Squire’s Tavern on Whyte Avenue, and the now moved and no longer cool Bisous that moved from its charming Tras Street location to the more upscale and business-y Far East Square locale.

Dewey’s rocked ’cause it was… well, it was a COLLEGE bar, for God’s sake. Thousands of interesting poets, artists, musicians, dance students, philosphers, film critics, writers, playwrights, dancers and others hung out there, how could it NOT be cool?!? Sure it had a pretentious quotient beyond all reason compared to other bars, but it was always full of intelligent (If occasionally inflated and egotistical) conversation.

Squire’s holds a special place in my heart for feeding me every Friday night from 5 pm to 7 pm when they took pity on all of us poor, starving college students and put some free chow on offer so that we wouldn’t all have to resort to a) Mom’s cooking b) Our cooking (Usually just macaroni & cheese) or c) the 30 cent rice deal at Ho-Ho’s Chinese food outlet.

Bisous: Now this was a BAR bar. Not too crowded, moody lighting, a KICK ASS bartender (Gavin will always rock…) this not only looked like the kind of classic 40’s film noir bar you see in movies, with shadows and tables and jazz, but we could occasionally take over the sound system and play our own tunes. My theory is that the owners were just nice because they wanted to be able to say that I was a regular before I became a monstrously successful novelist. This was THE perfect place to go when dumped, depressed, or just maudlin ’cause it was so stereotypically cinematic, what you always imagined a bar SHOULD look like, that you couldn’t help but feel slightly movie-ish yourself, like Matt Dillon or Edward Norton would walk in any minute and you’d find out you were at the “flash forward” start of a movie where they start to tell their story before the movie proper begins…

Clubs

I don’t like clubs. PERIOD.

They are too loud and filled with too many entirely not nice people, and since I’m antisocial by nature, speech is an important communication tool for me, and I have all the social grace of a drunken panda not to mention the fact that I dance like a girl at her prom night… these all conspire to render me largely useless, mute, bitter, and, if possible, cringing in a corner booth with my shoes off, in fetal position, downing one drink after another between cigarettes so as to anesthetize myself further from the sensory overload. Yes, I know that some people are here to dance and just have fun, but the others are more of the sleaze bag types that are out for their One Night Stand, and I don’t like being in such a predatory atmosphere. To those of you who say, “Then just don’t go!” I say, “I don’t!” But then I also ask you to tell my friends from refraining to try to get me to said locations because it’s good for me.

Clubs and I DON’T MIX. I’m too busy being an insecure, neurotic artsey/writer type to be comfortable in such a setting.

Parties

Too many strangers, too many pheromones, too many lame attempts at clever conversation. ‘Nuff said.

Shopping Malls

Shopping Malls would be wonderful places if they didn’t have all those God damn shoppers around. For anyone who is sufficiently bored, or works in a mall as security, I highly reccomend taking a wander through after closing hours. Maybe light up a cigarette in the atrium. In the middle of that vast expanse of exhausted capitalism, it’s really something. Conversely, try wandering around Marina Square at night when only the arcade and movie theater are open. Malls are just better without people.

Any Street

TOO. MANY. PEOPLE…

And now, the democratic response:

Places I Like

The Singapore Art Museum

NO PEOPLE! JUST PICTURES!

I thank the stars that Singapore has little or no interest in its arts, because that means I can wander through the art museum largely unmolested by those annoying things known as Other Human Beings. Normally Singapore’s misguided attempts at trying to force culture down its population’s throats seem pathetic or laughable to me, but in this case, I don’t mind it at all, since it created a perfectly good building with pretty pictures that no one seems to want to go to. Highly reccomended for other anti-social people like me!

Art Supply Shops

Maybe it’s just the old art student in me, but I still like browsing through an art supply store. And not that sucky chain called “Art Friend” or the one in Takashimaya that is obviously designed to cater to bored housewives with no actual technical or visual knowledge. The one I’m thinking of is sandwiched between PARCO Bugis and Bras Basah, Straits Commercial and not only do the nice owners know EVERY SINGLE FREAKIN’ ITEM IN THEIR INVENTORY, the understand art too, and can make very good reccomendations on products and techniques to apply them. KICK. ASS. STORE.

Any Street At 3 AM

NO PEOPLE! WHEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Dinner Parties

A small group of friends, usually less than 10, some good food, not enough chatter volume to drown out the music, and generally good conversation. I’m SO THERE…

Used Book Stores

There’s a delightful messiness at work, a kind of loving chaos in the way all these old books are stuffed into every space imaginable. What’s really cool though is if you come across a book that meant something to somebody once. Maybe it was a gift, or a favorite copy of a book that somehow got lost on a trip and ended up here. You’ll find dedications written on the inside cover, or underlined passages, or even photos stuck as makeshift bookmarks. There’s personal history at work there and I think that’s neat.

Comic Book Stores

The Last True Geek Refuge. This is the one and only public space that I feel utterly comfortable in regardless of population. It gives me great pleasure to watch little dramas like the arty girl dragging her “normal” boyfriend in and watching him squirm in discomfort at the heated debate going at the Magic: The Gathering table. Here is my science fiction, my fantasy, my horror, my super-heroes, my dungeons and dragons… all the stuff that made me want to be a writer in the first place. No matter where I go in the world, a comic book store is home.

Video Game Stores

And this… is PARADISE.

People are irrelevant because I no longer notice them once I get in. All I can feel is the abundant love offered by these little platters of silicon paradise that have silicon as a component for operation, instead of having gotten in there as the result of an operation.

I’m a geek. Sue me…