The Post Exhibition Blues

I have survived...
Last night's opening was alright, His Execellency and the first lady were really nice people, and I felt like a child trying to explain my works to a grand-papa. When he shook my hand he asked me whether I was related to Tengku Abdul Rahman, the former Malaysian Sultanate, they were curious about my 'Bin'-less name. I was surpised he didn't ask me about the Big J I was holding in one of the photos. Maybe he was a hippy back in the 60s, nevermind that, there's a hippy in everyone I guess.

The opening was great, families and friends who came for the free booze. And there was this reporter from the Chinese Press, who kept pressing me about how does it feel being a minority in the field of expression? I told her being in the field of expression can make you feel like a minority sometimes, when the quest for finding the rational in the irrational becomes a daily effort of living. She laughed...(what?)

The performance was great, yes, I had glitter all over me... VJ did a fine job as a serious art mc, the performance was a cross between a freak show, fashion parade and a rock gig, but all of these happening on a staircase that is coated with pink fabric.

There were parts where audience were given the chance to instruct the performer to execute certain actions and I did all of them mostly:

- kicking a ball
- back-flip (I got a muscle pull on this one)
- snipping offf pubic hair (thank god I had a silver ball underneath my costume)
- slide down the stairs (this was dangerous)
- imitate Taufik Batisah (I don't understand this one)

Now that its all over...I need a real good sleep, and major cleaning of the house.