Home from Talvin Singh's gig at Phuture. In fact, it was the most crowded gig I've been to there, so packed that there was hardly space to even wriggle at one point. I had to tilt my face up so I can breathe easier, despite being sandwiched from all sides. It felt surreal seeing the rotating disco lights make slow blue arcs over everyone's upturned faces, like they were controlled by aliens probing human minds. I didn't feel like I belonged. In a few hours' time, I'm going to visit a friend's firstborn baby in the hospital. I don't really know what to say to the lucky parents, and I don't recall the last time I've held any baby in my arms. But I don't belong there either.

I'm just stuck in limbo in a waiting room somewhere, stocked with books, movies and CDs to keep me occupied till someone calls my number. And even then, I'm not sure I want to get up and answer. Life is so easy and safe in a waiting room.