The great Singapore black-out. Last night, right in the middle of Six Feet Under, the power goes out. This is a first during our time here. The blackout seemed to stretch a long way -- I climbed to the top of our building, and there were lights in the distance, but mostly dark for several miles in every direction. For 45 minutes or so, we got to experience what it was like here before electricity. Damn hot. How did people sleep?

Tonight was my last soccer game. They let me play striker for the last twenty minutes, which was fun. I had no goals, but got an assist after committing a flagrant foul that was not called. Afterwards, beers at Turf City. Then goodbyes, which I've really come to hate.

I'll find a team in Melbourne, but will it be as fun? Doubtful.

Turns out the Chinese opera we heard the other night from our window might have had another interesting twist to it. On opening nights, apparently, Chinese opera troupes play their first performance to an empty theater. It's for the ghosts, you see. We couldn't tell if there was a crowd there or not but this might have been what was going on.

My coworkers Hong I and Meng Wah told me this today during lunch, which was interesting in itself. We went to a dim sum restaurant on the seventh floor of a public housing project. It was rather like a banquet hall. But the food was really tasty. We had three kinds of dumplings, pork ribs with yams, glutinous rice, porridge, spongy meat-filled rolls, tea, and chestnut(?) cakes for dessert.

Got another ping on the job front today. A recruiter called me from Australia about a CV I posted on a job site. He asked me if I had any experience with HAV. Sorry, I said, as I had never even heard of it. Later he mentioned it again, and I asked (so I could look it up later), "Are you saying H-A-V or H-A-B?"

"No," he said. "E-J-B. Echo, Juliet, Bravo".

I thought language issues weren't going to be a problem. But "E-J-B" in an Australian accent sounds an awful lot like "H-A-V" to my ears.

Violent streak? Me? Frustrating game today. The team we played against had a player who was the biggest cheater I had ever seen. You breathe on him, and he falls down and cries out like he's in agony. The problem was, the ref fell for it almost every time.

I was covering him. I'm usually a pacifist, but I can't stand that sort of crap. So I tried to rile him up by calling him every name in the book whenever he was near me. At one point he ran through my space, so a grabbed his shirt, and of course he fell down and cried for the ref. The ref missed this one, so I said, "Awww, what's the matter? You fall down there?" It was all I could do not to at least step on him. He was just ignoring my taunts, so I figure, as long as he's falling anyway, and the ref's letting it happen, I might as well get my licks in. He was subbed out before I could do much. But he came back later, and then worst thing happened, which was that he scored the go-ahead goal. While I was covering someone else, but still.

Even now, the big dumb jock in me wishes I had left him with some scars. Sports are primal sometimes.

Anyway, the coach announced that this would be my last Sunday game (though there's a Wednesday night one that I'm still playing) and everyone applauded me. At least I hope they were applauding me, and not the fact that I'm leaving. It was nice.