The dinner with Mel Gibson that wasn’t
by Yeoh Siew Hoon
I got an SMS the other day from a friend who said, “Having dinner with Mel Gibson in Le Petit Salut.”
Now how often do you get a text like that? Especially when this was not Le Petit Salut in some little French town but in tiny Singapore.
There then, in the next 10 minutes, followed a series of text messages, all initiated by yours truly of course who had a barrage of questions, of course. Why is he here? What is he like? What are you talking about? Has he mentioned “The Incident”? You know, the usual things you want to know about any famous person who happens to be in your town.
I think my friend couldn’t keep up with my text questions. “I will call you,” he replied, after receiving four missives in a row.
There then followed a telephone conversation in which I found out everything I wanted to know and which I am afraid I cannot share with you because my friend would kill me – on the other hand, should he still be a friend because if he were truly a friend, surely I should have been at the dinner with Mel, instead of at the other end of a mobile telephone?
Be that as it may, this episode reminded me of the power of “voice” to communicate and how little “voice time” we give each other in today’s world of text and emails?
Think about it. Most of us in Asia, anyway, would rather text, than speak. As in “my dinner with Mel that wasn’t”, sometimes we have to send a series of text messages before we finally conclude a “communication” when one phone call would have given instant closure to a particular subject.
The mobile phone has become our excuse not to talk. We make love through text, far more vividly in most cases than face to face. We break up through text – it’s easier and less painful for the one initiating the split.
It’s the perfect tool for girls who no longer who want to see a particular guy but don’t know how to tell him so. You either respond with two words or you just don’t respond at all.
We argue through text – to most Asians who are uncomfortable with confrontation, the mobile phone is a God-send; you don’t have to look at someone in the eye when you’re telling them off about something.
Yet our voice is such an important part of us. People make fools of themselves in front of millions in order for their voices to be heard – ala American Idol.
Often, we look to the voice to give us clues about someone’s personality. I used to play games – still do – where, after hearing the voice of someone I hadn’t yet met, I would wonder what they were like.
Bedroom voice equaled dark and handsome. Gentle – soft and kind. Squeaky – tiny and excitable. Husky – earthy, sexy.
Sometimes, of course, I’d be wrong. But most times, the voice is a good indicator of a person’s persona. Yes, judge not a book by its cover, but by its voice.
Then there are those who love the sound of their own voice so much they can’t stop speaking … vocal narcissism equals verbal diarrhoea.
As for Mel’s voice, I am afraid I can’t tell you what it is like in real life as I didn’t get to talk to him. But from my memory of him on screen, I would guess, Lethal Weapon Five.
P/S: Incidentally, I learnt that Mel was in Sabah for three days trekking through Danum Valley. Apparently, I just missed him by a day. Now if only someone had SMSed me about that earlier.
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