Went to a party at some fancy so-and-so’s, the friend of a friend. Apparently there were gonna be lots of elig Yale boys there. What was there was the host, just turned thirty, a square-headed young man with thick lips and slim hips; various versions of his portrait, having undergone some sort of Warholian Photoshopped process, projected on a large, blank wall all Powerpoint-like; photographs of his father shaking hands with assorted political figures; four kinds of cake, none of them chocolate from Lana Cake House; lots of rum; Ribena; and a cute girl in a parrot-print tank top. So that’s what the young upperclass of Singapore get up to on a Saturday night.