Sunday, April 30, 2006

an open letter to a friend lost

an open letter to a friend lost


i think of you sometimes
and hear your thoughts
through lines that speak
from your white canvass
cry no more
let your letters dry
around the edges
let them not morph
fade into blots
let them know no fear
let them live
laugh
be happy
and be
cry no more
i think of you sometimes
and hear your worries
through lines that lie
on your white canvass
let your letters be free
let them not be soft
fade into silence
let them breathe
sing
be yours
and be
cry no more
i think of you sometimes

Friday, April 28, 2006

of a beautiful mind & spiritual tribes



above religion, nationality, culture, gender.... there's what i call a spiritual tribe that people belong to. on some core level - it's what being human is all about. and recognizing universal truths. your spiritual tribe comprises likeminded souls who view the world they live in with a similar and familiar knowing. there's a certain vulgarity in articulating this. i dunno why.

Writer Paul Theroux talks about truth at some point in the following article from Life!. and the re-emergence of truth that comes with time. he shares his thoughts on how time helps a person shed the fat in one's life...weeding out the irrelevant. Theroux was in Singapore yesteday. In this Life! interview, he said he would talk about the passage of time at a talk held at the national library yesterday.
i missed this event! argh.
i would have loved to ask him if the co-relation between the passage of time and truth could possibly be unchronological...unbiological.

i'm sharing with all here a poem (by one of my faves derek walcott) on the re-emergence of truth and words on and by theroux.


Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

And say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was yourself.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

- by Derek Walcott



Life! - Life News
Theroux goes from Saint to erotica

Kristina Tom
1841 words
28 April 2006
Straits Times
English

(c) 2006 Singapore Press Holdings Limited
The world has changed and the American author of the controversialSaint Jack book, now doing a sequel to his Asian travelogue, says hehas mellowed, too

PAUL Theroux is one of those authors whose work belies his real-life personality.
The American, who was born in Medford, Massachusetts, has written more than 40 books.
They range from controversial novels like Saint Jack (1973) - about an American brothel owner in Singapore - and ironic, slightly misanthropic travelogues like The Great Railway Bazaar (1975) to erotic fiction, like his most recent Blinding Light.
The latter was nominated for Literary Review magazine's Bad Sex Award in Fiction last year.
So, imagine this Life! reporter's surprise when the first thing the famed author says yesterday at Traders Hotel is: 'Want to see a picture of my grandchild?'
I coo politely at the photo of Albert, his first grandchild, born just on Valentine's Day, and we begin a very pleasant, nearly hour-long conversation.
It could be that he has simply grown out of his wilder youth.
After all, this is the man who was kicked out of the Peace Corps for taking part in a failed coup in Malawi in the 1960s.
But dressed in a grey button-down shirt and black slacks topped with round, black framed glasses reminiscent of Harry Potter, he is almost disappointingly calm and amicable in the flesh.
Then again, Theroux is not your typical grandfather. Having just turned 65 earlier this month, he plans to celebrate with a new tattoo - he is born in the Year of the Snake and wants a serpent-inspired design.
That would be in addition to the small tattoo on his right hand.
It is of a frigate bird, done in Hawaii where he now lives with
Sheila Loo, his Chinese-American wife of 10 years.
He has two sons with his previous wife Anne Castle (they divorced in 1993) - novelist Marcel, 37, and British television presenter Louis, 35.
The author is here to retrace the steps of his 1972 overland trip through Europe and Asia, made famous in Railway. He plans to write up the experience in his next book, a kind of 'sequel'. 'The world has changed, I've changed, I just wanted to see how,' he says. Of Singapore, he says the city is 'unrecognisable'.
He offers this analogy: 'It's like you see someone and they're thin, and you see them 20 years later and they weigh 400 pounds.
Somewhere inside that body is the original person.'
Singapore, he says, is like that: 'It's exploded.'
While here, he plans to look up some old friends from his teaching days, which he has fond memories of. From 1968 to 1971, he taught at the then-University of Singapore's Department of English. He cites home-grown poet Lee Tzu Pheng and British poet and critic D.J. Enright, then head of the English department, as colleagues he particularly liked and respected. He is completely unflappable, whether talking about the university's decision not to renew his contract - 'I was essentially fired' - or the banning of the 1979 film Saint Jack, based on his novel of the same name. But he is taken aback when told not all his students remember him fondly. Declining to reveal their names, a few of his former students told Life! that he was a less-than-perfect teacher, with the most diplomatic of them saying: 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.'
Asked if there was any truth to the charges of arrogance or aloofness, Theroux asks: 'If I'm hard to approach, is that my problem or their problem?' - which perhaps explains his students' sense of intimidation.
Professor Kirpal Singh, 57, a poet and associate professor of creative thinking at Singapore Management University, recalls that Theroux would be late for class, not return assignments on time and fail to give individual feedback, making him feel 'short-changed' as a student.
'Perhaps he should never have been a university teacher,' Singh says, adding that Theroux was much better as a personal coach, sharing stories during lectures or over a few drinks with a small group of students.
'He was very dashing - what we would call a hot bod now... My female classmates were not only in awe of him but also very attracted to him,' Singh says with a laugh.
Indeed, one-on-one, Theroux is far from aloof.
On the contrary, he is very open and candid for someone known to guard his privacy. He talks to Life! about growing old and reminisces on his stint in Singapore.

What do you remember about your time in Singapore?

The first thing I remember is that they didn't want to hire me. When they found out I was a writer, they told the head of the department that I might be a troublemaker... Writers were dangerous people, so they didn't want to hire me. But they did anyway.


Given that they banned the movie Saint Jack, do you think the Government regretted letting you in, in the first place?

There is nothing to regret. The movie was great. The book I wrote is the only record of what Singapore was like in 1969 or 1970. It's a historical document. So why would the Government regret that? It'd be like saying they were ashamed of being written about or looked at. I don't think that's it.

What was on your mind when you were writing Saint Jack?

I was writing about the Singapore I knew, which was very complicated. It was in the beginning of a process of change. Joseph Conrad's End Of The Tether is partially set in Singapore, and in it, the main character takes a walk from his ship on shore. And in 1968, you could have taken the same walk that Conrad described in, say, 1895. But then Singapore started to change and destroy old Singapore - that's inevitable. It happened in San Francisco and New York, but I saw it happening here. First there was tight control on the press, then they started to tear down buildings and put up new buildings - and they were worried about communist infiltration.


How did you feel when the movie was banned?

That's life. When things are banned, it's pathetic. Who bans things? People who are frightened. It's fear. So what are they frightened of? Of people writing or saying something? And why are they frightened? When someone bans something, it's very revealing.

How do you feel about the ban being lifted in 1997 and the film being approved for commercial distribution this year?

God bless them. I think it's wonderful. Again, if something's unbanned, it's revealing. People are open-minded and not worried and not frightened of it.
In Iran, U2 and Madonna are banned.

And you're banned in Malawi...

Yes. Officially it's banned in Malawi, but no one reads in Malawi so it doesn't matter. I'll tell you a banning story. I was in Africa in the 1960s and I
published three or four novels that were all banned in South Africa because they showed Africans as human beings. The white government in South Africa was not interested in showing Africans as human beings. When Nelson Mandela was released from prison in 1990 and they got a new government, I was not only unbanned. I also got a phone call from Penguin Books saying: 'We just got an order of 300,000 copies
of The Mosquito Coast.' And I said: 'That's fantastic. What's the story?' They said it had just been made a set book - in English schools they have a curriculum with five set books. Whenever I meet a South African, he'd say: 'Oh I've read Mosquito
Coast', like 'I've read Huck Finn'. So the white government banned me. The black government not only unbanned me, they put me on the curriculum.
Good story, don't you think?


Where are you going next?

I'm going home. It's been a very hard trip. I went from London to Turkmenistan by train. Turkmenistan is run by a complete and insane dictator who has a lot of money.
It's a very dangerous thing to be a dictator with a lot of money. Turkmenistan looks like an under-funded Las Vegas. It has big marble hotels and apartment houses, but most people have nowhere to live. They have the secret police, which is like the Gestapo, and it's the one place where my Blackberry doesn't work. There's no Internet in Turkmenistan. I couldn't e-mail my wife.

What topic are you speaking on at the National Library this week?

Time. The passage of time and how time affects your perception.
I'm old, and I've been writing now for 40 years. If you live long enough you notice that it's only with the passage of time that you see the truth of the world.
The rest of the time people are telling you what it is: This is a friend, that is an enemy, this is progress, this is a book - people tell you that.
As time passes, you say, no, this isn't a book, this isn't freedom, this isn't reality. Time reveals that. It's why old people are the repository of a kind of truth.
It's always been the case - but you have to get to a certain age to realise that.

Does the passage of time ever make you anxious?

You mean dying? Well, of course. It's why Singapore's interesting because you can see its rampant materialism - it's all about buying. In a way, buying, spending and building are a way of denying mortality. Because people live and buy, as if they're going to live forever.

Why did you turn to erotic fiction with Stranger At The Palazzo D'Oro and Blinding Light?

There's a revelation in sexuality, too, of knowing yourself. It's not the sexuality that interests me but the ecstatic state. At the same time, I'm not an advocate necessarily of any of this. It'd be very hard for me to be a writer.
I've written 40 or so books - could I have done that if I didn't have a good night's sleep, good diet or exercise? I don't smoke. I hardly drink. I'm a healthy person. Obviously, ecstatic states are very few and far between in my life.
If you want to be productive, you need to be healthy. You can't actually burn the candle at both ends.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

new favorite word: Zeigeist

Zeit·geist (tsīt'gīst', zīt'-) noun

The spirit of the time; the taste and outlook characteristic of a period or generation: “It's easy to see how a student . . . in the 1940's could imbibe such notions. The Zeitgeist encouraged Philosopher-Kings” (James Atlas).

[German : Zeit, time (from Middle High German zīt, from Old High German) + Geist, spirit]

Zeitgeist
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

This article is about the German word.

Look up Zeitgeist in Wiktionary, the free dictionary.Zeitgeist (help·info) is originally a German expression that means "the spirit (Geist) of the time (Zeit)". It denotes the intellectual and cultural climate of an era.

The concept of Zeitgeist goes back to Johann Gottfried Herderand other German Romantics, but is best known in relation to Hegel's philosophy of history. In 1769 Herder wrote a critique of the work Genius seculi by the philologist Christian Adolph Klotz (German Wikipedia article) and introduced the word Zeitgeist into German as a translation of genius seculi (Latin: genius - "guardian spirit" and saeculi - "of the century"). The German Romantics, habitually tempted to reduce the past to essences, treated the Zeitgeist as a historical character in its own right, rather than a mere conceptual instrument.

Zeitgeist has achieved a unique status among German loanwords in other tongues, having found an entrance into English, Spanish, Dutch and even Japanese.

It is a term that refers to the ethos of a cohort of people, that spans one or more subsequent generations, who despite their diverse age and socio-economic background experience a certain worldview, which is prevalent at a particular period of socio-cultural progression. Zeitgeist is the experience of a dominant cultural climate that defines, particularly in Hegelian thinking, an era in the dialectical progression of a people or the world at large. According to Hegel, the Zeitgeist always incarnated itself in a specific Volksgeist ("Volk" meaning "people"), which itselfs was personalized by an individual hero, symbolized by Napoleon. Once the hero's mission was accomplished, history would abandon it as a dry shell, and the Zeitgeist be transferred to another Volksgeist, where another hero would emerge to complete the unfolding of the spiritual Being in history itself.

***



On the evening before I told my boss: "I quit!" I learned a new word. Zeigeist.

(at PS Cafe)
N: "Just quit!! You can't help it... you just have to pursue your dreams and do what you're passionate about.... it's the Zeigeist of those who are born in the 1970s...

Jessie T: errr what's Zeigeist....?


****


EXCERPT from Debbie 10K's blog (she's linked up on my blog: pls search along left panel)... so as remembered by Debs. the next 5 minutes of conversation was as follows.....

Monday, April 17, 2006
P.S. One night in Singapore

We had supper at the PS cafe. (I love Peter Teo!) Najib told Jessica that we were the generation of instant gratification. He said in his generation, when they wanted to find out about something, they'd think about it for 2 weeks, go to the National Library, look it up in the encyclopedia, then understand what that something really meant.

In contrast, if we ever wondered, what an amniotic embolism was, we'd search it on the internet and find out immediately what it meant. No time to really understand what it means. Until it happens to someone you know.

It is very true - as a generation, we reflect a lot less on things we don't know and we demand everything (knowledge, pleasure, satisfaction) instantaneously.

Jessica quit her job the next day. :)


posted by Debbie Kay at 11:57 PM



*****



on that fateful night at PS Cafe, i also shared with all my miracle of the day.

earlier that day, a Thursday, I had just texted Debs.

"Ehhh I'm like havin' panic attack lei... i wanna do this (quit) but scared shit. boo hoo."

as the screen on my purple nokia blinked "message sent" i placed my cell back on my desk and almost immediately felt a light tap on my right shoulder.

i turned around to see the newsroom editorial assistant behind me with her hands outstretched.

she held a copy of a magazine in which i had contributed an article to almost a year ago.

"i've got a present for you, here." she says.

i thanked my visitor. she had given me something she was keeping for me for a long time...

as she stepped away, i quickly flipped through the content page in search of my story...

there on the contributor's page was a little box that mirrored my face. i looked at it fleetingly before i read a personal quote of mine that captioned my picture.

it was something i came up with exactly a year ago and it was exactly what i needed to hear at that moment.

it said i said:""Don't shy away from change, don't be afraid of who you're meant to be."

sweet miracle. sweet sweet miracle.

Monday, April 24, 2006

relishing the moment



at church service one morning a couple of years back, i remember my wondering eyes finding rest on the pretty view through the windows before me. it hung like a painting with the window frames defining the moment... of the simple joys nature had to offer. The simplicity of what sat before was intense, and made me consious for the moment of the many miracles that surround us, that slip by us. luscious trees with greens so intense. and how beautiful it was to witness the gentle breeze playfully connecting with the leaves. it was beautiful how from my point of perspective, there seated at the church pew, i was offered the experience of what i call the layers of nature and life. for while i saw the picture before me in all its entirety... it moved me ... just simply because i saw the trees first, then the clouds and not long the blue sky. i was relishing the moment.

here's one of my fave poets, relishing a moment too.

Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me

Last night
the rain
spoke to me
slowly, saying,
what joy
to come falling
out of the brisk cloud,
to be happy again
in a new way
on the earth!
That’s what it said
as it dropped,
smelling of iron,
and vanished
like a dream of the ocean
into the branches
and the grass below.
Then it was over.
The sky cleared.
I was standing
under a tree.
The tree was a tree
with happy leaves,
and I was myself,
and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves
at the moment
at which moment
my right hand
was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars
and the soft rain –
imagine! imagine!
the long and wondrous journeys
still to be ours.

Mary Oliver

Thursday, April 13, 2006

on being alive




when my grandma passed away, i didn't have time to grieve.

i was 21 then, and about a month away from completing my history honors dissertation.

i remember spending hours in the dark sifting through microfiches of colonial documents to piece together a coherent thought on the British Transfer of Power in Singapore, 1959-1963.

i don't however, remember shedding a tear for my grandma.

my grandma had fallen at the foot of the stairway on the groundfloor of her block. a couple of construction workers nearby working on a upgrading project came to help her and called for the ambulance. she was rushed to the hospital, where she passed away at the A&E.

my last image of her was lying on the hospital bed with tubes strung out from her sides and nose. i was numbed and wasn't able to react at the speed at which someone was taken away from life.

my mom,being a mom, was worried that the death in the family would affect my studies. she didn;t want me to worry too much... and said i should keep focused on finishing up my thesis. and so i did.

i really don't recall shedding a tear.

maybe it was because i distracted myself with schoolwork, but maybe because...and this is something that has been rather difficult for me to accept, and maybe it was because i didn;t feel connected with my grandma at all. i hardly knew her.

we spoke different languages... she spoke in a chinese dialect i was not familair with...and i had only one main speaking voice - english.

i've always wanted to get to know my grandma better...like ask her what she was like as a little girl, teenager, how she met my grandfather...what it was like growing up in China, what were her childhood dreams. i never got around to asking any one of that till it was too late.

i couldnlt even shed a tear for her.

the closest i've ever been to my gradma was viariously through my dad - her son.

my dad loved my grandma dearly. born during at era where "i love you"s were only reserved for lovers and wives and never to family.... i've never heard my dad tell my grandma how much he loved her. but even in his lack of words, his feelings resonated in his every action. how he would talk to her, visit her and respected her. i knew my grandma to be a resilent character only cos my dad has only earnest and full admiration for her being a strong person and a single mom. it was the manner my dad spoke to grandma, the way he listened attentively to her and the way he was so forthcoming in his care for her... i knew that my grandma was a wonderful and beautiful person.

i've always wished that i was able to get to know her while she was still alive.

but i kept pushing that day of getting to know her better off till i had more time. till it was too late.

this is a lesson i've paid for dearly cos i would have loved to ask all those questions.

i didn't realize then that i must make the time. and that there are just some things in life where there will never be a better time than now.

****

i've recently decided to leave my job.

i've always wanted to be a creative writer and have previously always thought that one day i'll finally have that luxury to leave my financially cushy job to do something that reeks of ME. being a novelist.

i think i've waited enough. i've decided that the time is now. i'm terribly excited about this... being true to myself...being honest and taking a stand for myself and saying this is who i am. all this sounds dramtic...and cliched...but this has to be what being alive is all about.

Monday, April 03, 2006

NYT: Questions Of Culture


Questions Of Culture
By DAVID BROOKS
741 words
19 February 2006
The New York Times
Late Edition - Final
12
English
Copyright 2006 The New York Times Company. All Rights Reserved. Once,
not that long ago, economics was the queen of the social sciences.
Human
beings were assumed to be profit-maximizing creatures, trending toward
reasonableness. As societies grew richer and more modern, it was
assumed, they would become more secular. As people became better
educated, primitive passions like tribalism and nationalism would fade
away and global institutions would rise to take their place. As
communications technology improved, there would be greater cooperation
and understanding. As voters became more educated, they would become
more independent-minded and rational.

None of these suppositions turned out to be true. As the world has
become richer and better educated, religion hasn't withered; it has
become stronger and more fundamentalist. Nationalism and tribalism
haven't faded away. Instead, transnational institutions like the U.N.
and the European Union are weak and in crisis.

Communications technology hasn't brought people closer together; it has
led to greater cultural segmentation, across the world and even within
the United States. Education hasn't made people moderate and
independent-minded. In the U.S. highly educated voters are more
polarized than less educated voters, and in the Arab world some of the
most educated people are also the most fanatical.

All of this has thrown a certain sort of materialistic vision into
crisis. We now know that global economic and technological forces do
not
gradually erode local cultures and values. Instead, cultures and values
shape economic development. Moreover, as people are empowered by
greater
wealth and education, cultural differences become more pronounced, not
less, as different groups chase different visions of the good life, and
react in aggressive ways to perceived slights to their cultural
dignity.


Economics, which assumes people are basically reasonable and respond
straightforwardly to incentives, is no longer queen of the social
sciences.

The events of the past years have thrown us back to the murky realms of
theology, sociology, anthropology and history. Even economists know
this, and are migrating to more behaviorialist and cultural approaches.

The fundamental change is that human beings now look less like
self-interested individuals and more like socially embedded products of
family and group. Alan Greenspan said that he once assumed that
capitalism was ''human nature.'' But after watching the collapse of the
Russian economy, he had come to consider it ''was not human nature at
all, but culture.''

During the first few years of life, parents, communities and societies
unconsciously impart ways of being and of perceiving reality that we
are
only subliminally aware of. How distinct is the individual from the
community? Does history move forward or is it cyclical? How do I
fulfill
my yearning for righteousness? What is possible and what is impossible?

The answers to these questions are wildly diverse, and once worldviews
have been absorbed, they produce wildly different levels and types of
social and cultural capital. East Asians and Jews, for example, seem to
thrive commercially wherever they settle.




It turns out that it's hard to change the destinies of nations and
individuals just by pulling economic levers. Over the past few decades,
America has transferred large amounts of money to Africa to build
factories and spur economic development. None of this has worked. As
the
economists Raghuram Rajan and Arvind Subramanian demonstrated, there is
no correlation between aid and growth.

At home, we spend more money on education than any other nation. We
have
undertaken a million experiments to restructure schools and
bureaucracies. But students who lack cultural and social capital
because
they did not come from intact, organized families continue to fall
further and further behind -- unless they come into contact with some
great mentor who can not only teach, but also change values and
behavior.

It all amounts to this: Events have forced different questions on us.
If
the big contest of the 20th century was between planned and free market
economies, the big questions of the next century will be understanding
how cultures change and can be changed, how social and cultural capital
can be nurtured and developed, how destructive cultural conflict can be
turned to healthy cultural competition.

People who think about global development are out in front in thinking
about these matters. (I'd recommend rival anthologies: ''Culture
Matters,'' edited by Lawrence Harrison and Samuel Huntington, and
''Culture and Public Action,'' edited by Vijayendra Rao and Michael
Walton.) But the rest of us will catch up soon.


*** *** ***

a friend sent me this article a couple of weeks back... a pretty interesting read that offers no answers but only more questions to the questions raised...

my two cents

Although he doesn't bring sociologist Max Weber up in this column, Brooks basically touches on weber's ideas of disenchantment and re-enchantment..

Personally speaking, there is nothing new here but this is still a perennially (usage?) provocative thread of discussion. It's been done over and over throughout history, different details, same concept of how civilizations peak at a golden age and that the tools that helped create that stage or led to it would ultimately
be the tools for its very unraveling.

upon further reading....

History is cyclical.

I'm quite tempted to agree with the theory that history seems cyclical
cos generations of human beings act out their inability to remain
either totally disenchanted or enchanted with life/the world... generations of
pple travel collectively through the spectrum...back and forth in a
spiral of time.... cos of our innate inability to handle the extremes.

This would be a great discussion piece for a sociology class.

Wish I were back in school