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The world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy to those that feel. -Horace Walpole

Name:
Location: Singapore

Tutor at NUS.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Myself

I am the sort of person who takes more than one minute to find the stapler on my desk, and in the process of doing am more likely than not to get waylaid by one of many random things strewn all over the place and forget what I originally was looking for. I am also the sort of person who waits for my in-tray to be overfilled before getting another in-tray, and only start clearing them when I realise that there's no space on my desk for a third in-tray.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

On the carpet of leaves illuminated by the moon

Though tormented by these circumstances, I managed to concentrate and subdivide the generic sensation of my sex pressed by the sex of Madame Miyagi into the compartmented sensations of the individual points of me and of her, progressively subjected to pressure by my sliding movements and her convulsive contractions. This application especially helped me to prolong the state necessary to the observation itself, delaying the precipitation of the final crisis by evincing moments of insenstivity or partial sensitivity, which in their turn merely enhanced immeasurably the immediate return of voloptuous stimuli, distributed in the unpredictictable fashion in space and time. "Makiko! Makiko!" I moaned in Madame Miyagi's ear, associating convulsively those instants of hypersensitivity with the image of her daughter and the range of sensations incomparably different which I imagined she could arouse in me. And to maintain control of my reactions I thought of the description I would make of them that same evening to Mr Okeda: the shower of little gingko leaves is characterized by the fact that in each moment each leaf that is falling is found at a different altitude from the others, whereby the empty and insensitive space in which the visual sensations are siutuated can be subdivided into a succession of levels in each of which we find one little leaf twirling and one alone.

-- Italo Calvino, If on a Winter's Night a Traveller

In times of stress I find myself finding comfort in beautiful prose and the above is one of the most enjoyable I've encountered so far. I did a quick google online and found that a popular interpretation of this section of the book involves seeing the sexual encounter as being set up by the narrator's mentor in the story. I find such a reading of the text astute and observant but also at the same time being too intelligent. The beauty of this particular story comes from the mastery of language and the imagery invoked. Even the sexual substance is secondary to the style in which it is expressed, and the whole paragraph reads as though I am listening to a nice song over and over again.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Zzz

What the hell lah today arrive in school at 715AM to experience some moments of solitude in an empty lecture theater only to find 1 person there before me the lights all turned the world is going mad people going to school so early only to read and not sit in a comfortable darkness oh and another person arrived and kept knocking her pen on the desk unrhythmically what the hell didn't know anyone can produce such terrible beats the world must be going mad mad they went to school so early and sat in the light sat in the light sheesh what the hell what the hell.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Frances Yip Concert

Went to Frances Yip's concert last night. Audience mostly senior citizens and since it was at the indoor stadium I must say I have never seen so many old people in one place before, was quite amusing.

The place is fairly big and they only opened up one entrance. So when the performance ended there was a massive bottlenecked queue, and I was quite amused when 1 old guy told a worker: why your only open 1 entrance ah, got fire everyone there die I tell you. It was so Singaporean it made me smile.

Anyway, senior citizens don't make better audience than noisy youngsters in cinemas. The old people around me were making comments while the show was going on, got irritated and changed seats after the third song.

She shared an anecdote with us that I found amusing. A year ago she was invited to an award ceremony and asked if she minded sharing the dressing room with a 16-yr old singer. She said no, and on the day of the ceremony the latter came into the room with her manager, a wardrobe stylist, a makeup stylist with two assistants, and a hairstylist with two assistants. She, on the other hand, had only her husband in the dressing room. There's just something pensive about that scene. A young and promising star being fussed over by many people on the one hand, and just Yip (who is 62) and her husband on the other.

The performance was mostly decent. Some songs weren't my type, a number were classics, a number were very good and vaguely familiar, I tried to take note of the song titles so I can get them online but since they don't have a programme booklet most of the fishes have escaped from my net. I did, however, manage to catch this particular song. The concert shown in the video has, of course, nothing to do with Frances Yip. It's just a beautiful, beautiful song.



I was about to write that I prefer the females' voices in the song than the males, then I realised that this preference would probably have not been made possible if the males weren't there to sing in a lower pitch, so that the females' higher pitch is better contrasted.

The video can't capture the full beauty of the song though, the symphonic music is too indistinct, you need to hear the violins and percussion and the other instruments blend with the vocals. When I hear such delightful music I get the feeling that life is beautiful.

Anyway think during the intermission go toilet got a few people humming the tune.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Sigh

From a Survivor

The pact that we made was the ordinary pact
of men & women in those days

I don’t know who we thought we were
that our personalities
could resist the failures of the race

Lucky or unlucky, we didn’t know
the race had failures of that order
and that we were going to share them

Like everybody else, we thought of ourselves as special

Your body is as vivid to me
as it ever was: even more

since my feeling for it is clearer:
I know what it could and could not do

it is no longer
the body of a god
or anything with power over my life

Next year it would have been 20 years
and you are wastefully dead
who might have made the leap
we talked, too late, of making

which I live now
not as a leap
but a succession of brief, amazing movements

each one making possible the next

-Adrienne Rich (1973)

Do you find this poem dark? I don't.

My classmates find this poem dark. I don't.

I asked my tutor today about the difference between free verse and prose, and suggested that the former is always reducible to the latter. He told me that free verse has the distinct advantage of making a certain imagery or statement more impactful, and illustrated this using the same example I used in making my case that there is essentially no difference between free verse and prose.

I am quite convinced by his argument and I think I owe a silent apology to the many poems I have dismissed on the ground that they were essentially prose with line breaks, as well as the poets who wrote them.

I am very weak in poetry.

As well as literary studies.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

I am, at the very least, an occasional litterbug

Today is one of those remarkable days because my tutor argued with a few students during tutorial, to the point where voices were raised and tensions were quite high. A student even insinuated that he is a poor teacher when he said a good teacher would always encourage discussion in the class. In response the teacher asked the rest of the class to bear witness to the fact that he already allowed another student two chances to present his case, and that he had clearly refuted both that student's arguments in an intellectual way.

Anyway, it all started from an intellectual disagreement between the teacher and some students. A student had presented a shorter method to a question which gave the same answer as the teacher's longer's method. The teacher argued that while both methods gave the same answer, they are not the same and his method is more mathematically sound. (Was a qns on probability, and his method clearly listed out all cases; the students' version didn't, though it yielded the same answer) Some students attempted to show how their shorter method is the same as the longer method. The teacher then disputed their interpretation of his method, saying the way they presented it is not the same as the solution he presented, and thus they were making a non-argument by trying to show that students method = teacher's method. The students argued that while the first step was different, it IS still the same if the teacher would allow them to elaborate further, but the teacher said no, it cannot be the case that the method they interpretated as his is really his when the first step is wrong and modifications are added in later steps to manipulate it back to look like his method. That's where things started to get ugly.

I am more inclined towards the teacher's position in part because the way I answered the question was similar to his, but also because I think the students were not being critical enough of their own presentation. I suspect what they felt was that the teacher was picking on a small detail instead of focusing on their argument, which is that students method = teacher's method.

And though the 2 cases are somewhat different, I felt the same way during the tutorial as I do when someone goes 'tsk' when someone else asks, can you prove that I exist? or can you prove that WWII actually happened, as if the answer to those questions is so obvious as to be regarded as true and not worthy of discussion.

Both mathematics and philosophy, I think, attempt to prove certain fundamental things in life that we all take for granted. Take, for example, the probability that event E will happen and the probability event E won't happen is always equal to one, ie P(E) + P(not E) = 1. According to the tutor this hasn't been proven yet, and yet so much of our theories are based on that and it seems so intuitively correct that we may feel that it cannot be wrong. Take, for example, the historical *fact* that WWII happened. How does one go about proving this is the case? I don't think photos and eyewitnesses accounts and evidence of architecture succeeds in doing that.

Today is also a remarkable day because I had a very nice game of chess with someone. Was a relatively long game, over 1.5 hours, lost in the end but I was literally trembling with adrenalin when I made a sacrifice to mount an offensive. There was so many permutations I think I must have thought for 15 minutes on that move alone, maybe will have to run it through a computer program or something to check where I went wrong in the attack, or whether it could have been mate in the first place. I like playing chess not because it gives intellectual pleasure, or because it gives a sense of satisfaction in employing tactics and all that, but because chess to me is another expression of creativity and individuality. Attempting to always express creativity in the usual medium (eg. literature and the arts) is in itself uncreative, and a tactical, arguably rule-based game like chess paradoxically becomes a creative game precisely because it is not usually associated with art. The individuality part is pretty self-evident when you see different sorts of players opting for different openings and going for different styles of play.

Today is also a remarkable day because on the way home I thought of a question that may potentially be the definitive question I can ask to evaluate whether someone can be my girlfriend. You know how people tend to have some list of criteria that they would like a potential suitor to have? I don't believe in such things, but if I were to compelled to come up with a filter system it would have only two aspects. The first is, she must be intelligent. I don't mean intelligent in the academic way, I don't mean intelligent in the intelligent way. I mean intelligent in the think-about-life kind of way. Elaboration maybe some other time or never. The second aspect would be her answer to the question that I thought of on a remarkable day home, and that is: are you, at the very least, an occasional litterbug?

Friday, February 06, 2009

Poor character development and plot in Benjamin Button

Benjamin Button so-so I guess, maybe around 2.8 to 3 stars. The reason why I like giving decimal places is to further differentiate between films as well as to give a more descriptive account of the film.

For the record, Milk gets 3.99 stars and Ponyo 4.25/4.5 under my entirely personal rating scheme. Milk gets 3.99 because: the middle was a little draggy, but the ending was very good for me. One may therefore give the middle 3 stars and the ending 5 and 4 stars for the show as a whole, but to me a 4 star show has to be consistently good throughout. So even if a show has an average beginning and a flawless middle and end the maximum it can go under my scheme would be 3.99 stars.

Got many stuffs I would like to say but I'm pretty tired now, so I'll just leave you with a comic strip.

Cow & Boy

5 stars for me.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Zzzzzzz

In the past I liked seating in unoccupied, unlit lecture theatres because 1) they're quiet, 2) they're usually cool 3) they're very quiet.

Today I arrived half an hour early for a 8am lecture. I went ahead to the lecture venue and yes it was dark and nobody was around. The experience was good. There was a low humming sound which shared the moment with me, something like the hum of a spacecraft you see on TV. But I think I still prefer perfect silence.

I only got to enjoy the tranquility for ten minutes because two students turned on the lights and came in, and that was when I realised that the thought of looking for the switch had never occured to me.

I'm thinking of staying overnight inside, you're welcome to join.

Sunday, February 01, 2009

Agree

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/jan/27/david-attenborough-science

"They always mean beautiful things like hummingbirds. I always reply by saying that I think of a little child in east Africa with a worm burrowing through his eyeball. The worm cannot live in any other way, except by burrowing through eyeballs. I find that hard to reconcile with the notion of a divine and benevolent creator."