March 2003

Last Minute Man - 3/18/2003





I just got back from climbing / walking up Mt Ophir in Johor. Twas a great experience and the view and being in the outdoors was a wonderful experience. I must say that it was a kinda blessing in disguise that the trekking kids asked me along (male chaperone) last minute cause I probably would never have gone.

It's probably the craziest thing I've done in a long time cause they asked me the day before they were leaving - and yes while it was merely to Malaysia, it's not everyday that you decide to climb a mountain and sleep in a tent the very next day ...

And it's also given me greater insight into the workings of the senir admin of the school, the double crossing hypocrisy that operates almost as a governing principle. Having been in two schools up and having witnessed the behind the scenes scheming and downright lack of integrity on the part of the senior admin, I must say that I am totally qualified to affirm that it's disgusting.

Most of us gripe and complain about the inefficencies of the administration in schools; that the bureaucratic tape is overwheling and that all school leaders care about are the results. But I've witnessed up close how school leaders lack integrity, lie and try to push the blame for their oversight on innocent individuals, behaviour that cannot be condoned but somehow is because we are all awed by the authority that position brings.

At least the trip went off well and there were memorable moments. I suppose acting according to a set of higher beliefs, beliefs that define you as a teacher beyond the boundaries and limitations set by the ministry or by an institution, will somehow pay off in some way. Not that I'm advocating rebellious behaviour: just that I'll refuse to allow the inadequacies of a system limit what I can do. I guess that's a pretty bold claim, but one that I'll try my best to stick with.

For now at least.





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hey juz felt like telling u u're a wonderful teacher. missya and our class=) [É÷÷\]

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Yupz, thankx Mr Lim for coming on thursday nite.Even though I didn't really get to talk to u but i appreciate what u did for us and the main team.=)

Mag

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at least you still enjoy teaching! =) [i||uXioN]

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good for you ;) [downwardspiraltohell]

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So it's come to this - 3/27/2003





So it's come to this. He muttered sitting in a room filled with books. Stacks running from floor to wall with hardly any space between them. So it's come to this moment when I make a choice between reading and living. I never thought it possible that spheres could be kept apart so neatly. But they've managed it. And now it's come to this moment when the choice I make between reading and living is no longer metaphor but is literal. He paused for a moment, recalling the way he used to record his thoughts on the page. But this was not a moment for writing or scribbling and he quickly cancelled the impulse to look helplessly about the room for a piece of paper.

"So? Your decision?" The gnarled voice gripped at his throat.

And he felt the pain immediately. Not as a psychic band tightening around his brain but as a sharp penetration and he wincing uncontrollably couldn't answer. Gasping, he tried to stay on his feet as he lashed out at the books, hoping that they would provide some kind of support.

They'd wired him. No wonder he felt the words so keenly.

I feel my hands: they're awkward in this room. Salty from sweat and palms wet with exhaustion. I taste the encrustation of grime which gathers at the corners or my cracked lips and my hair matted from days of being kept apart from any source of running water. And I grasp for my torso, a reassurance that they've not shorn me into bits and merely retrieved my memory. It's there. I gather myself into a ball, but these are difficult times to be shape perfect and I merely manage to curl up fetal-like.





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*blur* [AnGeL^6587]

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Another View - 3/27/2003





From here, it's quiet. Like the opening of a pack of chips expertly done, the sun light slices into two neat sides the package that was the room. Cutting through the window grilles, the light menaces for a moment but quickly dances across the parquet floor. It's like they say slogan-like, "It's A Brand New Day!" And you crave for a sense of optimism that will shield you from the ravages of living with yourself. You hope that cliches will leave their mark, another branding of sorts, so that you'll be counted and possessed by newness. Opening your eyes to the sun isn't easy when you've got them shut for such a long time but the pain is better to keeping them cloistered and holed up in the uncertainty of the dark. Even when the shades are drawn and most of the sunlight comes through quietly, it's the rays that manage to get in sharply that become all that matters. While the artificial sounds of the morning - the running of car engines, the loud playing CNN broadcast, the rattling of loose gates flung open - rouse you, only the eyes fully opened and taking in the newness of the hour counts as an invitation to take your place in the scheme of things once again.

I potter for a moment. I totter for a second at the top of the stairs as my feet do the slow shuffle down the wooden steps. I haven't counted them in a long while for I am normally in a rush but today my good sense tells me to check that there are still thirteen to the first landing and five thereafter. Thirteen steps to plonk down when I was younger, hearing the reverberating tock of steps that had gone hollow, rotten inside. Then a big finish - yes folks - put your hands together for a big finish - yes he's going to jump from the landing down the final five ...

I greet the similarity of each morning with a dull reply for coffee. I don't really read the papers. I just stare at the obscene intrusion of these pictures into the space that is the kitchen and my mind. All the World comes to me, seeking an audience, and I get irritated. But quickly I fill my sense with the sights and sounds (the news on TV and radio) and the Media is a drug that gets me going.







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So it's come to this ( additions) - 3/27/2003





So it's come to this. He muttered sitting in a room filled with books. Stacks running from floor to wall with hardly any space between them. So it's come to this moment when I make a choice between reading and living. I never thought it possible that spheres could be kept apart so neatly. But they've managed it. And now it's come to this moment when the choice I make between reading and living is no longer metaphor but becomes literal. He paused for a moment, recalling the way he used to record his thoughts on the page. But this was not a moment for writing or scribbling and he quickly cancelled the impulse to look helplessly about the room for a piece of paper.

"So? Your decision?" The gnarled voice gripped at his throat.

And he felt the pain immediately. Not as a psychic band tightening around his brain but as a sharp penetration and he wincing uncontrollably couldn't answer. Gasping, he tried to stay on his feet as he lashed out at the books, hoping that they would provide some kind of support.

They'd wired him. No wonder he felt the words so keenly.

I feel my hands: they're awkward in this room. Salty from sweat and palms wet with exhaustion. I taste the encrustation of grime which gathers at the corners or my cracked lips and my hair matted from days of being kept apart from any source of running water. And I grasp for my torso, a reassurance that they've not shorn me into bits and merely retrieved my memory. It's there. I gather myself into a ball, but these are difficult times to be shape perfect and I merely manage to curl up fetal-like.

The slogan read "In an Age of Total Information, Who Needs Books?" It hung, a silent couplet at the edge of the room's doors. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he peered carefully about. The books where still there. Perhaps he should venture to open one of them. But the thought lapsed into a question and turned upon itself. But what if they see you reading? The couplet on the wall shifted its figurations and now read "Total Information: All You Ever Need To Know"







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hmm.. something for me to study in the extra one week holidays... haha.. [i||uXioN]

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[Enfant Terrible]

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hi! i 'stumbled' across your diary and decided to read it. i hope you don't mind me reading it.

i think you are a great teacher. i'm sure you have great students too.

*stumbled: when i was browsing through the list of singaporean diarist aged over 25 [b|dent]

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Being a Cynic

I've been accused (once again) of being a cynic. This being Valentine's Day, I couldn't help but make some observations about commercialism rampant and the fact that much of the gift giving (and receiving) is hype. A play on the emotions for commercial profit, of course these comments (and more - I must admit I was having fun insulting the trinkets and the fluff and the flowers and the sweets) drew some flak from those who were laden with the bounties of Valentine's Day.
"You're a cynic!""You're just sore that you didn't get anything for Valentine's Day!" (Done with much waving of fuzzy flowers in my face)"You're mean!"
If you told me "Happy Valentine's Day" and I said "I don't believe in Valentine's Day", where does that leave the conversation? Is it not an attempt, and invitation to examine the social conventions that mark this Feb the 14th? Is any occassion "beyond" the marking of convention? So being called a cynic in my face, I will explore that mode of existence:
Little known fact I suppose, by people that call others "cynical", as if it were a term of derision - the Cynics were an important philosophical school of Ancient Greece. Diogenes (320 BC), a key philosopher of this school, believed that stoic simplicity was crucial in battling the luxuries that he found his frivolous age enamoured with. He not only held a disregard for luxury but had a disregard for convention as well. Traditional laws and social organisations he felt, were props which man could do without. He sought to show that man could live free from these externalities. Crates, a pupil of Diogenes', made it his mission to castigate vice and pretense. He wrote satires which exposed the philosophical pretenses of other treatises. All in all, a cynical view seeks to expose in order to get at truth.
I've never pegged myself a cynic. It's too awesome and unpopular a role. To dare to speak your mind in the face of overwhelming opposition is both admirable and scary. But when confronted with blatant injustices, imbalances or just plain silliness of our existence, surely some kind of utterance, in the name of approaching truth, must be made. I understand the attraction of redeeming illusions, having lived under many in my time, but at least let those illusions you cling to be redeeming.
I also think my criticism (rather than cynicism) is often directed at situations or figures of authority. I tend to believe the best of the underdog but am always highly suspicious of persons in positions of power. Which is perhaps why, as a teacher, I've abnegated much of the power and authority that the role should possess. My cynicism, in a sense, bites back. But that in part, is living as you believe.
But cynicism is selective isn't it? The wonderful thing about attitudes is that we choose rather arbitrarily to apply them, with force or for enjoyment's sake. It isn't a creed but a tremendous critical resource that can be called up to maintain your sense of individuality. It is precisely the arbitrary application of any critque, the angularity of thought perhaps, that strives towards the preservation of the self.
So there's no crusading on the part of this cynic (if you insist on calling him that) and I'm sure that there are many people out there who are much more cynical than I am, about a host of things that I believe naively in (such as the belief that ppl really love to write GP essays!).
So if you said "Happy Valentine's Day", I'd still tell you that I don't believe in it - an invitation of course for further conversation ...

Reading / Re-reading

If hunger didn't explain things properly maybe thirst would. The bloated stomach lay clumsily above his belt, a permanent fixture that drew the gaze of every person that came near. The uncomfortable buttons drew the uneven ends of the shirt to an awkward juncture, where the checks met uneasily. He yawned in time with his growling stomach, eager to produce the rhythmic sensation that would repeat itself from body through voice into language. Sucking the air in with the force of a gulp, he listened for the moment when his ears would stop to buzz as he swallowed the gasp and stifled another yawn. Perhaps it was the whisper of hearing his own crackling voice that drew him to experiment with sounds that weren't intelligible. Saliva builds when you don't speak and this began to slosh around in his mouth. He fingered the creases which competed with the prints on his shirt and caved in suddenly, his head hitting the computer screen.

"Once in idleness was my beginning" Lawrence Durrell

The Problems of being Modern

Is one that pits theoretical inaction and the need to DO something to change the predicament the modernist finds himself in. Of course the assumption of predicament is itself questionable as the thought hardly crosses the minds of most individuals. But caught up in the realities of day to day living, trapped in this recession (that's not what they're calling it yet are they) the dense realities of navigating through these huge systems and structures that are products of modernity loom large. It isn't merely a pragmatic mind that learns to deal with these realities. A mind with a highly theoretical bent unavoidably delves into the minutae of everyday life precisely because it is unable to extricate itself from the imaginary chasm between theory and life. The systems and structures of modernity ensure that this is so. We are plunged into its forest of symbolism, without even realising that our world of realities is largely symbolic.
Chinese New Year? Yes. A world of symbolism surely and much of it traditional. But consider the Ang Bao-Hong Bao-Red Packet. A symbol of luck and fortune. But what does it contain? Another symbol - currency. So does the auspiciousness of the red the weight of the symbolism or does the money inside do that? If they both do, do they compete to undermine the symbolic power of the other? Is currency symbolic in a different way here - not merely referring to the power to buy but also pointing towards luck prosperity and fortune? And what if you received notes in a foreign currency? I used to get Hong Baos in Ringget (symbolic tensions come into play in the rhetorical turbulence of these times - symbols of prosperity are intensely nationalistic) and would have to execute an exchange of currencies in my attempt to step away from the multiple symbols and transform my takings into usable cash. Another symbolic transaction. And what of the purely symbolic Hong Bao then - the empty Hong Bao. I've been using the symbolic Hong Bao as an excuse:

"If I gave you a Hong Bao and you only found $2 in it, you would know that I am cheap. But if I never gave you a Hong Bao, there would always be the nagging "what if ..." lingering in your mind ..."

And so value (both monetary and judgement on me) is deferred. And so Derrida meets the bad joke.

But what if I didn't pause to bother about these replications of theory in life? What if I mouthed new year geetings, handed out red packets and waited one year just to do it all over again? Theory is intensely relevant - the above demonstrates our complicity in a highly dislocated sense of tradition and community - but its absence is always appreciated, never missed.

Cultural criticism doesn't need to assert its relevance in an intensely modern age. It makes lucid the nature of the entanglements that we often hardly respond to, entanglements that we sullenly term tradition and culture.

Jan 2003

a question - 1/8/2003

totally functional here - do pple know which schools are reading Romeo and Juliet for Lit? Are there schools reading Julius Caesar, Midsummer Night's Dream, Macbeth, Hamlet or King Lear too? I'd like to find out - any information will be rewarded with much gratitude from me!

School's starting slow - am teaching the same classes as last year which means all J2s. That's a good cause I don't need to learn names. It also means I get to work with individuals that I already know. The problem might be typecasting individuals but I'm very aware of the possibility of doing that am have made a mental note not to.

Not even a full week of school - and - my class file's been misplaced! I figure some teacher took it to look at and didn't bother putting it back. I WANT MY FILE BACK! Being as disorganised as I am I'm really rather proud of how conscientious I was in filing stuff into that file last year. It was last spotted in the holidays so someone's probably holding on to it. Unless someone's out to sabotage ... Then again, it's just an awful lot of trouble to go through just to inconvenience me! I shall believe the best of those in the teaching profession - but I WANT MY FILE BACK!







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Hey! I cant sleep so I am leaving people random notes. Come by my diary sometime and drop me a note whenever you can. Hope you have a great week.



xoxo~Janae [*~*Confused*~*]

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What grade are you teaching? I think that typecasting occurs at every grade but it most significant inseconday education teachers.



Not saying that this is you.



Anyways, best of luck!! [cha-cha]

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Lit teacher huh~ I love Lit... =) [Ah_VoNz]

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I'm doing King Lear for S paper... =\ [Grandioso]

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apparently sec 2 mainstream is doing er macbath...

visit my blog at http://anonymousnoises.blogspot.com [disInspired]

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yup i'm doing macbeth and julius caesar as part of s level lit too... [Disturbia]

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Mr Lim, how's life? =) Hope u've been really fine..
Do take care and stay happy. [*white starz*]

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haha.. your file may never come back!! =P anyway to my greatest pleasure, i am not doing anything u mentioned. me doing much ado about nothing, mayor of casterbridge, silas marner, rosencrantz and guildenstern plus some other things we haven't buy yet... =) [i||uXioN]

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Just read this entry of yours.. I'm doing Julius Caesar for the Os. The school's CHIJ. toapayoh.. [Contusion.]

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rvhs

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Lousy Lesson - 1/15/2003





Gave a lousy lesson today. It's week 2 and already we had a lousy lesson. It was supposed to be a writing activity - what I've come to call a micro-skills lesson where the focus isn't on the big picture but on a very technical aspect of writing. Anyway the key was to USE statistics in writing. Most people think that writing with statistics is merely a process of lumping your statistics in after you've made your point. That's one way of doing it. But it's inelegant and often leads to lots of questions about the relevance of the statistic and whether the statistic can indeed support the argument. For example most students would write something like this:

"Our educational system is elitist. Out of the 200 000 secondary school students, only about 2000 will benefit from the new through train proposals."

That's acceptable I suppose. But's it's bare minimum (and trust me - many don't even get around to using a statistic) But with practice, I believe the kids can turn out bits like this:

"With only 2000 out of 200 000 students benefiting from the gains of the newly proposed through train system, it is not surprising that the reforms are widely regarded to favour only the elite. Elitism seems to be deeply entrenched in Singapore's education philosophy."

Of course there were the sensible ones that actually got to work. But then there were those who felt that the lesson was either a waste of their time (as they saw no need to improve their ability to use stats) or an opportunity to slack off.

I should have been clearer I guess about the rationale behind the whole thing. I should have been insistent about the value of the work.

Instead I let it slide into a sigh and allowed De-motivation and Distraction to have a field day.

I guess some the frustration lies in the knowledge that it was a good lesson, in its conception but was poorly executed. But then again you take a risk whenever you invite a class to believe along with you that a piece of writing / or the act of writing is worth participating in. The risk of students producing "just enough". The risk of students not sharing in the belief that one can write in order to improve what one is able to write.





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that's the slackers' "style"! =D [§pSycHic§]

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I'm sorry if that was my class...and it probably was...and the slackers were probably my clique off guys...just hope that you don't take it too personally...i always thought that education is unable to benefit those who are passive towards learning, and often you can't help those who actively resist it. so you can't see it as ur own fault can u? =) [eagle eye]

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Well, I could tell you I'm sorry if it matters to you. I'm sorry. When you mentioned that the lesson was good at time of conception, maybe you could have included an estimate of the level of enthusiasm it would have achieved. Because stats are mercenaries of attention. They only benefit those who remember them. They aren't purposeful. It's the argument that validates their purpose. -the noisy one.

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yeah well, the lesson didn't seem to have been designed to really inspire anyone to write. let's always do fun things for lessons instead! ^_^ [lassitude]

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i think it is because we tend to take things that are not graded lightly (or we take things that are graded too importantly). yet to insist consistent value is to put more stress on the lesson that it might very well kill the creativity and open-mindedness derived from this 'take-it-easy' attitude. its a kind of trade-off i guess...

-exu- (i am one of the 5 guys eagle eye mentioned =P)

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Dec 2002

Whining about Dining - 12/2/2002









Even If you knew that "semi-formal" meant "not black tie" which means wear a suit ... would you deck yourself in a stuffy suit and a non-matching tie? Taking the chance that this is Singapore and it's HOT, I didn't and ended up being the only person in a room of suits that wasn't in a suit. (I did however wear my very nice brown mandarin collar shirt, and a proper pair of trousers ... the hip-pouch however did give me away somewhat...) Anyway, it shouldn't matter. People probably make concension for the fact, "This one teacher, doesn't understand the ways of the world."

'Twas a JC classmate's wedding dinner. It was pleasant and all. Person I sat next to had interesting things to say all evening. He'd been a JC classmate as well. I tend to be awfully quiet at these events and laugh to myself at the pretentiousness of the conversation (some of it at least). I guess the eavesdropping didn't go unnoticed as the person next to me made the occassional remark about the betrayal of my facial expressions.

Anyway there were some pple at my table whom I had been classmates with since Sec 1. (Yes - the ACS boys that went to RJ is the apt description of us ... ) Yet we're worlds apart right now. Them living their lives in corporate big time and me, well living my life on holiday. Which is as much as anyone says when they meet me, "Eh, teacher right? On holiday now right?"

So to everyone who is still in possession of yourself. Make life and conversation meaningful - before it all becomes cliche and inane!









Off To NY - 12/3/2002







Will be off tomorrow to NY to see Ms Tan. Won't be doing much except mooch around the city. But then there'll be lots to look at hear and think about in NY anyway. I'm quite intent on documenting snippets of the trip so I'll try to post observations and a link to pictures here (the first real outing for my digicam!)

So stay tuned.







Off To NY - 12/3/2002







Will be off tomorrow to NY to see Ms Tan. Won't be doing much except mooch around the city. But then there'll be lots to look at hear and think about in NY anyway. I'm quite intent on documenting snippets of the trip so I'll try to post observations and a link to pictures here (the first real outing for my digicam!)

So stay tuned.

Testing - link to photos

Check











New York New York! - 12/6/2002







Am finally in NY after 23 hours ++ on a plane. I must say the flying was quite boring. Watched many movies and was so bored I even went to the toilet to take a photo of myself!

Everything went well except that during the transit in Frankfrut I wandered a little far off and found myself outside the checked in area and had to take a long de-tour to get back in ... other than that it was pretty unadventurous.

New York snowed the day I got in! Which was pretty special as it hadn't snowed yet and isn't supposed to. After meeting Edna at the Airport we took a train (the A train referred to by Ellington and Strayhorn, actually for those jazz enthusiasts out there!) to get back to her dorm. On the way we had lunch at Tom's Restraunt - which was the Seinfield diner. It was really cold and snow was just falling continuously and so we made the resolution to get me some proper shoes later in the evening.

So we went out in the evening - a little scary with weird men muttering strange things in the train. Actually the subway can be quite a scary place - I'm really impressed that Edna's been commuting all alone on it. Anyway - everyone just looks at each other and because there's such ethnic diversity, you can't help but notice the different styles.

Walked by ground zero and saw the construction going on at night. Thought it would be rude to take photos though so didn't. Bought some pretty tough looking Timberlands.

Next morning - we visited Central Park. It's lovely in the snow - really like a winter wonderland. Met a Dog and his owner and played with the dog a bit. Played around in the snow and trudged around. It's really stimulating for the senses to be in a space that is so different seasonally from Singapore.

Check out the pictures. They're not in order - my mistake - I'll number the next batch so that they make sense chronologically!





4-6 Dec







More from New York - 12/9/2002







Sat, we walked the Brooklyn Bridge which connects Manhatten (which is mainly where people think all of NY is) with one of its boroughs, Brooklyn. The Bridge is supposed to be an architectural marvel, being the longest suspension bridge at the time that it was built. More significantly, it changed the social landscape of NY, linking two separate cities, and making them one. It's a pleasant walk over the bridge. There's a walkway over the traffic and the swirl of the wind forces you to keep walking. Conversation is swallowed by the wind and one makes the crossing alone. Hart Crane wrote an inaccessible but awfully stirring poem in his idealised age of the machine. Several early 20th century American artists also intepreted the bridge. I suppose it was a time of hihg optimisim about what the wonders of steel and cable could do for humanity.

In Brooklyn, we ate at Grimaldi's. There was actually a queue even before it opened. It's been rated the best pizza place in NY for several years and they're brazen enough to tell you they won't do deliveries or slices - they don't need the extra business. And they don't have fancy sides. Just Pizza - and you choose the topping. No cute names or garlic bread. And it's really good pizza. Ms Tan and I managed to easily put away a small (which was a 16 inch). And I could have easily polished off another one ...

Next day. Ms Tan had to study so I wandered around the Museum Mile (so its called) alone. Was nice cause I walked through Central Park and had some time to look at the buildings. Visited the Guggenheim and the Whitney. Spent 2 hours in each. Nice being able to see some of these Modern Art pieces that you've only encountered in books. The scale of some of the pieces, the sheer magnitude of paint stretching itself across canvas, was itself an enthralling experience.

Got back and had dinner with some Singaporeans living in NY.

Dec 7-9







More of NY - 12/12/2002







Been exploring more of NY. Have been to many music and bookstores. Apart from Tower, Virgin, Barnes and Noble, HMV, there are quite a number of smaller bookstores as well. Have been spending hours in them. I think there was a day I spent like 4 hours in three second hand bookstores. Anyway there's like this mega 2nd hand bookstore called the Strand ... it claims to have 8 miles of books - it's really great - lots of obscure crit books at half price too. Found an autobiography of Hart Crane that I've been reading. Sadly, I haven't been able to locate 2nd hand Delany. I figure I'll just have to get new copies ... which Barnes and Noble does stock.

Managed to visit the Columbia Libraries as well. There are many but the main one, for the Arts and Humanities is this huge building called the Butler Library. Am quite pleased that I actually qualify for membership cause Ms Tan is studying here! got my library card made in less than 20 mins (which is a lot more efficent than SOME institutions of higher learning that I'm acquainted with ...) and explored the library. It's a wonderful place. The books are in these cell like rooms with low ceilings that are like shut off from the main library. So you have to know what you want and then take a trip to "the stacks". Pretty much like a labyrinth, with 12 floors of stacks ...

Managed to visit the NY Public Library as well. It's an all reference library with gorgeous interiors. The amazing thing is the commitment that NYorkers put into preserving these buildings and giving funds for these institutions to be preserved.

Walked around 5th Avenue, the Rockafeller (?) centre Times Square, the UN (!), Greenwich Village too. The weather's been nice except for when it rained and when the wind blows - just chills you to the bone.

Visited a Jazz club called the iridium - ron carter was playing. A very short set but highly satisfying. His percussionist was excellent - inventive and appropriate.

Been spending too much on books and CDs - need to show some self restraint ... the damaages thus far:

Books -
The Broken Tower - Biography of Hart Crane
Forbidden Knowledge - From Prometheus to Pornography
The Illusion of Power - political theatre in the English Renaissance
Alternative Shakespeares - edited by John Drakakis
The subject of Tragedy - Identity and difference in Renaissance Drama
Shakespeare Left and Right
All that is solid melts into air - Berman Marshall
Sweet Tragedy - Terry Eagleton
The Book of Laughter and Forgetting (not for me!)
this week's edition of the New Yorker - couldn't resist - it's damn cheap compared to back home at the Holland V mama shop ...

CDs
Pithecanthropus Erectus - Charles Mingus
Free Jazz - Ornette Coleman
Inner Urge - Joe Henderson
Big Train - Wynton Marsalis
Juju - Wayne Shorter
Compilation - McCoy Tyner Big Band

And I have been resisting buying Videos and DVDs ...

Will try to watch a musical soon. Am gunning for "Harlem Song" cause it's showing at the Apollo Theatre - which is supposed to be the heart of Afro-American art in NY, is about the history of Harlem, isn't in crowded Times Square but is up here in Harlem, and is damn cheap compared to Broadway ... see how maybe will go for the Sat Matinee.

More Pics







Home home - 12/23/2002







Just got back. Tired man. Weather is suffocating. Muggy is the word. Getting off the plane is always difficult to do. At least there's the new year to look forward to. With each leaving, a return insists on writing itself, even if it never materialises. a mushy, corny anecdote. Leaving for NY on Dec 4, the plane was delayed. So the KrisWorld entertainment panel was playing even before the plane left the ground. I was listening to channel 3, which plays songs from musicals. As the plane took off, the channel played the Nicole Kidman number from Moulin Rouge, One Day I'll Fly Away - how fitting I thought. Except that our yesterdays are never left behind. Anyway - I'm allowed to sentimentally think that there's a better life somewhere away from here...

I follow the night
Can't stand the light
When will I begin
To live again?

One day I'll fly away
Leave all this to yesterday
What more could your Love do for me?
When will Love be through with me?

Why live life from dream to dream?
And dread the day when dreaming ends

One day I'll fly away
Leave all this to yesterday
Why live life from dream to dream?
And dread the day when dreaming ends

One day I'll fly away
Fly, fly away

Meanwhile, Ms Tan is really happy to be back for a short three weeks. That's nice.









TV - 12/29/2002







Tonight, I'll watch TV by staring out across the street into the House that's right opposite cause the Guy there owns a TV set so big that he had to build whol room just to make sure it fit. In doing so I become the purveyor of the Irrelevant and strange, noticing the changing colours on his monitr but not comprehending the wordless lip movements of those spots on the screen. Actually from this Distance, I still make out the faces but because it's Channel 8 I don't recognise the expressions and cannot put names to the faces. Tonight while I stare through layers of glass I remember that this would be a thought worth documenting as I peep into a world far beyond myself - into some one else's living room.

New York Trip Dec 2002

Off To NY - 12/3/2002

Will be off tomorrow to NY to see Ms Tan. Won't be doing much except mooch around the city. But then there'll be lots to look at hear and think about in NY anyway. I'm quite intent on documenting snippets of the trip so I'll try to post observations and a link to pictures here (the first real outing for my digicam!)

So stay tuned.

New York New York! - 12/6/2002


Am finally in NY after 23 hours ++ on a plane. I must say the flying was quite boring. Watched many movies and was so bored I even went to the toilet to take a photo of myself!

Everything went well except that during the transit in Frankfrut I wandered a little far off and found myself outside the checked in area and had to take a long de-tour to get back in ... other than that it was pretty unadventurous.

New York snowed the day I got in! Which was pretty special as it hadn't snowed yet and isn't supposed to. After meeting Edna at the Airport we took a train (the A train referred to by Ellington and Strayhorn, actually for those jazz enthusiasts out there!) to get back to her dorm. On the way we had lunch at Tom's Restraunt - which was the Seinfield diner. It was really cold and snow was just falling continuously and so we made the resolution to get me some proper shoes later in the evening.

So we went out in the evening - a little scary with weird men muttering strange things in the train. Actually the subway can be quite a scary place - I'm really impressed that Edna's been commuting all alone on it. Anyway - everyone just looks at each other and because there's such ethnic diversity, you can't help but notice the different styles.

Walked by ground zero and saw the construction going on at night. Thought it would be rude to take photos though so didn't. Bought some pretty tough looking Timberlands.

Next morning - we visited Central Park. It's lovely in the snow - really like a winter wonderland. Met a Dog and his owner and played with the dog a bit. Played around in the snow and trudged around. It's really stimulating for the senses to be in a space that is so different seasonally from Singapore.
Check out the pictures. They're not in order - my mistake - I'll number the next batch so that they make sense chronologically!

More from New York - 12/9/2002

Sat, we walked the Brooklyn Bridge which connects Manhatten (which is mainly where people think all of NY is) with one of its boroughs, Brooklyn. The Bridge is supposed to be an architectural marvel, being the longest suspension bridge at the time that it was built. More significantly, it changed the social landscape of NY, linking two separate cities, and making them one. It's a pleasant walk over the bridge. There's a walkway over the traffic and the swirl of the wind forces you to keep walking. Conversation is swallowed by the wind and one makes the crossing alone. Hart Crane wrote an inaccessible but awfully stirring poem in his idealised age of the machine. Several early 20th century American artists also intepreted the bridge. I suppose it was a time of hihg optimisim about what the wonders of steel and cable could do for humanity.

In Brooklyn, we ate at Grimaldi's. There was actually a queue even before it opened. It's been rated the best pizza place in NY for several years and they're brazen enough to tell you they won't do deliveries or slices - they don't need the extra business. And they don't have fancy sides. Just Pizza - and you choose the topping. No cute names or garlic bread. And it's really good pizza. Ms Tan and I managed to easily put away a small (which was a 16 inch). And I could have easily polished off another one ...

Next day. Ms Tan had to study so I wandered around the Museum Mile (so its called) alone. Was nice cause I walked through Central Park and had some time to look at the buildings. Visited the Guggenheim and the Whitney. Spent 2 hours in each. Nice being able to see some of these Modern Art pieces that you've only encountered in books. The scale of some of the pieces, the sheer magnitude of paint stretching itself across canvas, was itself an enthralling experience.

Got back and had dinner with some Singaporeans living in NY.

More of NY - 12/12/2002

Been exploring more of NY. Have been to many music and bookstores. Apart from Tower, Virgin, Barnes and Noble, HMV, there are quite a number of smaller bookstores as well. Have been spending hours in them. I think there was a day I spent like 4 hours in three second hand bookstores. Anyway there's like this mega 2nd hand bookstore called the Strand ... it claims to have 8 miles of books - it's really great - lots of obscure crit books at half price too. Found an autobiography of Hart Crane that I've been reading. Sadly, I haven't been able to locate 2nd hand Delany. I figure I'll just have to get new copies ... which Barnes and Noble does stock.

Managed to visit the Columbia Libraries as well. There are many but the main one, for the Arts and Humanities is this huge building called the Butler Library. Am quite pleased that I actually qualify for membership cause Ms Tan is studying here! got my library card made in less than 20 mins (which is a lot more efficent than SOME institutions of higher learning that I'm acquainted with ...) and explored the library. It's a wonderful place. The books are in these cell like rooms with low ceilings that are like shut off from the main library. So you have to know what you want and then take a trip to "the stacks". Pretty much like a labyrinth, with 12 floors of stacks ...

Managed to visit the NY Public Library as well. It's an all reference library with gorgeous interiors. The amazing thing is the commitment that NYorkers put into preserving these buildings and giving funds for these institutions to be preserved.

Walked around 5th Avenue, the Rockafeller (?) centre Times Square, the UN (!), Greenwich Village too. The weather's been nice except for when it rained and when the wind blows - just chills you to the bone.

Visited a Jazz club called the iridium - ron carter was playing. A very short set but highly satisfying. His percussionist was excellent - inventive and appropriate.

Been spending too much on books and CDs - need to show some self restraint ... the damaages thus far:
Books - The Broken Tower - Biography of Hart Crane

Forbidden Knowledge - From Prometheus to Pornography

The Illusion of Power - political theatre in the English Renaissance

Alternative Shakespeares - edited by John Drakakis

The subject of Tragedy - Identity and difference in Renaissance Drama

Shakespeare Left and Right

All that is solid melts into air - Berman Marshall

Sweet Tragedy - Terry Eagleton

The Book of Laughter and Forgetting (not for me)

this week's edition of the New Yorker - couldn't resist - it's damn cheap compared to back home at the Holland V mama shop ...

CDs

Pithecanthropus Erectus - Charles Mingus

Free Jazz - Ornette Coleman

Inner Urge - Joe Henderson

Big Train - Wynton Marsalis

Juju - Wayne Shorter

Compilation - McCoy Tyner Big Band

And I have been resisting buying Videos and DVDs ...
Will try to watch a musical soon. Am gunning for "Harlem Song" cause it's showing at the Apollo Theatre - which is supposed to be the heart of Afro-American art in NY, is about the history of Harlem, isn't in crowded Times Square but is up here in Harlem, and is damn cheap compared to Broadway ... see how maybe will go for the Sat Matinee.

Home home - 12/23/2002

Just got back. Tired man. Weather is suffocating. Muggy is the word. Getting off the plane is always difficult to do. At least there's the new year to look forward to. With each leaving, a return insists on writing itself, even if it never materialises. a mushy, corny anecdote. Leaving for NY on Dec 4, the plane was delayed. So the KrisWorld entertainment panel was playing even before the plane left the ground. I was listening to channel 3, which plays songs from musicals. As the plane took off, the channel played the Nicole Kidman number from Moulin Rouge, One Day I'll Fly Away - how fitting I thought. Except that our yesterdays are never left behind. Anyway - I'm allowed to sentimentally think that there's a better life somewhere away from here...

I follow the night

Can't stand the light

When will I begin

To live again?
One day I'll fly away

Leave all this to yesterday

What more could your Love do for me?

When will Love be through with me?
Why live life from dream to dream

And dread the day when dreaming ends

One day I'll fly away

Leave all this to yesterday

Why live life from dream to dream?

And dread the day when dreaming ends
One day I'll fly away

Fly, fly away

Meanwhile, Ms Tan is really happy to be back for a short three weeks. That's nice.

November 2002

Slow Afternoon - 11/2/2002







Sitting around in the staffroom, just marked two months wort of attendance cause te end of the year is near and this is the only thing that counts as work. I drfit to the sounds of the door swinging open beind me with busy people wandering shuttling in and out of their business and contend with the unresponsive "h" key on my lap top as I try to trot out an entry on these stubborn keys. Need to press them extra hard and Im pretty sure there's a touc h response system to this comp that I havent found out about.

In front of me, harried teacher on a Sat Afternoon thinking about a weekend of work ahead of her. I'm just here - fly upon the wall. People come and go oblivious to the curious lines they leave on the clean floor. The tiles are newly mopped so each stain is significant. But after a while who bothers. I find it wasn't the key that was faulty but that my angle of attack was too oblique, the pressure not direct enough for an immediate effect. So it is with the things I've done this week - from the terrible chasing for PW files to the scroungingaway from a potentially political situation in the Dept. In effect - I place ease of mind and travelling light above desire and ambition. I suppose where desire matches with a politically neutral position, then well and good. But this week I walked away from opportunity because I wanted to make sure I didn't get entangled in department politics. I didn't even see it coming. Anyway it wasn't even opportunity for me - it was more a statement of interest and preference and of course, as in all things, my passion for Lit. Unfortunately, teaching Lit in this EL dept is a highly politicised affair. So I extricated myself from it. Ah well - not missing much anyway - A level lit tends to be very parochial.

Enough already - got a sucky A level invigilation time-table ... The Chief Presiding Examiner said - for those lucky ones, you get only one full day (out of the 10). Those unlucky - get 2 full days. I got two full days. And worse - I end right on the last day of the papers -3rd of Dec ... while most of the others end on 27th Nov - ah well - you take what you get ...wasn't planning to go to NY until the 4th anyway ... so I'm not too sore about it.

Sat through an evening of strange observations last night. College staff dinner. Was a reluctant attendee. I marvel at the enthusiasm that some of my peers display for these things. Sat with the cynical EL teachers. Quite strange cause I should really have been sitting with either the J1 GP teachers or the batch of New teachers. Either way it was an odd affair. I suppose it underlines the fact that social obligations are not my strength. And I really don't intend to make any drastic adjustments in this area. Yet despite being an old hand at being out of place, I still feel the awkwardness of it. Wonder if one ever gets so use to it that being out of place is no longer a strange feeling. Being in a strange place alone is fine. But being packed into a room with people that you're supposed to know and see everyday and need to be cordial to ... that's difficult. Anyway - saw lots of sides of people that I'd never seen before. Not sure that was a good thing. Sometimes it's good to know people only as they are in their work roles. To see them let their hair down is a little scary...









End of the Year - 11/7/2002







Had staff Seminar today. Which was a real drag cause it's all this idealistic and unrealistic planning based on the most general of educational goals. It's putting down the obvious on paper - an activity that the bureacrats and admin people like to dao, and pride themselves in calling planning! Stupid activity. Ours has become a profession where the unoriginal, the mundane, the boring, the unchallenging has become exalted and given that lovely tag - "system". It's no longer teachers that work - it's the system that works. And the bureaucrats love it! As long as we have a system it'll be aye ok. Never mind that there are gaping holes - as long as we can describe those holes nicely. You need to know the shape of the hole. You need to know the jaggedness of the outline. You need to know how the outline works. In a nutshell - let's ignore reality and work with our Systems. Cause our systems become reality. And that's when the bureacrats get recognised and promoted. Because they were able to put down on paper what everyone already knows.

Stupidity comes in small parcels. It's ok to be stupid on your own. But when you spread it out to the rest of the world - then you're really somebody.

HOw to be a leader? When everyone already knows what to do, you need to interupt and explain some principle or detail that is utterly irrelevant in a manner that makes it sound important. Then you're an effective leader. YOu need to allow the people to do the work - then you must mess it up. You need to always be evasive about what people really want to know.

For all our attempts at planning the basic question on the Dept's lips - "What will I be teaching next year, J1 or J2?" was successfully evaded throughout the seminar. The principle becomes simple. The lack of transparency and clarity will only result in resistance.

But at least things are much better planning here. In the old place, planning was taken much more seriously. At the least the groups that I worked with today didn't think it was all that important ! Which meant we had lots of time to 1. doodle, 2. talk, 3. munch and 4. eat.

Interestingly enough, when the P walked by the entire table looked so busy ! Certainly a trick we've learnt from the students we teach (as one of the older teachers pointed out once he left ...) ah well - some things don't change ...







In the spirit of experimentation and finding - 11/15/2002







out about new stuff, I've embarked on learning more about Jazz and educating myself about that uniquely american art form. This has entailed listening to a lot of CDs and trying to play stuff on a variety of instruments. I've been in and out of Jazz, never really jumping in but this Hols I'm determined to make some progress. Of course I started all this earlier but it's when you have more time to yourself that you make leaps in the understanding and appreciation of stuff.

So today I went to a Jazz club. There aren't that many in Singapore so ended up in this second floor place at boat/clarke (i can't tell the diff) quay. Of course my company was tired/distracted and left after a short while and so there I was, left in a roomful of Ang Mos and Yuppies with a pitcher of yummy mango margarita to myself.

What really irritated me however was the utter lack of respect the people paid to the musicians. You don't go to a Jazz club to talk. you go to a Jazz club to listen to the music. This obviously was no the case at this club. There were loud conversations going on all over the room. Being alone, I managed to concentrate on the music pretty much but the snatches of conversation were just intrusive. This reinforces my opinion that many of us are into a thing (jazz in this instance) not so much because we want to know more or want to learn about it but because, well, beacuse it happens to be there. Which is why I've never frequented noisy discos. It's just too noisy and smoky to think through the haze. Obviously you may object and suggest that through the noise, the music and beat must cut through and that to demand quiet during a performance is elitist and rubbish. I wonder - perhaps I lack that ability to pick out stuff and so need to concentrate a lot more. I know make listening to music sound like a chore but it's a whole new world and so one treads on the ground carefully.

Anyway- the stuff was quite commercial except for some snatches of impressive piano soloing. I think that as a performative art, Jazz is unrivalled precisely because the moment is created on the spot through improvisation. Sat through 2 sets (the second featured a guest alto player, which was neat) and made sure I caught the last bus home.









A Teaching Manifesto - 11/20/2002







After an evening of conversation with students and fellow teachers, conversations separate but united by that force of being ME, I have decided in intellectual audacity and snobbery, to declare a manifesto along the lines of F.T. Marinetti's Manifesto of Futurism. In case anyone suspects my cause or questions my sources, here is the link that you may check it out (which is in a sense, easy speak for intellectual curiousity)

http://www.unknown.nu/futurism/manifesto.html



An evening of conversation? The modern convinences of the machine - International Calls, Two-in-One tele calls, face to face pontifications - mean many ideas colasced into one mind. Followed by the downing of alcohol - Good beer, stale sherry - have put me in the mood for this. I refer sparingly to the past, hoping that what gets put down marks it and guides my days to come.

Manifesto of the Teacher

1. The Teacher is Supreme. Not what is taught, not what is learnt, not the exams or the results. But WHO I am as a teacher and who YOU are in relation to every act of learning. The Teacher is never an individual but an act, a mind that inquires extends the Teacher beyond these fragile bodily strictures to ...

2. Brashness, intelligence, the Question, will be essential elements of each "teaching".

3. The end of intellectual security must be affirmed. And in this age of uncertainty we look toward the irrational, toward faith, at doubt and wonder about how these may be refashioned with a vocabulary that WE may understand.

4. I will sing the songs of those who were truly great.

5. Systems infect themselves - never trust them. Even the belief that I may change a system from within is a Lie. Like the One Ring, I must never wear the belief. I leave it for those those of stouter hearts, or with minds lesss filled with guile.

6. I dance with those whose hearts are too weak to absorb this wonder called life. Lay down your weary soul, lay down. The song is only half sung when the feet don't dance to the rhythm of their tired hearts. Lay down!

7. I co-exist with those who have sold their Souls to the system. Why? Is this not a contradiction! Are you mad? But if indeed, they have sold their souls to the System, then I have bartered my Head for much less. For a roomful of books and a 10 year old CD player! to each his own - they fill in my forms, I fill in their Voids.

8. The Teacher must exhaust himself in every exertion. Physical, emotional, psychic burn out, brings renewal or death. Choose as you wish. Without that exhaustion, nothing will be sung.

9. Every Rumour, Gossip, Bad-mouthing, deceitful practice - in short - every act of Office Politics must be condoned if those that hold the key to Political power have surrendered their Souls to the System. There is no such thing as honset reform. The anarchic is legitimate, as it steps outside the System to bring it down. These are the terms of Revolution. But these are terms, a coward like me would be afraid to use!

10. I remain true to a belief. An ideal. An observation. An insight. No amount of seduction neatly packaged as promotion or financial renumeration will sway my adherence to this. I remain inflexible that I might retain my intellectual nimbleness.

11. Embrace! Embrace knowledges, not knowledge. Plurality, connectivity, sheets of sound and the Advant Garde. Nothing is too miniscule. I learn from all. The repetitiveness of labour challenges my imagination and I laugh at the complainers and those who are above menial work! Give me mindlessness and I will strive to form a Mind!

It is from Simplicity, the Naive belief that things cannot change, that Systems perish and that Ministers talks with their mouths full but their minds empty, from the utter lack of respect for non-contradictory, sound advice that I shoot from the Hip. Don't expect me to admit to saying these things. I merely intend to live by them!











'Tis the Season for Chalet-ing - 11/27/2002







I've been musing about the whole sub-culture of class chalet-ing that has sprung up in the years since I was a student. Just some background. When I was in sec school and JC we hardly chalet-ed. 'Twas too expensive. The most we did was to go to someone's house for a BBQ or stay over at someone's house. The more adventurous would stay over at East Coast on the beach. And this was always done only with friends you were very close to. The notion of assembling as a class and squeezing into a space meant for 6-8 people, away from the scrutiny of parents and the like, was never an experience experienced. I suppose it's kind of a middle ground, a compromise between staying over at home AND staying out on the Beach (was dangerous and things used to happen). Plus the fact that you have to pay for these chalets, means that you have got to get a large number of people. Anyway - some prototypes:

The ones that don't happen
Much effort goes into planning one of these things but sadly it never happens. I think I've been told stories of this happening to classes at least twice.

We got a chalet going but ...
These happen I think when the class is quite a young one. Everyone is enthu about things but ends up doing his/her own thing. The result is much chaos and unhygenic living conditions. I seriously think that boys under a certain age should be banned from these living arrangements as they don't seem to know the first thing about communal living ... Plus, some of the boys never ever help out. all they do is sit in front of the TV and toggle the play station controls ....

My Commitment, You Chalet
This happens when only a small number of the people at the Chalet are responsible enough to work out all the logistics. This involves clearing up, sweeping the floor, taking out the trash etc. It's really irritating to know that while some people while away the time, these people are working behind the scenes to make the stay more comfortable for all. I suppose a good thing out of this is you get to know who really cares ...

We're Super-Organised
This happened at one of the gatherings I happend to visit. Everyone (well almost) was on task and helped out in preparing stuff. When it was time to start stuff no one lingered or whined. They just looked for things to do.

Let's Talk
I've wondered what indies do through the long watches of the night. Even when I stayed over at friends' houses, we never just played cards, or (in those days) modified versions of popular board games (Luck chess, ransom chess and a whole host of complex strategy games spring to mind). We always ended up mulling over stuff. Talking about what we thought about I guess. Maybe we were a generation that grew up full of hopes, expectations and fears that remained unarticulated for us and so we took to the darkness of night to unravel and explore how we felt.

And the final kind of Chalet ...Eh - you also here ah
This happens. One then wonders about the probability of these occurences. Perhaps it is true that the circles in which we move intersect at the moments that we least expect them to.

A Teaching Manifesto

A Teaching Manifesto - 11/20/2002



After an evening of conversation with students and fellow teachers, conversations separate but united by that force of being ME, I have decided in intellectual audacity and snobbery, to declare a manifesto along the lines of F.T. Marinetti's Manifesto of Futurism. In case anyone suspects my cause or questions my sources, here is the link that you may check it out (which is in a sense, easy speak for intellectual curiousity)
http://www.unknown.nu/futurism/manifesto.html

An evening of conversation? The modern convinences of the machine - International Calls, Two-in-One tele calls, face to face pontifications - mean many ideas colasced into one mind. Followed by the downing of alcohol - Good beer, stale sherry - have put me in the mood for this. I refer sparingly to the past, hoping that what gets put down marks it and guides my days to come.
Manifesto of the Teacher

1. The Teacher is Supreme. Not what is taught, not what is learnt, not the exams or the results. But WHO I am as a teacher and who YOU are in relation to every act of learning. The Teacher is never an individual but an act, a mind that inquires extends the Teacher beyond these fragile bodily strictures to ...

2. Brashness, intelligence, the Question, will be essential elements of each "teaching".

3. The end of intellectual security must be affirmed. And in this age of uncertainty we look toward the irrational, toward faith, at doubt and wonder about how these may be refashioned with a vocabulary that WE may understand.

4. I will sing the songs of those who were truly great.

5. Systems infect themselves - never trust them. Even the belief that I may change a system from within is a Lie. Like the One Ring, I must never wear the belief. I leave it for those those of stouter hearts, or with minds lesss filled with guile.

6. I dance with those whose hearts are too weak to absorb this wonder called life. Lay down your weary soul, lay down. The song is only half sung when the feet don't dance to the rhythm of their tired hearts. Lay down!

7. I co-exist with those who have sold their Souls to the system. Why? Is this not a contradiction! Are you mad? But if indeed, they have sold their souls to the System, then I have bartered my Head for much less. For a roomful of books and a 10 year old CD player! to each his own - they fill in my forms, I fill in their Voids.

8. The Teacher must exhaust himself in every exertion. Physical, emotional, psychic burn out, brings renewal or death. Choose as you wish. Without that exhaustion, nothing will be sung.

9. Every Rumour, Gossip, Bad-mouthing, deceitful practice - in short - every act of Office Politics must be condoned if those that hold the key to Political power have surrendered their Souls to the System. There is no such thing as honset reform. The anarchic is legitimate, as it steps outside the System to bring it down. These are the terms of Revolution. But these are terms, a coward like me would be afraid to use!

10. I remain true to a belief. An ideal. An observation. An insight. No amount of seduction neatly packaged as promotion or financial renumeration will sway my adherence to this. I remain inflexible that I might retain my intellectual nimbleness.

11. Embrace! Embrace knowledges, not knowledge. Plurality, connectivity, sheets of sound and the Advant Garde. Nothing is too miniscule. I learn from all. The repetitiveness of labour challenges my imagination and I laugh at the complainers and those who are above menial work! Give me mindlessness and I will strive to form a Mind!

It is from Simplicity, the Naive belief that things cannot change, that Systems perish and that Ministers talks with their mouths full but their minds empty, from the utter lack of respect for non-contradictory, sound advice that I shoot from the Hip. Don't expect me to admit to saying these things. I merely intend to live by them!

Oct 2002

Sleep deficit - 10/10/2002







The way things work, this morning's questions will keep wringing their way into my head. You'd think that thought can be kept separate from mind much in the same way that forces are kept separate from masses. But if the relationship between force and mass is acceleration, then what is the relationship between mind and thought? Is the link between the two the abstract ideas that interpolate - ie, the link between the mind and thought is a "sub-thought", an act of consciously making the thought. Which is pretty much what meta-cognition is all about. Having the patterns of thought should enable you to think. Sadly this isn't often the case. Scaffolding merely limits thought as it forces the mind to be constrained by a very sketchy and general sense of the world. The minutiae and the indiosyncracies, the distractions and diversions get lost along the way. Like the wind that runs through my sleepy head when I ride the non-airconditioned bus home on a hot drowsy sleepy time afternoon when I've given up trying to decipher the mazy sprawls that delany calls sentences, thought brushes past and leaves in its wake the rude sense of offended time. For if thought occured in time then every acknowledgement of thought would be merely revisiting the thing past. All thought is memory. Whether my own or borrowed or stolen. All thought maps out memory. And a reflection on thought is the history of memory. But then I'm just mixing up the metaphors and toying with weak analogies that don't seem to hold my head in place.

When I've got a headache. Is that the physicality of thought manifesting itself unnervingly? To be unnerved is no mere figure of speech - the disfunctioning neurons spider out, spindley legged fibres - Ganglion - Gaugain - Bright lion. Iced Lion. Paddle Pop Lion. I was born in August - that makes me a Leo Lion. Are you reading my mind better now? Perhaps I should try to increase the speech of thought my the momemts that my fingers write these irrelevant monumnents to memory. IF THOUGHT were the echo of things past, then my fingers dance the with the dead. My fingers caressing the plastic sheaths that encapsulate meaning, these words, burnt offerings to which dead god? Hanging playing flute like tendrils wringing down the naked side and skidding off the crown of thorns. You come to me the yellowed image of Gaugain's Christ, unable to dream again because the setting is remote from the heat dryness and dust. Down in the tomb he lay. Back in the lot they play and we structure the language flows with the automatic reflexes of grammar. Correcting myself with the present, the dance with death and words that dying fall flat on the trying ground open up new sinews - Force and accelearation, Muscle and Mass, thought and mind words combine.







Decision - 10/14/2002







Having written here for about a year, I've been thinking about adjusting some things. Obviously ODing has been a rather important part of who I am, thinking through stuff with my fingers and all that, getting to reflect and communicating with a world that I otherwise wouldn't have been able to communicate with. That's been great.

However, I think diversification is in order. We write for an audience (I remember stuff). Imaginary or not. And different audience's look for different things. Not that I intend to pander in anyway. But this is what I've decided to do. I'll continue writing here about the real world and what I think about stuff. But the creative and experimental stuff will move elsewhere. That's actually largely due to the fact that it's easier to post pictures elsewhere too.

I actually planned to move the whole thing in June. But I've always found FOD really convenient. But my spot has been saved from then and for those interested - I'm sure you'll know how to look. Catch me if you can.









Some Disappointment - 10/19/2002







Got back the scripts for the classes I teach. One did better than expected - the other two didn't. Am musing about the grades that were given. Obviously there's some subjectivity involved in the marking process but by and large the principles for grading are pretty standard. I guess the disappointment has to do with some major upsets rather than an overall sense that things have gone wrong.

However, it has led me to think about what is important in writing essays. And whether I've been focussing on the right thing. I guess I'm pretty confident when it comes to my own stuff but seeing the unexpected results of some of the essays has forced me to re-consider the priorities.

The injunction to keep it simple is well and good. However, I tend to give lee-way to intelligence. That means if a piece doesn't answer the question in the most direct of ways (and here I really mean direct as in literally quoting the question then answering it in every topic sentence) but is more subtle in its devices, and does tend to be eloquent, I don't expect a literal spelling out that "I'M ANSWERING THE QUESTION". In this, sense, my base assumption is that every script has topic sentences and every para is an attempt to answer the question - which leads then to my consideration of whether a para answers the question WELL. However, if my assumptions were different and I believed that scripts would actually NOT have topic sentences and NOT answer the question, the penalty would be for the moments that these devices were not securely in place. Of course "securely" is relative. How explicit do you have to be before you've "answered the question"? Here, one expects reasonable intelligence to be the shared ground between reader and writer. The injunction to write assuming that the reader knows nothing is rubbish because it would just make the whole communicative process impossible. But what happens when reader and writer don't match? The reader can interrogate - WHY is this so? WHY does this necessarily lead to this? But just asking WHY is not enough. The reader has to pin-point the potential misunderstanding in the absence of a solid reply of WHY. Otherwise, it is merely petulant questioning. To have to explain WHY is fine and good when a reference or context isn't clear but there's a base level of accepted assumption.

Perhaps I have assumed too much and not forced the writing to be explicit enough. Because this turned out to be the major problem with some of the pieces.

Not that I'm complaining about the accuracy of the marking. The principle to trust the marker's judgement must be in place and while there is disagreement I will not ask any marker to re-consider a script that they've marked. It's a kind of professional respect I suppose.

Also, asking another marker to re-consider a script takes on all sorts of unpleasant connotations. I really think trusting the judgement of another marker is important.

I suppose what remains to be said is that learning to cope with disappointment is important. We don't always get fairly judged and dealing with that rather than being legalistic and proving a case, bulids one up.







hey ho - 10/21/2002







Because I just managed to get a comments function working (thanks to Peng Hong!) - check it out - but only if you're into esoteric and obscure musings -

http://limitlim.blogspot.com/

If you want the real world - keep it here ...