Defences of Poetry - 2/23/2002

What sparks this entry was a rather long talk I had with a former student about Literature and the way its often perceived. An added impetus for this monologue is the fact that many of us are very literal, rather than literary.

Anyway, we were talking about how difficult it is to justify the worth and value of literature. The suggestion was that many people who have never studied Literature are convinced that Literature is an irrelevant subject that does not lead an individual very far. Based on that, we thought about why people think so and what does attract us to Literature.

ONE:
I have often found it interesting that many professions do not need to justify themselves. Doctors are needed because people get sick, Lawyers are needed because people get divorced, Engineers are needed because buildings and roads, computers and cars need to be built, Bankers are needed because money exists. And the list runs on. The justification is often economic: these professions are needed otherwise the economy just would not no longer operate smoothly. Yet Literature practitioners (be they teachers, writers, academics or critics) constantly justify their existence. Perhaps it is the particular mode of existence that is justified but even at a very elementary level, ie at Secondary school, the relevance of the subject comes under scrutiny. In comparison to many other functions however, literature deals with more immediate and pressing concerns, language, relationships, emotions, and ideas. Many professions on the other hand deal with artificially constructed systems: the legal system, the financial system, accounting systems. Why is it then that the pressing and the immediate, that which we participate intensely in comes under close scrutiny, while the plainly constructed is accepted as a way of life? Perhaps it is that very fact that ideas, relationships, emotions and language are so commonly discussed without the reference of specialised knowledge that caused Literature to be considered irrelevant. It is not that we are alienated from the concerns of Literature that causes Literature to appear irrelevant. It is the very opposite: we are so engaged with the currency of Literature that when we see it ossified on a page, or explained as analysis, we find that representation distant. And so the irrelevance of Literature is not so much a product of what Literature is about but really is due to the way we Literature is practised.

TWO:
Language is the heart of literary thought. And we fear the unmasking of Language. Fear in the sense that Literature often de-stablises assumptions about language. Literature has to continually justify itself is because its claims that language can be thought about, that language is so fluid and communication is so unstable, that language can so powerfully manipulate, are often so distressing in their conclusions that we rather not have to deal with them. To some, this ability to see through the operations of language may be an enriching or even thrilling process. Yet to a vast majority the abyss that this act provokes causes them to shirk away. The limits set by rule bound systems assure us of some end. But language systems are so dislocated from hard and fast rules that Literature's attempt to think about language is perhaps an extremely mind-boggling enterprise. The claim of the literary practitioner that the manipulative nature of language can be charted is often a claim that is scorned upon. Why is this so? I think we believe very much in our ability to be free from the influences of language.

THREE:
The range and complexity of what actually constitutes Literature is a difficult definition. Complexity has never been used as an excuse to say why a body of knowledge is unapproachable. The finer details of chemical engineering and the mind-boggling array of molecular principles never dissuades individuals from the subject. What is however the case with Literature is it's seeming complication of the simple. For example, after an elaborate explanation by the teacher on the strained relationship between Cassius and Brutus, a sleepy looking face peers up and drawls, " So you're just saying that they don't like each other?" Why does Literature seem to make difficult that which could otherwise be so simply expressed? Does Literature indeed build airy theoretical castles that are merely fabrications of the "heat oppressed" mind? Even novels expound reality in a manner that takes so much time to say so little. The issue then is our perspective on nuance and detail. The big picture is fine for certain modes of living but surely humanity consists of the slow motion replays and the re-runs as well? What distinguishes detail from superfluidity is its discovery. The superfluous exists on the surface, proclaiming its irrelevance and disconnectedness but nuance and details lie embedded, forming part of essence yet not proclaiming it so. And so the mining for nuance enriches not only the analysis of a book, but the analyser's ability to become sensitive to these unspoken currents that often drive desire and action.

This one was a long time coming - 2/18/2002

A Poem for the Chinese New Year

"May I have your name and number please?"
For I am charm and attraction rolled into one –
How can you resist one born
In the Year of the Rat?

"No fear my dear – for my eloquence
Will surely make up for the fact
That I do not act very well, being born
In the Year of the Ox."

I've never heard him speak his mind
All at one time. He merely lets slip
Observations of wit: most of him is hid –
In the Year of the Tiger

"O what care I take when I see her
To say how lovely she is –
For I'm full of tact, articulate, born
In the Year of the Rabbit."

"I do not love by speech alone
But let energy and honesty do the talking.
I'm a little to soft when it comes to love, born
In the Year of the Dragon."

" I know who I'll love and they'll love me too.
My depth of knowing and surface beauty
Confirms this." So said one born
In the Year of the Snake.

"Some peace, some peace please! Ladies
Stand back in queue!" I wish I had paid
More attention to the fact that I was
Born in the Year of the Horse.

Accomplished and elegant,
Too concerned with Art and
Irrelevance to be in love –
Was one born in the year of the Sheep.

"I'm a genius! I'm brilliant. I prance
In eccentric glee, because these questions don't
Concern me. Love has nothing to do
With one born in the year of the Monkey".

"Once she loved me. Now she says I'm
Arrogant and uncaring. Love
Failed hurts, for I was born
In the Year of the Rooster.

"I'm not too romantic,
But at least I'll never stray
From love's first kiss –
I was born in the Year of the Dog."

"She has yet to love me but
I'm sure she will. And I'll stubbornly
Persist until she does. I was born
In the Year of the Pig."

"I have loved many. And many have
Loved me. For they could not tell
Black from white. For I was born
In the Year of the Skunk."

That single last line has been fermenting for a real long time. I think I heard of it about 6 months ago. But never had a serious chance to think about it. It was uttered from the lips of a four year old child who was bullied terribly by her siblings at home. She claimed her elder brother was born in the year of the skunk. I thought of writing a piece that dramatised the situation more clearly, one that was more serious in tone. But CNY gave the line another way of seeing the light of day.

For What It's Worth - 2/16/2002

To: diarymonitor@opendiary.com

An Unsavoury Diary



Dear sir/ madam:



I read with some alarm the entries and subsequent replies found on the following OD



http://www.opendiary.com/entrylist.asp?authorcode=A661615
Bitch, sluts, bastards
by popular?fuckers



This particular diary and the subsequent responses promote hate, personal attacks and defamation. All these writers come from the school where I teach and what troubles me is the sense of anger, obscenity and violence apparent in the entries and notes.



I quote from your "terms of use agreement":

"Users shall not post or transmit through Open Diary any material which violates or infringes in any way upon the rights of others, which is unlawful, threatening, abusive, defamatory ..."



Given that this policy statement aims to protect the integrity of the OD community, I am of the opinion that the above OD, whether it is a prank, a hoax or a genuine rant, should either be censored or removed.



On another note, I would like to give my kudos to The Open Diary as it has been and continues to be an excellent medium for a large number of students to express their views and encourage each other. Coming from a culture that is often inhibited about speaking openly and confiding one's problems, The Open Diary is a very theraputic place for many. Further, it encourages the kids to write, something I regard as a plus for me, an English teacher. This single OD mentioned above promotes the wrong kind of expression and is an example of Open Diary Abuse, and to the credit of The Open Diary, is an exception.

Your attention and action is much appreciated.

Thank you.

Mr Gary Lim

I guess the OD has become a place that I enjoy and treasure very much. Was rather amused and indifferent the first time I visited the above mentioned site. But looked at it today and realised that it's breeding all sorts of unhealthiness. So I decided to at least try to do something about it. I'm sure some OD regulars have as well and I think we shouldn't tolerate overtly insensitive remarks as these, though I am painfully aware that I do not always say the nicest of things of other people too. But at least I try to be polite.

Rats - 2/16/2002

Debates yesterday. One win one loss. Sadly, the team that loss debated excellently, had superb arguments and was the better team - even according to the adjudicators. And we lost on a technicality. Which is very sad. Anyway I think they did marvellously and have every right to be proud of themselves, the way they acquitted themselves. Obviously we'll have to work extra hard now for them to get into the quarters ... with that one loss ... but I'm sure they can do it.

What got me was the coach from the other side. Ok- so we know that debating is scummy and full of psycho games etc - but the adults involved don't have to encourage it. He kept vigourously shaking his head whenever OUR speakers made a point or rebutted something. I mean, if you want to encourage your own speakers with a thumbs-up or nods of the head - that's fine - but to actually try to distract your opposition by shaking your head vigourously (and he wasn't the only one - he got the teachers along his row to do the same - so that's evidence of a concerted effort to distract) is pathetic. It's merely a clear demonstration of the utter lack of confidence such that you have to resort to such tactics. Fine - I may sound naive and idealistic about fair competition - but look - if we can't win on our own merit or ability, or performance on the day, and need to resort to extraneous help, it's not worth even trying to win. People that want to win no matter what miss the point of a competition.

Which is why I'll say what I do and hope I will continue to do for these debates. I'll sit at the back with notebook and all. I'll watch, nod my head when our speakers speak, jot down things that we need to work on and make soft comments to whoever's near by. But I won't feed ideas to the reserves or point out the flaws to the reserves. I think we shouldn't - no matter what anyone else does. I probably sound more moralistic than usual but it isn't so much about morals as it is about believing in the people up there doing the job and showing your confidence in them by not helping.

Ah well that's that. Going to replay the tape now and make notes.

Killed by my own Conscience - 2/14/2002

Sorry Kimbo - didn't think that I should start an entry with your name. Didn't want anything that rhymed with limbo - which is exactly how I feel right now in limbo.

Low-light of the day: Was an Idiotic Psycho teacher to form class.

How it came about: Most of the class forgot to bring their files - more like didn't bother to bring their files - or even prepare them.

What I would normally do: Ne'er Mind Ne'er Mind bring them tomorrow - I've got no energ to scold you or nag at you.

What I did today: All stay back during lunch ...

What happened during lunch: The class stood in class while the duty personnel cleaned the classroom - talk about totally irrelevant ...

So what's the point: I don't know. I guess I wanted them to get the message that if they can't be bothered to work together as a class, then they have to suffer the consequences together as a class. I'm sure that there are people who disagree - only those who were disobedient should be punished. I don't know - I guess I was in the mood where disappointment with the class mingled with disappointment with myself, cause I haven't been able to inspire them to more conscientious behaviour. And much disappointment often leads to irrelevant punishements. And so the long and short of it was that I don't think anyone really learnt anything and I was just mean. Sigh.

And so I've been thinking about it you know. Not being the sort that can just whack and scold people without thinking about it - I don't know - every time I need to do something like this (and it hasn't been often) I just feel twisted and untrue to myself. I hated it when people would "tekan" us for something someone else did - and yet I'm doing the exact same thing - what's my problem? Even the justifications of it's for the greater good we live in socius don't really satisfy.

Ms Tan said I get too emotional about these things and that I'm a lousy teacher cause I get too strung up when I need to be mean. Sigh - shouldn't teaching involve the whole being - emotions and all? I suppose when I take things personally that makes the emotions unhealthy. But the only recourse is to systematise and to de-personalise - to alienate then how can I be considered an integrated self?

All I know right now - is that I'm damn tired - need to lecture IPW tomorrow - haven't settled the projector, haven't told them it's in the audi - then got debates in the evening ...

Burn out man.

Quite the contrary: - 2/12/2002

Is the chosen title of this entry, only because "Q", "K" and the letter "Z" have yet to be featured as opening words to the titles for these entries. Before it is too late I must run through the alphabet - though why I do not know.

Spent some of today marking at coffee club express in paragon. This was after a CNY lunch thing at my Uncle's place. Was teribbly disillusioned by the poor quality of the writing and the nonsensical answers to lit. It is true - we (ie Lit teachers?) try so hard to teach literature and the appreciation of the literary when everything else in the system promotes "literalness". Ended up failing many scripts that just could not read between the lines, that missed the sarcasm of the poem. I think there aren't any clear guidelines on this aspect of literary cognition. At what age is a chid able to "get" sarcasm? How much of life must you have seen before you appreciate irony? How old do you have to be to detect cynicism? Can a 14 year old see the point of romantic tropes? Apparently literature syllabi in other countries have pegged a kind of cognitive mastery scale which suggests that at different ages a child should be able to understand a particular genre of writing and appreciate the hidden meanings. But we're hardly so advanced here. Besides we study English as if it were a second language here so it's hardly surprising that we miss nuances of meaning.

Anyway - apart from that haven't done much except grouse to Ms Tan that I'm spending my life telling kids to write in one tense. She was circling lousy Bio drawings ("They'll be so insulted when I make them practice drawing circles ...")and so both of us came to the conclusion that we are wasting our lives.

Things to be happy about - this seems almost to be a compulsory section or I'll just be pathetic.
1. It's nearing the end of term 1 and I'm still well and good - don't have to put up with RV for very much longer (hopefully).
2. There's a shipment of Sci-Fi / Fantasy books by Delany on the way and it should reach me anytime soon ...
3. Got the confirmation invoice from Leicester about the MA Applied Linguistics and will be starting on the 4th of March.
4. Finished several piles of marking and so don't need to feel stressed
5. Have lost some weight and can concentrate on losing more now since most of the major eating has been done.

On Isabel: Who is the name of my Sister's new born girl. She's now staying with us (plus my sister and my Bro in Law) so it's quite a party here ... She's very small and pruny. (Nine months in amiotic fluid does shrivel you up) and very warm whenever I carry her. Haven't had much contact with her though as the doting parents are always around - but I think she's quite well behaved ... doesn't wail much. Anyway, after hearing all the horror stories about babies and seeing my sis and Bro in Law look after the kid - I'm pretty much into not having any children of my own. All the pain and suffering to bring a child into a world of pain and suffering. Anyway, Ms Tan is more into animals than humans so at least we agree on something. Thinking along those lines, I think it's more humane to actually adopt children who are abandoned and need someone to look after them. Too bad the adoption policies in S'pore are so strict. But the option is always there if we move away for a while. I think part of the reason to not want to have a child also stems from the fact that we both come into contact with kids every day, and you come to realise that all the effort put in as a parent comes undone when the child grows up etc. Having seen more naughty disinterested kids than good motivated ones, I think there's more to discourage having a child than to spur me on to have one. Also, you save a lot of money when you don't have a child - think of all those diapers thrown away, the school text-books, the toys and the fact that you'll have to spend on the kid for at least 18 years with no guarantee of return.

Anyway - at least I'm aware of the fact that I'll probably be a bad parent. A lot of people think that everyone else is a bad parent but that they'll be the exception. Reality check - I know I can't cut it as a parent and so I won't pretend.

Many Reunions - 2/11/2002

Being quite newly married and not yet properly established as a nuclear family (cats don't count apparentlt), Ms Tan and I have the priviledge of attending many reunion dinners. The heirachies are quite complex and my goal in all this is not to put on the pounds already shed while appearing to eat so that no one is offended. Two down - one more tonight, then tomorrow CNY lunch and hopefully I can go back to the Veggie soup diet.

Three days before CNY
My stomach said to me
"Go easy on the Calories you can't see"

Two days before CNY
My stomach said to me
"Prawn rolls are a no-no, and go easy on the Calories you can't see"

One day before CNY
My stomach said to me
"Kwa Chee is addictive, Prawn rolls are a no-no, and go easy on the Calories you can't see"

On the first day of CNY
My stomach said to me
"Pineapple tarts will defeat you, Kwa Chee is addictive, Prawn rolls are a no-no, and go easy on the Calories you can't see"

On the second day of CNY
My stomach said to me
" Can you can live without Bak Kwa, Pineapple tarts will defeat you, Kwa Chee is addictive, Prawn rolls are a no-no, and go easy on the Calories you can't see"

What else of interest have I done so far? Well, first there was the attempt to play pool yesterday which quite ended disasterously for me having no inclination to poke balls around with long sticks. Did try however to not look to bad around the table but was soundly thrashed by all the people present. Am somewhat charmed by the game however and suspect that I might actually be drawn in by the mesmerising powers of the eight ball ...

In the spirit of the festive season, I've brought home nine piles of marking. Am no longer on schedule but at least I've started on several piles. Another first today - managed to mark Lit essays on a crowded 106 bus journey. This marks an improvement on marking while standing up on the MRT. I must say my handwriting on a moving bus was not bad - considering the fact I was seated in a reverse position as well.

Looking forward to - yes - the 17th of Feb where I get to meet with good ol' 4K 2001! Some of them were around today and it was nice to see long hair and cheery smiles. Gave them a taste of my new boldness in speaking bad chinese. At least I will actually speak bad Mandarin on demand - an improvement ok!

Dreading? The debates on Friday! I don't think we're adequately prepared in terms of actual debate practice and so have been having restless nights (sort of) that always end up with a dream of a debate competition of some sort. Anyway - was able to not think about it too much over the weekend and that was good.

Oh ho - just bought two CDs. Haven't gotten any classical stuff for a long time (several years in fact) and wandering about HMV just now, I picked up a copy of Mahler's 1st Symphony (conducted by Solti) and a copy of Beethoven's Triple Concerto (which I quite love ... but the copy I had (featuring Sophie Ann Mutter and Yo Yo Ma no less) was borrowed by heaven knows whom and was never returned) so that should provide some interesting listening while marking.

Am also working on a CNY poem - it's very silly because it's a whole poem just for a punchline that I heard from a 3 year old ... but it's a work in progress.

Coffee Sips 3 - 2/9/2002

the glass we look out of
makes the traffic drive into your reflection.

Both through and against,
inconsistent play
of imperfect vision.
Can't properly merge face

with street.
Your nose is tipped by
changing red green traffic
signs.

Over cups we talk passionately
of dial tones and now fashions.
Instead of porcelain cups,
glass ones with brass handles
grace other conversations:
but ours are
wide-rimmed, squat, white -

distraction: you repeat love while i wince at the car
narrowly missing your ear lobe.

Wouldn't it be easier
if i just looked into your
face, instead of insisting
on this half turned nonchalance?

ceiling lights and street lights remain
trapped in the web of reflecting glass.


When glass curves , what holds our shillouttes in place?

Only noisy conversation.

I will concentrate on writing in spite of the busy schedules and nine classes worth of essays to mark. And yet I haven't been highly productive recently. This 3rd installment in the Coffee Sip Series (unless you count that Ode to the Kopi Siew Tai) was written really long ago - some time in Jul last year i think. The physcial location was Olio at Weelock Place. Was staring at a couple having coffee next to the window and how the oddness of the perpective meant that the cars and reflections of cars from the road running perpendicular to the building seemed to run right into them. It wasn't even a good illusion - you knew that the cars were on the outside. but I looked hard and the lines seemed to merge. And so it is with writing - what we gauge naturally in the "real" world, distance, depth, perspective, angle, 3Dness - often becomes ruthlessly contorted when we place/ capture them on paper. And the ill-defined physicality translates into an emphasis on interpretation. And thus the physical gets tangled up with thought and emotion. So the possibilities of paper -continuous(ly) (e)merging.

"You dog! Upon my honour you lye ..." John Webster

Thought - 2/9/2002

"I dunno whether I'm writing to you or if I'm talking to myself" is a line worth pursuing. A letter casually written can turn out to have the most profound of thoughts. I find this repeatedly. Everyone that is involved in this act of writing and using language wonders I guess, at some stage of the direction and intent of the word, the sentence, the line, the paragraph, the page, the thought. Direction and intent must be the most elusive of things. For if we don't think of language in direct propulsive lines, but as point of intersection as in a web of meaning(s) then indeed, do we write to "you" or to "ourselves"? And who is that "you" we write to? Is it a fictionalised counterpart of the self that we want to create in order that we have at least an audience of one? Or is it a stable mental conception of an other outside the self?

"I dunno whether I'm writing to you or if I'm talking to myself" was probably written, dashed off in a moment - but I'm ringing from its echo after effects. Not only the depth of the suggestion that directionality in writing is suspect, there is that "writing" vs "talking". Is the self so immediate that we talk to ourselves but not dare externalise introspection enough to write to ourselves? We write FOR ourselves, not TO ourselves. Is writing so deliberate and too permanent that perhaps writing to the self is a contradiction, for the thought would have already been communicated more immediately, and that would instead resemble a speech act?

"I dunno whether I'm writing to you or if I'm talking to myself" Perhaps we do both at the same time - in that every act of writing towards is a recitation inwards of what lies in our heads. The articulation of thought happens simultaneously and we "talk" to ourselves in an assurance that the authorial "I" exists while we "write" towards a you, to construct a milleu (fabricated or reflected?) in which to place the "I". Does this then generate a tremendous circularity that can only be clarified by concretising the whole process in a product ie the written word?

"I dunno whether I'm writing to you or if I'm talking to myself" but do we conform to an image of the external first - an intended audience - before allowing our thought (the I) to mingle with it? Perhaps. The syntactical order of the line - you before I - suggests this.

Maybe I'm talking to myself and re-writing you.

Sex - 2/8/2002

No - that was not just a cheap shot at a title in order to get a massive number of hits ... I really am going to talk about it. No diary is complete without its inclusion I suppose (I take my cue from Bridget Jones and Adrian Mole - hang on, they're both Brit - maybe there's something about Brit repression: diaries and sex ...)

Actually what's prompting me to write this is really a note I tagged on to an earlier entry. It was a matter of fact suggestion that a poem presumed innocent of inuendo was actually homoerotic. I've never been big into sex in literature (though a lot of people are and though there are lots of references)partly because it seems to be merely an identification game. However what got me thinking shortly after the posting of the note was 1. the ease with which I found the reference and 2. the blasè manner in which I wrote it.

I suppose a lot of it has to do with the fact that Lit is so permeated with sexual references, after a while that's all sex becomes, a mere footnote. Shouldn't sex be that sacred and cherished intimacy that deserves more attention than a notice? It's want teenage boys yearn for all of their adolescent years and have to exercise every once of self control to put off. I've never been casual about the issue - but why am I blasè when it comes to finding thinking about it intellectually? I wonder. Of course my research interest was Desire - but that was a more amorphous notion, not physical or sexual Desire per se.

Another aspect of sex that I suppose I think about sometimes has to do with the homoerotic. Now I don't use the word "homosexual" because I don't want to run immediately to the conclusion that it's merely a physical act. Looking back on what's interested me in lit, it's never been homoeroticism either. BUT, obliquely, it's always been a hovering presence. Like there was this course I did in American Poetry where I discovered that all the authors studied were homosexual. Then there's Jonathan Dollimore and Radical Tragedy which I was quite an admirer of quite recently - and he's very much into queer studies. I suppose it's an interest from a distance. There are all the social taboos, the religious beliefs and the sense of identity that weigh in against an immersion in that subject I guess. And yet there is the constant thought about whether or not it may be approached precisely from a distance.

Complementing this fact is that I've never been the macho crap kind of guy. I've got women's hands and most of my friends are girls. Plus I am a Guy teaching Lit Lang - a rarity these days. So I suppose even if there has never been an inclination towards the homoerotic, the confusing of gender roles has always been fascinating.

What does this have to do with sex? Not much by way of titillation I guess. But surely there's more to the word so casually flung around.