Sunday, July 30, 2006
shaolin pest control
there was once a man who was easily irritated, who sought guidance at shaolin. the abbot consigned him to the yard by the kitchens with a pair of chopsticks.
woven in a net of zigzagging flies, he trained at the snap of the forearm and the twist of the wrist, failing dismally, improving gradually. soon he could go clack clack clack from his lotus seat, and there'd be as many dead flies in a neat pile in front of him. the man shaved his hair, and he progressed. he attained great strength of fingers and also delicacy of touch. the flies piled up soon flew again, for monks do not kill. his chant murmured against the mechanical whirr of a thousand minute wings. his pate gleamed. he was a lake of calm amidst much chaos.
soon he bid the master adieu. he traveled out and came to a city sieged. enemy soldiers awaited anyone who dared appear at the walls. the monk entered the battlements and ascended the wall, producing his rosary and chopsticks. the saffron brickwork cloak cracked out like a flag as black arrows rained.
one by one, he picked the arrows out of the air and placed them in a neat pile. his arm snaked about tirelessly, putting every single arrow down in every stroke. his eyes were serenely half-closed. his chopstick fingers snapped with unerring focus while his left thumb kept the beads wheeling in precise, unhurried tempo. soon all the enemy arrows stood in five high stacks upon the wall. fearing such talent even from a single man, the army beat a retreat. the monk slipped the chopsticks into his case and went on, safe in his armour of persuasive non-violence.
my ambitions on the other hand, are not that lofty. i train sitting on the toilet, catching mosquitoes with one hand. and i intend to flatten every last one. the blood on my hands are my own anyway!
woven in a net of zigzagging flies, he trained at the snap of the forearm and the twist of the wrist, failing dismally, improving gradually. soon he could go clack clack clack from his lotus seat, and there'd be as many dead flies in a neat pile in front of him. the man shaved his hair, and he progressed. he attained great strength of fingers and also delicacy of touch. the flies piled up soon flew again, for monks do not kill. his chant murmured against the mechanical whirr of a thousand minute wings. his pate gleamed. he was a lake of calm amidst much chaos.
soon he bid the master adieu. he traveled out and came to a city sieged. enemy soldiers awaited anyone who dared appear at the walls. the monk entered the battlements and ascended the wall, producing his rosary and chopsticks. the saffron brickwork cloak cracked out like a flag as black arrows rained.
one by one, he picked the arrows out of the air and placed them in a neat pile. his arm snaked about tirelessly, putting every single arrow down in every stroke. his eyes were serenely half-closed. his chopstick fingers snapped with unerring focus while his left thumb kept the beads wheeling in precise, unhurried tempo. soon all the enemy arrows stood in five high stacks upon the wall. fearing such talent even from a single man, the army beat a retreat. the monk slipped the chopsticks into his case and went on, safe in his armour of persuasive non-violence.
my ambitions on the other hand, are not that lofty. i train sitting on the toilet, catching mosquitoes with one hand. and i intend to flatten every last one. the blood on my hands are my own anyway!
Saturday, July 22, 2006
filling a void with books
i read somewhere yesterday, "when inspiration comes, let it find me working" - picasso.
that is, already working, in the perfect mood and mind, maximum receptiveness; primed to simply continue in immediate frenzy when Inspiration bluebolts from above.
there is inspiration for ideas, and there is inspiration to write. two different things, i believe. i have plenty of half-baked ideas. i want to produce something, but not to endure the process. i'm uninspired to write, verb, and u know why? there's nothing happening in my life. the perpetual apathy becomes a bridle and leash to the creative force. i should get a job. i'm doing nothing with my life... or actually too little, too slowly (i am even reading too goddamn slowly).
my melbourne stuff is all over my room, has been for 2 months. i am clearing cupboard and shelves of a lot of old trash to make way for the 'newer' 4-year-old trash. some ancient books with "kbsm" on them, which i remember from a different age. cassette tapes, hah. in a casette rack i made in kh, form 1. and somehow, a red box emblazoned with "ms-dos 5.0" - must be 14 years old. i'm an avid box collector. i really should get a job.
finally unpacked two cartons of books... and i've about 15 books of different sizes, unread or half-read. not good. already i've a new list which sigh... will just have to wait. buuuut i have just finished "my life as a fake" by peter carey. a chance snatch from the ttdi library.
boring stuff:
this aussie author, highly recommended by my tutor sonia, does not like to use quote marks. reading this book required every shred of concentration: becoz every line and every page tells a lot in just a little - and retention too: becoz he drops things and picks them up many chapters later. this is also due to his chapters being very short. he takes the style of short chapters and short lines (of unquotemarked dialogue) to a new height: short words. four syllables above are rare, u could count them all.
u whizz through the details becoz they're so bloody succinct. which is kind of a shame, but to great effect: it is the details which are many and complex; the whole is actually quite simple. it is based on a true event, and infused with magic realism into a frankenstein tale... with an eastern flavour. how? creation and creator hunt and hide from australia to... malaya! close to home!
our heroine is a poetry mag editor so, lots of literary references i've never heard of (pound, rilke, mallarme?). she interviews a disgraced poet who is now a bicycle repairman (vulcanizer? lucky i know that haha). he is specific in geography: melbourne's courts on queen street and the terminus on spencer (just becoz i've been there), and sydney's quay and wharves, and paddington and chatswood (supposed bohemian suburbs i think... paddys is a gay area now). and when u reach the malay jungle and penang coffeeshops on kaki lima's... it becomes easier, quicker to digest (even as he drops names like raffles and swettenham).
i was oblivious to many of the deeper, layered meanings but it's still an enjoyable read on the surface. probably the thing that sets it apart is the narration, mostly oral, so while all grammar is out the window, it becomes quite personal. no quote marks, this is the third time i'm saying it, so u have to pay full attention, really immerse yourself, shoo everyone and turn off that radio. i'm not what i used to be. i had to plod very laboriously through the... 272 pages?!?
/boring stuff
the other book from the ttdi library is "ah king and other stories", also set in malaya, by somerset maugham. we'd read him in school, true, but this they never told us: a Lot of people outside strongly identify malaya with somerset maugham. i will have to commit myself to READ. it does not come naturally anymore.
it appears even with nothing to do, 3 weeks for 2 books was beyond me.
that is, already working, in the perfect mood and mind, maximum receptiveness; primed to simply continue in immediate frenzy when Inspiration bluebolts from above.
there is inspiration for ideas, and there is inspiration to write. two different things, i believe. i have plenty of half-baked ideas. i want to produce something, but not to endure the process. i'm uninspired to write, verb, and u know why? there's nothing happening in my life. the perpetual apathy becomes a bridle and leash to the creative force. i should get a job. i'm doing nothing with my life... or actually too little, too slowly (i am even reading too goddamn slowly).
my melbourne stuff is all over my room, has been for 2 months. i am clearing cupboard and shelves of a lot of old trash to make way for the 'newer' 4-year-old trash. some ancient books with "kbsm" on them, which i remember from a different age. cassette tapes, hah. in a casette rack i made in kh, form 1. and somehow, a red box emblazoned with "ms-dos 5.0" - must be 14 years old. i'm an avid box collector. i really should get a job.
finally unpacked two cartons of books... and i've about 15 books of different sizes, unread or half-read. not good. already i've a new list which sigh... will just have to wait. buuuut i have just finished "my life as a fake" by peter carey. a chance snatch from the ttdi library.
boring stuff:
this aussie author, highly recommended by my tutor sonia, does not like to use quote marks. reading this book required every shred of concentration: becoz every line and every page tells a lot in just a little - and retention too: becoz he drops things and picks them up many chapters later. this is also due to his chapters being very short. he takes the style of short chapters and short lines (of unquotemarked dialogue) to a new height: short words. four syllables above are rare, u could count them all.
u whizz through the details becoz they're so bloody succinct. which is kind of a shame, but to great effect: it is the details which are many and complex; the whole is actually quite simple. it is based on a true event, and infused with magic realism into a frankenstein tale... with an eastern flavour. how? creation and creator hunt and hide from australia to... malaya! close to home!
our heroine is a poetry mag editor so, lots of literary references i've never heard of (pound, rilke, mallarme?). she interviews a disgraced poet who is now a bicycle repairman (vulcanizer? lucky i know that haha). he is specific in geography: melbourne's courts on queen street and the terminus on spencer (just becoz i've been there), and sydney's quay and wharves, and paddington and chatswood (supposed bohemian suburbs i think... paddys is a gay area now). and when u reach the malay jungle and penang coffeeshops on kaki lima's... it becomes easier, quicker to digest (even as he drops names like raffles and swettenham).
i was oblivious to many of the deeper, layered meanings but it's still an enjoyable read on the surface. probably the thing that sets it apart is the narration, mostly oral, so while all grammar is out the window, it becomes quite personal. no quote marks, this is the third time i'm saying it, so u have to pay full attention, really immerse yourself, shoo everyone and turn off that radio. i'm not what i used to be. i had to plod very laboriously through the... 272 pages?!?
/boring stuff
the other book from the ttdi library is "ah king and other stories", also set in malaya, by somerset maugham. we'd read him in school, true, but this they never told us: a Lot of people outside strongly identify malaya with somerset maugham. i will have to commit myself to READ. it does not come naturally anymore.
it appears even with nothing to do, 3 weeks for 2 books was beyond me.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
taman negara
there were fellow lifesavers kang ai and carol, and stranger yee mei, in a blue inokom atos. it's not the ideal car to be climbing the karak slopes in, but we managed. we managed until gambang.
jerantut was our port of call before entering taman negara. we were going on very rough directions, and when it became obvious we had overshot, we u-turned... at the next possible place to u-turn, which was Very far ahead. it was only after stopping at a rest area to pee that we first saw a map: karak, lanchang, temerloh, maran, gambang. jerantut is off the temerloh exit. we had gone nearly the whole width of pahang, after which would be kuantan on the east coast itself. joys of a road trip?
our jerantut stop was carol's aunt's, a huge old-skool bungalow. it reminds me of my grandaunt's, with large living/dining areas, large wet and dry kitchens, rooms partitioned with wood walls with wire grilling near the ceilings for ventilation. a corridor doubling as a store room, garage doubled as shed, a room under the stairs. homemade fittings, makeshift doors of zinc plates. it houses more than 1 family, so there were 3 sinks in a row, 3 bathrooms side by side, with plastic doors after the wooden ones have disintegrated from the wet. and a squat toilet too - very nostalgic. the kind of house which is iconic of a bygone era.
the next morning we reported at the pickup point, and were driven by our guide angie into taman negara. first stop was our 'chalet', which was a small room with 3 doubledecker beds to each wall and a cramped toilet - u went in, turned and shut the door, and that was it. u showered and shat and brushed standing in more or less the same spot. ok, maybe u had to stretch a bit to reach the sink. no matter, we didn't spend much time in there. so
day 1:
a trek into a batek village. the batek are nomadic orang asli, and their village is a communal area of maybe just 5 families (and their chicken coops). they have been modernized somewhat, and though angie regularly delivers dvds, most still go around the forest barefoot. we had a presentation of making fire from bamboo, and fooled around with a blowpipe. a styrofoam humanoid target hung on a tree, and with my cacated aiming i blew a dart straight between its legs.
we trekked out the back trail of the village to continue to gua telinga. this cave will test all your muscles, as u use legs and feet and hands to crouch-walk, squeeze through rocks and stay steady on threes, freeing one hand to snap a photo of the bats hanging above. climbing the exit is tricky, becoz u have to twist while lifting yourself and maneuver your butt halfway through to get out completely.
after dinner was watching a compulsory hard-sell video before doing the night walk. it's nothing taxing, just a walk with your guide while seeing things in a new light - moonlight. and torchlight. there is a trip to a 'hide', which is a booth for watching nocturnal activity, where we saw deer drinking. that wraps it up, and brings us to
day 2:
canopy walk! the walkways look a lot like planks affixed to steel ladders walled with rope webbing. after walking many sections of these bridges, past trees labeled keruing and meranti and tualang, u reach a very precarious stepladder which takes u to a higher platform. this is when u start to apppreciate the whole intricate system of steel cables, and continue on with more, much higher walkways, till the end. if u wanna do this, always, always look down. it's 50m. and it's what u'll be there for.
after descending from the canopy, we took on the 334m-high bukit teresek. of course while speaking in cantonese u say "pa shan", but it is nowhere near mountain climbing. just a steep hardcore walk, on steps hollowed out between tree roots. i think this has whetted my curiosity for mountains. i might go with my bro to gunung nuang soon.
in the afternoon we took a scenic boat ride. u sit very low on the water, and see trees all around and turn riverbends and see yet more trees, and u'll turn up a fork where the trees stretch and overhang from both banks. i could do this again and again. soon it is too shallow, and u will have to further walk a short trail to reach... lata berkoh. a sublimely beautiful area of tea-coloured river, mini-waterfalls and strong undercurrents. the 4-seater boat to lata berkoh is rm120 and more than worth it.
after an early dinner, we took a quick shower and the evening bus back out to jerantut. supper and photo-transfer and mahjong, and it was
day 3:
lata meraung, a high waterfall this time. a private trip by uncle's pajero. sundays, go early to beat the small crowd and get the coldest water. we (the guys at least) climbed up against the roaring cascades to the upper ledges. and down again. took turns with the camera. climbed different 'routes' up to the middle central ledge, got continuously battered, and took lots of poser pics.
and that was it. without a transpahang detour, it was just 2+ hours back to kl. pretty anticlimactic, since everyone else had class the next day. kang ai was starting a new semester, i helped him move stuff on my first drive into serdang, and we watched the world cup final.
jerantut was our port of call before entering taman negara. we were going on very rough directions, and when it became obvious we had overshot, we u-turned... at the next possible place to u-turn, which was Very far ahead. it was only after stopping at a rest area to pee that we first saw a map: karak, lanchang, temerloh, maran, gambang. jerantut is off the temerloh exit. we had gone nearly the whole width of pahang, after which would be kuantan on the east coast itself. joys of a road trip?
our jerantut stop was carol's aunt's, a huge old-skool bungalow. it reminds me of my grandaunt's, with large living/dining areas, large wet and dry kitchens, rooms partitioned with wood walls with wire grilling near the ceilings for ventilation. a corridor doubling as a store room, garage doubled as shed, a room under the stairs. homemade fittings, makeshift doors of zinc plates. it houses more than 1 family, so there were 3 sinks in a row, 3 bathrooms side by side, with plastic doors after the wooden ones have disintegrated from the wet. and a squat toilet too - very nostalgic. the kind of house which is iconic of a bygone era.
the next morning we reported at the pickup point, and were driven by our guide angie into taman negara. first stop was our 'chalet', which was a small room with 3 doubledecker beds to each wall and a cramped toilet - u went in, turned and shut the door, and that was it. u showered and shat and brushed standing in more or less the same spot. ok, maybe u had to stretch a bit to reach the sink. no matter, we didn't spend much time in there. so
day 1:
a trek into a batek village. the batek are nomadic orang asli, and their village is a communal area of maybe just 5 families (and their chicken coops). they have been modernized somewhat, and though angie regularly delivers dvds, most still go around the forest barefoot. we had a presentation of making fire from bamboo, and fooled around with a blowpipe. a styrofoam humanoid target hung on a tree, and with my cacated aiming i blew a dart straight between its legs.
we trekked out the back trail of the village to continue to gua telinga. this cave will test all your muscles, as u use legs and feet and hands to crouch-walk, squeeze through rocks and stay steady on threes, freeing one hand to snap a photo of the bats hanging above. climbing the exit is tricky, becoz u have to twist while lifting yourself and maneuver your butt halfway through to get out completely.
after dinner was watching a compulsory hard-sell video before doing the night walk. it's nothing taxing, just a walk with your guide while seeing things in a new light - moonlight. and torchlight. there is a trip to a 'hide', which is a booth for watching nocturnal activity, where we saw deer drinking. that wraps it up, and brings us to
day 2:
canopy walk! the walkways look a lot like planks affixed to steel ladders walled with rope webbing. after walking many sections of these bridges, past trees labeled keruing and meranti and tualang, u reach a very precarious stepladder which takes u to a higher platform. this is when u start to apppreciate the whole intricate system of steel cables, and continue on with more, much higher walkways, till the end. if u wanna do this, always, always look down. it's 50m. and it's what u'll be there for.
after descending from the canopy, we took on the 334m-high bukit teresek. of course while speaking in cantonese u say "pa shan", but it is nowhere near mountain climbing. just a steep hardcore walk, on steps hollowed out between tree roots. i think this has whetted my curiosity for mountains. i might go with my bro to gunung nuang soon.
in the afternoon we took a scenic boat ride. u sit very low on the water, and see trees all around and turn riverbends and see yet more trees, and u'll turn up a fork where the trees stretch and overhang from both banks. i could do this again and again. soon it is too shallow, and u will have to further walk a short trail to reach... lata berkoh. a sublimely beautiful area of tea-coloured river, mini-waterfalls and strong undercurrents. the 4-seater boat to lata berkoh is rm120 and more than worth it.
after an early dinner, we took a quick shower and the evening bus back out to jerantut. supper and photo-transfer and mahjong, and it was
day 3:
lata meraung, a high waterfall this time. a private trip by uncle's pajero. sundays, go early to beat the small crowd and get the coldest water. we (the guys at least) climbed up against the roaring cascades to the upper ledges. and down again. took turns with the camera. climbed different 'routes' up to the middle central ledge, got continuously battered, and took lots of poser pics.
and that was it. without a transpahang detour, it was just 2+ hours back to kl. pretty anticlimactic, since everyone else had class the next day. kang ai was starting a new semester, i helped him move stuff on my first drive into serdang, and we watched the world cup final.
Monday, July 03, 2006
lelaki besi
i've never done a movie review. i'm desperate to put some more words up here. put those two together.
superman... is not a superhero. i guess with the 'super' in his name, he's just hero. the embodiment of hero. a bloody god. interestingly, there was a review in the paper which drew parallels between the superman story and the jesus story, and between superman and america i.e. america "is god's land". they intervene to bring good, "even when not needed". i chuckled at that.
from the farm to the metropolis, anyone would need a place to put up. not superman. people ask, "clark, have u found a place to stay?" and he goes, "ah, no..." and they conveniently fill in that plot hole with scenes of spandex heroics. his home is in dealing justice from the heavens.
in his free time, superman zooms into space and tunes his superears to everyone in the world. this plagiarized device (from bruce almighty) enables him to hear all the noise, all the conversation, all the violence. he is omniscient. and at superbullet speed, he is in manila and south america within a minute. that's as good as omnipresent. he is too powerful to be interesting.
i thought about superhero films and story. damn, nothing. we all know how it's supposed to go. childhood trauma, radioactive accidents, unexplained science, animal tendencies, rubber tights, eternal antagonists, green skin, blue skin, alien symbiote skin, pacts with hell... they're all old stories.
i thought about superhero films and action. the action element is horribly missing here. my favourite was spiderman, where i really felt the thrill and vertigo of webslinging, where i was reduced to kiddish iwishicoulddothat!ness. the punisher was dark, gritty and bleak, but still delivered on firepower... when u overlook lousy story. the 1992 batman returns, my second favourite, had catwoman's sexy, slinky "actions". for me the stars of batman returns were michelle pfieffer and... tim burton! haha.
i thought about superhero films and its characters. spidey was a human character, with very human flaws and struggles to make class and crappy jobs (remember the pizza delivery?), and pretty girls and lack of sleep. i identified. batman begins is a good one here, which has the film revolving very much around batman's "weaponised" fear. hulk: went heavy on how the transformation was so torturous on his psyche, but it was so overly ang lee that i fell asleep. x-men... was a whole host of distinct characters in a band of ostracized outcasts.
i wondered whether it's a dc/marvel thing. but no, batman was fine. oh, u know one thing i noticed? superman returns featured pretty opening credits but zilch end credits. boring rows of words and words and words in the same font. i don't remember batman's or any dc film's open/close credits, but if u look closely at most marvel films, their end credits are actually nicely designed. i remember best the punisher's opening credits... go check it out.
so there u go. a superman returns review, where i wrote more about other superheroes. there are no plot twists (discounting the piano), and everything is just a progression of scenes. superman's only weakness is a green crystal, damnit, which is tangible but ironically unsubstantial. the only human thing i saw in him was the initiative to flirt even when the girl's moved on. it's not just human, it's... inherently male. so he is a man after all. but one who can do everything, get my point? too powerful to be interesting.
on the plus side... there are a few utterly hilarious moments - the biggest for me when i laughed and choked and teared on seeing the first "lelaki besi" subtitle. WAH LAU. also, this is a movie built on new technology. the whole thing was shot on a new camera, therefore first of its kind, and looks hyper-real, a digital quality to match film. this sony-and-panavision camera is aptly called genesis. and the dark kate bosworth looks yummy (hints of siti nurhaliza in her profile).
but would u watch a movie about god?
superman... is not a superhero. i guess with the 'super' in his name, he's just hero. the embodiment of hero. a bloody god. interestingly, there was a review in the paper which drew parallels between the superman story and the jesus story, and between superman and america i.e. america "is god's land". they intervene to bring good, "even when not needed". i chuckled at that.
from the farm to the metropolis, anyone would need a place to put up. not superman. people ask, "clark, have u found a place to stay?" and he goes, "ah, no..." and they conveniently fill in that plot hole with scenes of spandex heroics. his home is in dealing justice from the heavens.
in his free time, superman zooms into space and tunes his superears to everyone in the world. this plagiarized device (from bruce almighty) enables him to hear all the noise, all the conversation, all the violence. he is omniscient. and at superbullet speed, he is in manila and south america within a minute. that's as good as omnipresent. he is too powerful to be interesting.
i thought about superhero films and story. damn, nothing. we all know how it's supposed to go. childhood trauma, radioactive accidents, unexplained science, animal tendencies, rubber tights, eternal antagonists, green skin, blue skin, alien symbiote skin, pacts with hell... they're all old stories.
i thought about superhero films and action. the action element is horribly missing here. my favourite was spiderman, where i really felt the thrill and vertigo of webslinging, where i was reduced to kiddish iwishicoulddothat!ness. the punisher was dark, gritty and bleak, but still delivered on firepower... when u overlook lousy story. the 1992 batman returns, my second favourite, had catwoman's sexy, slinky "actions". for me the stars of batman returns were michelle pfieffer and... tim burton! haha.
i thought about superhero films and its characters. spidey was a human character, with very human flaws and struggles to make class and crappy jobs (remember the pizza delivery?), and pretty girls and lack of sleep. i identified. batman begins is a good one here, which has the film revolving very much around batman's "weaponised" fear. hulk: went heavy on how the transformation was so torturous on his psyche, but it was so overly ang lee that i fell asleep. x-men... was a whole host of distinct characters in a band of ostracized outcasts.
i wondered whether it's a dc/marvel thing. but no, batman was fine. oh, u know one thing i noticed? superman returns featured pretty opening credits but zilch end credits. boring rows of words and words and words in the same font. i don't remember batman's or any dc film's open/close credits, but if u look closely at most marvel films, their end credits are actually nicely designed. i remember best the punisher's opening credits... go check it out.
so there u go. a superman returns review, where i wrote more about other superheroes. there are no plot twists (discounting the piano), and everything is just a progression of scenes. superman's only weakness is a green crystal, damnit, which is tangible but ironically unsubstantial. the only human thing i saw in him was the initiative to flirt even when the girl's moved on. it's not just human, it's... inherently male. so he is a man after all. but one who can do everything, get my point? too powerful to be interesting.
on the plus side... there are a few utterly hilarious moments - the biggest for me when i laughed and choked and teared on seeing the first "lelaki besi" subtitle. WAH LAU. also, this is a movie built on new technology. the whole thing was shot on a new camera, therefore first of its kind, and looks hyper-real, a digital quality to match film. this sony-and-panavision camera is aptly called genesis. and the dark kate bosworth looks yummy (hints of siti nurhaliza in her profile).
but would u watch a movie about god?
