cookie-cutter comments

He smiled as he teased me ceaselessly. Finally cosy in the silence of the conference room and working on something together after quite a long break from each other. It was maddeningly cold, and the day, afternoon, evening, night blended into one hallucination. I nodded absently, poring over a sheet of incomprehensible numbers in thin rows, flanked on either sides by equally blotched words on photocopied paper.

That comes from taking the time to consider the folly of one’s own actions.
[more..]

I’m still nursing a very sore throat from last night’s session. It was a blast in so many ways. We had a barbeque at our boss’ house, but the main event of the night was the whole group of us getting piss drunk on quality tuak, whiskey, gin, bailey’s, wine and port. Seriously, it was that crazy.

And she was beautiful. I hate this.
[more..]

Machiavelli once described Moses as an astute person who, in the quest to consolidate his power, found in the idea of an absolute, singular God the means to wield control over the israelites under his charge. Moses’ only virtue was the fact that he had a direct link to God. Now, whatever we may believe the matter to be, it’s somewhat fortunate for Moses to have such access, isn’t it? And right down the ages, we have the papacy wielding such immense power by virtue of the fact that christian kingdoms of the time required the divine sanction to rule that only the pope could provide — else, such a king would not be recognized.

Quite a bit of power there, ya? An excerpt from The Prince:

[more..]

There’s probably nothing more exhausting than fighting for what you believe in. I know, I know, my view is mostly contrarian, since it’s become an anecdotal fact that if you do something you believe in, it shouldn’t drain you to the point of inaction. The flip-side is, I suppose, that when you’ve expended a great amount of energy into something - physical, emotional, mental - things begin to take a toll.

I watched my friend scramble up the slopes of his career, and there were times when I wondered where he got the strength to keep going, keep at it. His answer, delivered in his immovable, laconic style, was: “My family”. It’s the way he’s said it. When he said it I looked for cues indicating if he did it for his family for real or not, and I couldn’t detect anything past his impassive face. I’m pretty sure family men know the full weight of that expression: “My family”.

[more..]

“I will kill you, you asswipe!”

“I will kill you and your mother you swine!”

“I will kill you, your mother and your dog!”

And so it goes. I thought we were bloody civilised. At least, those of us who pretend to have an existence on this planet - let alone the internet - should act with some measure of decorum. But you know something? Acting like a child is not restricted to bad posters, commentors nor to script-kiddies intent on showing off l337 skillz. Promising damnation for perceived hurts against communities you don’t actually care about, for content you couldn’t arsed to think through, really is the shits, brothers and sisters.

[more..]

Don’t ask me what prompted this.

For some of us, reading the opinion columns in newspapers comes first, before the actual news. That’s normal, I think. We either agree with the columnist or *gasp* we don’t. And when we don’t, depending on the tone of the column, we either disagree objectively, or irrationally disagree to give said columnist the time of day for perceived wrong-headedness, arrogance and such.

Hey, who died and made newspaper columnists god, eh?

And so some of us, a small percentage anyway, go online, visit their blog-management dashboards and type up suitable invectives villifying said columnist. There are some, however, who take this a step further: they write up opinions — and that’s what it ever is, isn’t it — in such a way that their opinions sound more declarative as fact than as opinion. That’s what’s scary, to me.

Hey, who died and made bloggers god, eh?

Oh well…

The good doctor alerted me to the fact that he’d been posting instalments of Kassim Ahmad’s thesis here. It’s been very, very interesting so far; a brief foray into methodologies of interpretation, and then a brief overview of a pre-Islamic Malay community. I think the meat of En Ahmad’s interpretation comes in later chapters, but the initial layout of the terrain has been interesting in and of itself.

Go check it out!

And two fellas in Singapore get shafted. I’m sure by now the whole Singapore blogging community is in an uproar, or has been in an uproar for the past few days. Apparently two yahoos got themselves charged with… making racist slurs on their blogs. I wonder how that would measure up against our content code, though I’m sure comments denigrating another race is beyond the pale under the general prohibitions.

I’ve discussed this before at some length, over here. I don’t thinkI should rehash anything, it’s just vaguely disturbing that all this comes about two weeks after I wrote that bit. I’ll have to grab a hold of Singapore’s Seditions Act, so if google expert can help me out here, I’d appreciate it.

[more..]

The picture on the cover of my book portrays a gentleman in black, stiff collar awash in a sea of impressionistic daubs, and the stark blackness so contradictory like a stiff veil. His lips are pursed and his right hand dangles a cigarette like an afterthought. The portrait is like an afterthought. A semblance of an afterthought, relegating the subject further into the background: he looks a part of the hazy yellows and greens behind him, but for his black attire.

[more..]

It’s a corporation of paper clips, an army of post-its.

Sometimes listening to music is like listening to torn pieces of paper stuck haphazardly all over the board. You listen and lose yourself in it and then you emerge bewildered.

An army of paper clips marched by the office today. They came with straight suits and clean lapels. An army of post-its walked by today. They wore yellow hats that twirled in the non-existent breeze.

She was in black today. Like the full moon in black.

The photocopier’s floating by, afloat in a constellation of rubber stamps, hot words and a full moon in black. Silent black. Photographs in monochrome printed on expensive sheets of draft.

An army of paper clips marched by today, and walked right up to reception. An army of paper clips demanded. They banged tubular metal arms on wood and spoke in loud rasps. Little bobs of upturned wool scurried about looking for meals. We set the room on fire.

I was just considering a few minutes ago how it’s not in my nature to talk about love. I leave that to films (which I rarely watch) or books (which I never read) on that subject, seeing how eloquence — when measured and deliberate — always sounds so much better when not spewed randomly. We can’t always be perfect, can we? Romantic movies and books have that kind of perfection, we usually don’t. And I make it a point not to read anything that would remind me of giggly school girls, mills & boon(s) and such; I once made the mistake of doing so and I’ve been traumatized ever since.

And all of the above means I’ve just watched ‘Before Sunset’ yet again. Forgive me for being a right awful caveman, but I’ve not seen ‘Before Sunrise’ when I first caught its sequel. Before watching ‘Before Sunset’, I didn’t have a clue about its predecessor, and I didn’t want to know either. From all accounts it was romantic, etc. etc. So I can’t really say why I bought ‘Before Sunset’ when it arrived here, maybe I was motivated by the fact that I’d be seeing the gorgeous Julie Delpy again, or maybe it was because I’d be catching a thinner version of Ethan Hawke, who I last saw in ‘Reality Bites’ (yes, that long ago).

[more..]

An excellent writeup from Brendan Pereira today, over here, which I read just after reading Totoro’s entry on cost of living. Mr Pereira makes an interesting point about the political costs of reducing fuel subsidies to PM Badawi; it’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s something we need desperately. As the price of raw crude escalates on a global level, our inability to remain competitive despite such increases except with government subsidies is troubling.

Mr Pereira remarks:
[more..]

Firstly, a link to Mahathir’s controversial keynote address here.

I found the speech interesting, full of rhetorical fervor and worded in just the right ways that seem to defend wrongs in one’s country by pointing out the ‘log in your eye’. All that’s well and good, but in effect does nothing to mitigate the singular fact: that there were human rights abuses — ignored in his speech — and that these occurred during Mahathir’s reign.

Those are plain, “simple” facts for which expediency was the main reason, expediency and it seems, political survival. While the overriding hypocrisy of a global, ‘concerned’ humanist majority shouldn’t be missed, it shouldn’t overwhelm the “simple” fact that there were instances of repression in our country which do amount to wrongs.

Two wrongs don’t make a right.

[more..]

Tun Mahathir’s been saying quite a bit of things about the revamped Proton, which still a headless chicken as far as I’m concerned. A September 7th article in the EdgeDaily carries a short interview with the Man concerning Proton’s future and the current state of events in his pet project. Much of what he’s said is in his own characteristic style: protestations of ignorance couched in words meant to infuse the listening public with the impression that he’s not exactly being truthful. Politician’s sophistry? Maybe:

“Well, I don’t know. I have not been told about these things but you are going to find a lot of things wrong with Proton now,” said the former prime minister, in response to a question on a news report that Proton may shelve plans for a production plant in China.

[more..]