READING BABEL


The cinema attendant asked customers if they were watching "Bar-bell" and promptly invited them to the right hall. This film must be worth a weight of meaning if the pronunciation merits as such. one associates the biblical image of babel to signify the unifying language cell as having fallen apart, and disintegrated into other diverse soundscapes that emerge to populate distant lands. the oral geography of cultures and tongues. similar to the multicultural hybrids in film. the screen transmutes a mangled strand of stories. the director's cut nips, snips and tucks each setting, invigorating and surrounding them with sonic lines. the language of face, faith and restless footfalls running the arid dustlands in morocco, and only to find themselves seduced and tied to spanish tapestries in mexico. a sudden hijack of fate. to bilocate halfway round the world, locked in embrace, almost contained, within a cold japanese skyscraper.

language communicates. it also isolates. some are stripped of words. others bravely articulate a half-spoken truth. a few intoxicate the body with new beliefs. its
soul empty like cavity. we skin away its
many-sexed words,
re-energising our syntax and tone.

the chaste and stained origins

a disserter's searing silence

interrogated and
turned
over and over

her loss of faith

replayed in these reels
in the heat of night

----------------------

eric khoo's 12 Storeys and Be With Me
and roytan tan's 4.30. filmic yearnings for connection.
we hear about loss and fatigue long before we learn to sense them.
it is easier to feel than speak about them at times.

language and naked modernity





dislocation & communion

rewording our

disenchantment...

an ancient blessing ,
disarming the manners

that mask our desolate depths.

everything, everyday
while on leave :(





i munch on fresh chilli for most meals, making the best of it since they cost so much in melbourne. lunch consists of brown porridge with green spinach and salmon steamed by the side. life slows to a crawl and i learn to please the palate with a dose of green, red, metallic colours tucked in bowl. the paper continues to fulfil my addiction for news. i miss teaching somewhat, those keen eyes browse the pages for rock-solid content or eclectic concepts for use in stagnant classrooms. i continue to cut them as my mind sees fit. it hasn't slowed down. will snip on knowledge in whatever form it takes. quiet on the outside. insistent and restless within.

when all is done, the kitchen keeps silent even as the noon sun is stalking. ready to maul the temperate morning.








mynahs on the peak. near the rims of gombak stadium. an audience to sunrise. a few gather, some choose to fly away. drawing us to notions of freedom (or is it choice?). an uneven flight guides the day.

















symmetry everywhere. lines, grills, fences and rails. in ascension. in direction. rationality & objectivity. tracing sensibilities in geometry. my one constant childhood fantasy. one line. one life. you wish life was that certain sometimes.

january ending...


con's wedding and our longtime reunion...my first time as host and i did well...hehe...more post-party drinks and another trip to ubin, this time, just for chris!




nie gang...we laughed the good old days away and continued to %$&&&*(#$ our cob-webbed tutors who continue to exist in the far end of that galaxy...cara, anton and ma did the usual unglam thing...spotted a cool waxing poster of some warton chio-bu with sprigs of armpit hair all splattered on the wall. wa lau eh!!! we had to pose and to raise the stakes higher....i did the directing instead. i would have opted for something more malicious still. some kinds of hair, cheerful as they look, deserved to be shaved completely and plucked to nothingness like tow gay.


try okinawan at tanglin shopping mall...bittergourd sushi with delicate slabs of sashimi wedged between, the bitterness becomes almost tangy in taste. a heavy-duty load of anti-oxidants wrapped in rice paper. the eatery proudly boasts of okinawans being known for their longevity, based on the meals they eat. much of the menu is written in japanese too. we also kissed and chewed up the most delicious piece of ox cheek ever (or was it tongue???). a loyal stream of jap expatriates stepping in; a sure sign of culinary goodness being served here. on a previous trip to another restaurant in great world- top shell filled with superior stock stacked on a mini-hotplate of blue flames which kept the dish warm and looking cool...i poached the shell home. its next life: a raw piece of installation art in the humble washroom. christianed 'pacific'- faithful to its origins.



my birthday came a little early this year. shari and karen did a bluff. asked me to accompany them for a tattoo. we left after mass...went to some block in toh yi, was told the practitioner operated from his home. we climbed the stairs and knocked the door. an indian lady with a cryptic smile on her face opened the door, with candlelight in tow...it was dark inside and my mind was half-racing to second guess the other career of this mysterious tattoo artist...entered and saw curtains with shadows behind them...felt dark and creepy within...and gapowwow................. they emerged, sung a broken-jinggly and half-rung birthday song for me....the person was none other than john rozario's maid who acted as the gatekeeper! for a moment, i had my attention all on shari, wondering where the tattoo would be...she even picked a design for me..a clump of celtic trees...should i?