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Wednesday, June 13th, 2007
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11:54 am - what mama said
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After reading the ST yesterday, my Mum had a talk with me. I'd expected the usual nagging about the number of times she had told me to steer clear of the political and to be a good little quiet boy.
But while putting on her tudung, on her way out, she said:
'Alfian, if you live in Singapore, you must be like a robot. If they tell you to walk straight, you walk straight. You stray from the path and they will get you. Last time the government said stop at two children, and then they told us to have three or more. Singapore is like that.'
And then she left.
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| Monday, June 11th, 2007
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1:27 pm - dear dear all
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1) Thank you to all who have written in, either on the blog or to my personal email, expressing encouragement and support. I am very touched.
2) I am uncomfortable about being some kind of 'locus standi' to corner the MOE into clarifying their hiring policies. I hope that I am not seen as capitalising on some 'victim' status to generate any publicity for my works. However, I do think it's important that MOE comes up with answers: the public needs to know what 'qualities' are looked for in a relief teacher, or any teacher for that matter. Of course more important than 'qualities' are presumed liabilities. We need to know what kinds of 'background checks' are conducted--with information-sharing with ISD, for example, or MINDEF (for those out there who have declared themselves as 302's). MOE should come clean on whether its gatekeeping process actively discriminates against those who have associations and affiliations with political parties and NGO's, or even those who have simply expressed certain opinions deemed politically critical in a public domain (these include literary works, forum letters, etc).
3) To the speculation that I was practising some form of 'classroom activism' in class: nothing could be further from the truth. I spent almost 40% of classroom time on disciplinary matters--asking the students to settle down, to stay in their seats, etc. Of course teaching Social Studies (the more palatable name for National Education) provides me with ample opportunity to challenge their texts (I was quite disturbed by the lack of a rights-based discourse in a discussion of the Constitution, for example). I could have discussed constitutional freedom of religion, and how this was undermined in the case of Jehovah's Witnesses by the Conscription Act and the Banned Publications Act. But I did not. I was too busy preparing them for their exams to prepare them for life.
4) At least 3 teacher friends have told me that this is yet another signal that they should leave the service. I say: please don't. If this particular incident has created a chilling effect on you, that is another victory for the State. By all means, get involved in whatever activities you want to outside of school, and just maintain some basic level of boundary vigilance in class: that you do not incite hatred against any party or regime. We will all learn this at some point of time in our lives: dissent can be, should be, a discourse of love. Be the best teacher that you can possibly be, and if at any point you are threatened with dismissal over 'unapproved activities' (see I can write bureaucratese too), know that I and many others will be behind you.
5) And lastly, on migrating before this country completely exhausts me. I wrote a play last year, called 'Homesick'.
Patricia: I thought you liked living overseas.
Patrick: I do, Ma. But I think each time someone says goodbye it’s a way of saying ‘yes’. Yes, you win. Yes, I give up. Yes, you’re right, I can’t change anything. I want to have that privilege to say ‘no’. And I can only say ‘no’ if I stick around. Does that make sense?
Patricia: Are you coming with me, Patrick? Yes or no?
Patrick: No, Ma.
Patricia: If you wish, Patrick.
6) And lastly, I'm fine. I have had enough experience dealing with censorship, and the 'no' that I say tends to be drowned out finally by funding and licensing pressures. All I'm doing right now is saying 'no' to practices that many of us might fatalistically take as a given (I hear a lot of 'What can you do? This is the Ministry/civil service/Singapore'). I remember an activist I met in Sweden, who smiled at me when I asked how she can continue with her anti-war efforts while Guantanamo is smugly and triumphantly looming over her cause. And she said, 'But we always lose.' Her voice was bright and optimistic, despite the content of her words. I remember Kwok Kian Woon talking about the public outcry against the demolishing of the old National Library. He said: 'The battles that we are going to lose are the ones truly worth fighting.'
In the meantime, I'm translating my Malay plays into English (for surtitling purposes), attending rehearsals with W!ld Rice, writing some short screenplays, and eagerly awaiting the portfolios of the participants of this year's Creative Arts Programme...
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(13 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, June 10th, 2007
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2:46 am - two pieces for mr boo
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A few weeks back I organised a little sharing session with Brian, Boo and Nick. It was labelled under the rather nondescript title of 'multimedia sharing session', which I think didn't really create high expectations. But I dare say that the students who attended were pleasantly surprised, I've read a few accounts of how impressed they were by the short films, video art works and set designs that were presented. Anyway, some of the participants recorded their impressions of the session through verse and prose pieces.
a plea to mr boo
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by rachel au-yong
record my memories
on 35mm film
you tell all stories impassively,
only letting it show in -
the angle at which her tears fell
(her face to the camera, eyes staring at me)
the silence in his room
(the whirring of a dusty fan)
the rainbow he could see
(self-imposed arcs of black, kissed by blindness)
only you can tell my story
you will not say i was a hero
you will not say i was loyal
instead you will tell them this:
there is someone i left in Chinatown;
with the lights on, the bakkwa gone.
for the piano in 'Katong Fugue'
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by kellynn wee
He played you and played you and played you: wrung you dry of sap and ivory. It was because of this that when she pressed a burning finger to your temple it came as such a shock. Seagulls, you think. The heat of young eggs.
Obligingly you gathered him into the dim pine dusk of your knees, allowed him to reach searchingly for your hands. He smelled hot, mammalian. (But she struck you bell-bright, cleanly, in the lungs.)
Some mornings after, when it is cool and domed, salt forms on your feet. But mornings like these do not come often.
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| Saturday, June 9th, 2007
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2:56 am - Bulan Madu
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Come and support this! There'll be English surtitles. And you'll get the chance to see the stuff I've been doing in Malay theatre. : )
Bulan Madu: Madu II & Anak Bulan Di Kampung Wa' Hassan
30th June & 1st July 2007, 8pm
The Arts House, PlayDen
Tickets: $22 (adults) $16 (students)
(excluding $1 Gatecrash ticket handling fee)
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Friday, June 8th, 2007
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4:38 am - clarice lispector
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Am reading Helene Cixous now, and learning how she's raving about a Brazilian writer called Clarice Lispector.
I think I'm falling in love with her writing too.
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Only an Insect
It took me some time to make out what I was seeing, it was so unexpected and subtle. I was seeing a pale green insect with long legs, which was resting. It was a grasshopper, which people were always assuring me is an omen of good fortune. Then the grasshopper began to move very gently across the counterpane. It was a transparent green, with legs supporting its body on a higher and freer plane, a plane as fragile as the grasshopper's own legs, which seemed to consist only of the color of their outer shell. There was nothing inside those threadlike legs: the inside layer was so thin that it was indistinguishable from the outer layer. The grasshopper looked like a transparency which had come off the paper and was crawling about in green. But however somnambulant, it moved with determination. Somnambulant: the tiniest leaf of a tree which had achieved the solitary independence of those who pursue the blurred traces of a destiny. And it crawled with the determination of someone tracing a line which was simply invisible to the naked eye. It crawled without a tremor. Its inner mechanism was not tremulous, but it had the regular oscillation of the most delicate clock. What could love be like between two grasshoppers? Green and green, and then the same green, which, suddenly, because of a vibration of greens, turns green. Love predestined by its own semiaerial mechanism. But where were the glands of its destiny and the adrenalines of its parched, green entrails? For it was a hollow creature, a splintered grafting, a simple attraction of green lines. Like me? Me. Us? Us. In that slender grasshopper with its tall legs, which are capable of crawling over a woman's bosom without arousing the rest of her body; in that grasshopper which cannot be hollow because a hollow line does not exist; in that grasshopper, atomic energy is conducted in silence without any drama. Us? Us.
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An excerpt from 'The Smallest Woman in the World'
And she considered the cruel necessity of loving. She considered the malignity of our desire to be happy. She considered the ferocity with which we want to play. And the number of times when we murder for love. She then looked at her mischievous son, as if she was looking at a dangerous stranger. And she was horrified at her own soul, which, more than her body, had engendered that being so apt for life and happiness. And thus she looked at him attentively and with uneasy pride, her child already without two front teeth, his evolution, his evolution under way, his teeth falling out to make room for those which bite best.
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An excerpt from 'The Crime of the Mathematics Professor'
"There are so many forms of being guilty and of losing oneself forever, and to betray oneself and not to confront oneself. I chose that of wounding a dog," the man thought. "Because I knew that this would be a minor offense and that no one goes to hell for abandoning a dog that trusted in a human. For I knew that this crime was not punishable."
Seated on the mountain top, his mathematical head was cold and intelligent. Only now did he seem to understand, in his icy awareness, that he had done something with the dog that was truly irrevocable and beyond punishment. They still had not invented a punishment for the great concealed crimes and for the deep betrayals.
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, June 7th, 2007
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2:15 am - kafka's shadow
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I have been silent about this for a while, because I thought I would give the other party a chance to reply. Today I received an email from them; as expected it was crafted to communicate maximum bureaucratic reticence. I reproduce the correspondence below. Have fun reading!
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Re: Inquiry Into Unexplained Termination of Relief Teaching Position
Dear Miss XXXXX XXXX,
I applied online to be a relief teacher some time in April 2007. Subsequent to that, I presented myself to the administration staff of East View Secondary School. I chose the school based on its proximity to my place of residence and the fact that one of my sisters is an alumnus of the school.
Upon seeing my examination results, and considering the fact that they were short of a Humanities teacher, I was asked to leave my name behind with the school. A few days later I was called and told that I will be filling in the vacancy for a History and Social Studies teacher.
On the 16th of April 2007, I started work at East View Secondary School. I was told to present my NRIC and my bank passbook so the school could process my salary from the MOE.
I have had a very humbling, yet, enriching, experience teaching at East View. It has broadened my views on what constitutes the dynamics of a reductively labeled 'neighbourhood school'. I have built invaluable rapport with some of the students in the school, and have learnt to be more patient with those from complex socio-economic backgrounds.
On the 14th of May 2007, the Assistant Head of Department for Humanities asked me if I was able to extend my services to the school until July, based on the fact that he was impressed with my performance thus far. However, later on, I was summoned to see the Head of Department for Humanities.
I was told that the school had received a telephone call from the MOE requesting the immediate termination of my services as a relief teacher. He was unable to give me the grounds for such a decision. When I queried him as to whether this was based on my performance in school, he assured me, in his own words, that 'professionally and pedagogically, we had no problems with you'.
I asked if there had been any complaints made against me by any student or parent. Again, I was told that the school had been very satisfied with my performance, and based on feedback from students and teachers, acknowledged the fact that I had often gone beyond the minimum expectations for a relief teacher—including producing extra classroom material and marking the examination papers. He acknowledged that the school was in a very difficult position, because they would have problems procuring the services of another relief teacher at such short notice.
He explained that the decision mystified the school as well, and I was told that the only way to get any answers was to contact the Personnel Division of the MOE.
I am thus writing to you to seek some answers.
1) What are the reasons for my termination as a relief teacher? I have satisfied the eligibility requirement as stated on your website, which stated a minimum of 5 'O' Level passes. As a matter of fact, I had garnered ten A1 distinctions for my 'O' Level results. I do not have a criminal record. To the best of my knowledge, I have not committed an infraction during the course of my teaching so grievous as to warrant such abrupt termination.
2) Today I received a letter from the Personnel Division informing me that I have not been 'successful for (my) applicaton'. This of course came after the fact; I had already been teaching for a month. Obviously, I would like to know why this letter is sent to me only after my employment.
3) When your directive arrived at the school, I was in the midst of marking the first semestral exam papers for 16 classes. I would like to know why you had urged my termination with such alacrity, without considering how this would affect the school and the student population. I felt a natural responsibility to review with the students the papers that I had marked. In light of these considerations, would it not have been more humane and less disruptive to provide me with a grace period so as to tie up loose ends before my departure?
4) I can only speculate that I have been somewhat blacklisted—as a relief teacher for now—by the MOE. I do not know the basis of this blacklisting, and whether it was generated via any kind of inter-ministerial communication and information-sharing. Does this mean that I will not be able to enter the teaching profession, and that an avenue for possible gainful employment in the civil service has been forever closed to me?
I would like to express my deep distress at the almost alarmist haste in which I was discharged. It seemed as if my continued presence in the school represented some mortal threat to the students. When I faced the Head of Department for Humanities, I could only express my surprise and bewilderment. I extended my apologies for being such a liability to the school, a liability whose grounds elude me.
I am writing to you not as a faceless member of the public, but as someone who values the teaching profession, and who had experienced first-hand the privilege of being amongst the ranks of teachers, albeit in a relief capacity. On the day of my departure, one of my favourite classes had wanted to take a group photograph with me. As I was in the middle of a lesson, I dismissed the request, somehow assured that I would have an opportunity during my final days at school. I regret that decision now; the photograph would have been a much-cherished memento.
As such, I expect a reply from you that is nothing less than forthcoming, sincere, and devoid of either bureaucratic obscurantism and obfuscation. Your hiring policy contains a covert clause that has deemed me unsuitable for teaching. I would like to know what that clause is, not simply as a matter of personal grievance, but for the sake of any Singaporean who wishes to enter the teaching profession. Full disclosure of your hiring policies to the public will prevent future incidents like mine. It is an incident I do not wish on anyone aspiring to be a teacher, yet disastrously unaware of the hidden obstacles that lie to crush his or her dreams.
Yours sincerely,
Alfian Bin Sa'at
**********************
And two weeks later, I got this:
Dear Mr. Alfian,
Thank you for your e-mail and we appreciate you taking the time to write to us. We have read your e-mail with great concern and do appreciate your feedback.
2 In the processing of relief teacher applicatons, we will usually give provisional approval due to the urgency of need at school level, pending further registration formalities. This is why you were initially appointed by East View Sec from 16 Apr to 11 May 07. Upon consideration of your application, we were not able to approve your registration as a relief teacher. Unfortunately, due to an oversight, the school has appointed you again on 14 May 07. We would like to apologise for the inconvenience caused.
3 We would like to explain that as an employer, the Ministry of Education sets stringent criteria in the recruitment of relief teachers. This is understandably so when we strive to achieve a high standard in Education. With keen competition, this Ministry has an arduous task of considering each applicant based on several factors. MOEneeds to determine which applicants most appropriately meet its organisational needs. In the registering of relief teachers, we look at each applicant in view of the specific requirements of the Ministry at the time, considering each application as a whole, on its own merit. While many capable candidates apply every year, only those that best meet the organisation's requirements will be considered for appointment.
4 We are sorry that we would not be able to approve your application for registration as a relief teacher. Thank you for giving us this opportunity to respond to your feedback and we hope this information has been useful to you. We wish you every success in your future endeavours.
For more information on HR matters, please refer to our HR Online at http://intranet.moe.gov.sg/hr_online/circulars01.htm.
regards
Ms XXXXXXX XXX
**********************
Dear good people of MOE,
Do you seriously consider the below to be a reply to my queries?
1) What are the components of the 'stringent criteria' that you have mentioned?
2) What are these 'several factors' by which an application is considered?
3) What are the 'organisational needs' which I have obviously failed to meet as a relief teacher?
4) What are the 'specific requirements' of the Ministry at this time, at this particular point in history, with regards to the hiring of relief teachers?
5) Am I to assume that since you consider "each application as a whole, on its own merit", therefore one or more of these components in my application has been prejudicial to my employment?
a) Name
b) Gender
c) Birth date
d) Nationality
e) Country of Birth
f) Race
g) Religion
h) Address and Telephone Number
i) 'O' Level Results (10 A1's)
j) 'A' Level Results (4 A's, 1 A1 in GP)
k) Previous Employment History (Resident Playwright, W!ld Rice)
l) My lack of a medical condition, illness, disease, mental illness or physical
impairment
m) My lack of a criminal record in Singapore
n) My lack of a conviction in a court of law in any other country
o) My not being charged with any offence in a court of law in any country for which the
outcome is pending
p) My not being under any financial embarrassment
q) My record of never having been dismissed from a Government Service/Government-Aided
School/Statutory Board
(Of course, with your recent machinations, you have managed to alter the record I mention in point q)
6) Am I also to assume also that since my application was assessed, as you have mentioned, "as a whole, on its own merit", that whatever information that has influenced your decision was located autonomously within my on-line application?
7) Can you thus say that there is thus nothing duplicitous in stating that my application was assessed "as a whole, on its own merit"?
There is a section in the GCE 'O' Level English Paper known as Situational Writing, where I believe candidates are sometimes expected to write a letter.
Your letter is littered with an alarming amount of bureaucratese--"stringent criteria", "based on several factors", "organisational needs" and "specific requirements". In fact I would use it as a negative example in a classroom, to teach my students against a kind of writing which is designed for obfuscation instead of elucidation. I will point out to them how this very abuse of language is what pollutes human interaction in our society, how it forecloses any form of genuine dialogue. I respect the word, along with its ability to convey truth and knowledge, and any attempt to use it for contrary purposes I view with much distress.
If I was still a teacher, I would give your letter a failing grade.
Yours sincerely,
Alfian Bin Sa'at
**********************
What redress does the ordinary citizen have against the bureaucracy?
I don't know.
What I know is, I've weaved some elements of the above into my new play.
Come and watch!
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(76 comments | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, June 5th, 2007
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11:06 pm - ok now list looks like this
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1) Alex
2) Melbaby
3) Daniel
4) KS
5) Shou Chen
6) Ash
7) Jason
8) Sam
9) Zach
10) Brian
11) Joe
12) Nick
13) Dong
14) Boo
15) Aaron
16) Isaac
17) Isaac's friend
18) Remy
19) Zhenghan
20) Mel Sr
21) Don
22) Shu Ming
23) My sister
24) My sister's boyfriend
25) Julius
26) Jin
And Choonie and Jay coming; their group consists on 9 people altogether.
That makes 35 people I know coming on 21 July.
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| Sunday, June 3rd, 2007
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6:37 am - excursion
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OK I'm reserving tickets for the performance of ABV3 on 21st July, Saturday, 8 pm.
So far the list includes:
1) Alex
2) Melbaby
3) Daniel
4) KS
5) Jason
6) Ash
7) Sam
8) Dong
9) Boo
10) Brian
11) Joe
12) Nick
13) Aaron
14) Isaac
15) Isaac's friend
16) Zheng Han
17) Remy
18) Mel Sr
19) Don
20) Shou Chen
Did I miss anyone out? This is my last gay play, so all must come!!!
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| Saturday, June 2nd, 2007
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2:40 am - kampong play
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A play I wrote is making a tour of Malaysian kampungs this June. It stars the very versatile Gene Sharudyn, who plays 15 roles, including that of a Pontianak, a rooster and a Malaysian construction worker. Kampung Wa' Hassan was one of the last kampungs in Singapore. Teater Ekamatra will stage Wa' Hassan along with Madu II at the Arts House on 30 June and 1st July. Do come!
Am very tempted to catch the show in Johor.
"Anak Bulan Di Kampong Wa' Hassan"
Director / Pengarah: Gene Sha Rudyn
Writer / Penulis: Alfian bin Sa'at
Cast / Pelakon: Gene Sha Rudyn
Wednesday / Rabu 6 June 2007 - Kampong Sungai Behrang, Tanjong Malim, PERAK
Saturday / Sabtu 9 June 2007 - Anjung Seni, Kampong Pulau Betong, Balik Pulau, PULAU PINANG
Wednesday / Rabu 13 June 2007 - Kampong Jawa, Klang, SELANGOR
Sunday / Ahad 17 June 2007 - Kampong Sungai Karang Darat, Beserah, Kuantan, PAHANG
Wednesday / Rabu 20 June 2007 - Kampong Bukit Cina, MELAKA
Saturday / Sabtu 23 June 2007 - Kampong Parit Haji Ali, Batu Pahat, JOHOR
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| Tuesday, May 15th, 2007
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2:54 am - let's go together manymany filluprows
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| Friday, May 11th, 2007
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12:40 pm - red river
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| Tuesday, April 24th, 2007
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1:13 am - what i learnt in school
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I've been doing relief teaching (for History) for a bit more than a week now at East View Secondary School, a school 15 minutes away from my house, and one which has often been described as a 'neighbourhood school'. The term is of course reductive, and quite often one around which stereotypes agglutinate: the students are ill-disciplined, they are not interested in studying, there are gang members among the school population, etc.
My first week was a difficult period of adjustment. It takes a lot to enter a classroom and to establish a personality from zero. I was very aware that I was a new face and would thus be subjected to certain trials: the kids would test my threshold of patience, see what they can get away with. My position as an unknown quantity meant anxiety on my part, but for them not being recognised with a name meant liberation from surveillance. And thus when I handed out papers they giggled when I mispronounced names, multiple hands shot up when I called out somebody, I was vaguely aware that seating positions were shuffled under my ignorant watch: couples were reunited, cliques re-established, no more the strategic estrangements that kept mischievous combustions at bay.
I have to admit the frustration I felt when half the time spent in a classroom was spent at raising my voice, issuing stern warnings (a whole spectrum of threats was taught to me by the outgoing relief teacher: confiscating EZ-link cards, making them stay back after school, invoking the names of the Discipline Mistress and the Vice-Principal), pleading for the students to return to their seats. The din from the classroom was overwhelming; a tidal wave of restless yelps, red-faced bully laughter, the wailing of the freshly-smacked...a boy at the back gripped the sides of his table and screamed, 'I hate History!' A girl at the side of the class stared at me as if she was putting a hex on me; how in the world did she leave her house in the morning with eyeliner on? A boy ran out of one of the classroom doors and re-entered through the other, as if he was an actor rushing to make an entrance from the opposite wing. A girl was putting some green dye in her mouth, probably Art Class leftovers, and spitting foul green liquid at her classmates. A rosette of lurid green sputum bubbled on her desk. She was like Linda Blair in the Exorcist, but ten times worse, because I couldn't wave a crucifix at her and make her hair evaporate.
But: as I was novelty, the one they could gleefully blindfold and turn around like the guy in blind man's buff, there was something else, almost melancholic, in the background. Some of these classes have had up to four relief teachers in the space of half a year. Every new relief teacher was an opportunity to start again, to revise the rules; but it also meant abandonment. This was what was unspoken in class--why were they fostered out to so many of us, was it a) frustration b) hopelessness c) surrender or d) all of the above that ushered the hasty exits of all their former teachers?
Over the next few days, I realised how humbling teaching can be. For someone used to attention, indifference can be bewildering. I learnt to pace up and down the aisles, standing in the crossfire of rubber bands, eavesdropping on conspiracies of after-school plans, trespassing through barbed wire enmities, lingering over baroque mind-maps, scraps of notes, learning that a boy had cried because a classmate had written the words 'I LOVE' over the name of Mr Jeremy Wee, his English teacher on his journal cover. It is an illusion to think that the classroom is a homogenous neighbourhood. There are overlapping ghettoes.
This morning, a girl in one of the classes got sick and vomited on the floor. She went to the toilet, and I was frankly at a loss as to what to do with the mess under her table. If this was back in RI, I could imagine the class too being paralysed, by both helplessness and embarrassment. Someone might then suggest that we call the school janitor. But in that class, a boy walked up to me, a tall, gangly boy who I once scolded for not bringing his spectacles to school. He said, 'Cher, I go toilet ah.'
I asked him what for.
'I go and take the mop.'
'Do you know where it is?' I asked. He nodded. The boy promptly came back, with a mop and bucket, and cleaned up the mess while I resumed teaching. He did everything with stoic professionalism, although I caught him taking a deep breath, hands on his hips, surveying the mess as he brought himself up to the task. He was probably used to doing housework.
This all happened in a sec one class. And at that point I believed that the boy's initiative, that hands-on spontaneity, was a mark of intelligence. I wished I could have rewarded him in some way for that act. Actually I believe that all the students I teach are intelligent, although perhaps they respond better to visual than auditory input. I have to constantly strain my throat to get them to quieten down, but I realised that when I draw on the whiteboard they are rapt, respectful. And thus I would sketch the faces of Brahmins and Shudras, the four Ministers of the Melakan Sultanate, the Shang dynasty Emperor. I would draw four-clawed dragons, cavemen, even the faces of some of the students, who would blush at the attention. I have had so many requests for drawings: Stamford Raffles, a character called Lady Xin, exhumed from her tomb, from their textbook, and even a hamster. I have complied with all. After lessons, I allow the class to take pictures of the whiteboard, even though I know some teachers impose detention on anybody caught with a handphone in class.
While conducting a mock-election in class, to familiarise them with the meaning of democracy, I picked two students out and asked them to make a campaign promise to the class. In one class, one student offered to have a computer in class, another offered air-conditioning. It did strike me how these were freely available in other schools. In another class, one of the students offered the class money, the other offered 'food every day'. The majority of that class chose 'food every day'.
There's something to learn from that response. The students are hungry. In more ways than one.
My last day will be this coming Thursday. And then the school will start to have exams; they have more than enough teachers to invigilate. I might be called back after the exams, but everything's still up in the air. It's going to be less than two weeks that I would have spent at East View Secondary, but I have a strong feeling that I will miss the students, the cries of 'hello, cher!' when I walk past the canteen, the cheering when I give them toilet breaks, and that one time, when passing by a whole row of students, the voice that reached me: 'Mr Alfian, we kena detention, come and save us!'
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| Tuesday, April 10th, 2007
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7:57 am - abv3 sneak
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All photographs by Mark Law.
After rounds and rounds of auditions, we finally found our little Sylvia! That's Genevieve, a Pol Sci graduate from NUS who's freelancing in hosting and performance.
After Ben put on the uniform, he said, 'This is freaky. I feel like I'm in RI again.'
Dear Robin. I've given him so many lines for this play! I think he's going to go through what Nora Samosir did in ABV1, when she was virtually in every scene.
Oh yah. Pierre and Tim actually have a rather uncanny resemblance...
I'm looking forward to workshops end-May with the cast. There'll be echoes of what happens in the play itself--when the author is interrogated by characters, when they make their appeals, their demands, perhaps more scenes, or less lines...convincing me that they will not exist fully unless their paucity of appearances is addressed, or demonstrating how a single gesture could condense an entire page of dialogue.
After I finished the first draft, I asked myself what the play is about. Other than metacommentary, an homage to another writer, an historical prism, I realised it was really about...ageing. I think it's got to do with turning 30 this year. Shudder. And still doing Superninja. Tsk tsk tsk.
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(9 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, April 8th, 2007
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7:07 am - melbaby turns 26
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So 7th April was Melbaby's birthday. We sang karaoke on Tras Street.
This picture, with everyone looking so sombre and reverential, looks more candlelight vigil than birthday.
Leslie Cheung in concert. Complete with starry curtains.
We took 'Polaroids':
And of course decent pictures like these:
But that was before Superninja jumped in on the action!
Basically I had this hoodie jacket I got from H&M; in New York, which I could zip all the way up...
To the left, in red and grey, is Superninja's guru, Supreme Sensei Sailormooncake. In yellow is repeat student at Ninja school.
Superninja and Senior Ninjas Hellopussy (left) and Keropuki (right). On far right, what Ninjas eat for breakfast--the poisonous fugu, also known as puffer fish.
Superninja peers demonstrating various moves. From L-R: The 'Time Out' (useful for interrupting battle to make hasty retreat), the 'Deadly Fireball Launcher', the 'Internal-Energy-Sapping Palm of Doom' (do not let the smile deceive you!) and the 'Loserrrrrr' (administering Death by Humiliation).
OK Melbaby one last picture for you. I put inside frame. Hope you had a great birthday!
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| Friday, April 6th, 2007
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4:00 am - new york
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But before NY, Philly first, where I met Francis Seow!
He was immensely inspiring, and I loved reading all his books. Of course they're peppered with some bombastic legalese at times, and there are some snide shots taken at 'god', but his analyses are watertight. And actually all that fearless sarcasm does lend much-needed piquancy to autocratic tragedies. Seow calls LHL 'the dauphin', exposes pusillaminous judges, and tears down the blustering charades that we meekly take for authoritative edicts. I got all his books signed.
By the way, I was around 20 pounds overweight for my check-in luggage, no thanks to out-of-control spending on books, DVD's, clothes...there was this bookstore called Strand Bookstore near Union Square that made me delirious with its range. And I also went to Kim's Video Store, where they stock everything from Iranian films to sexploitation. Most of them are gifts for friends...
McSweeney's No. 22: Three Books Held Within By Magnets
History by Sharzad (an art collective consisting of Shirana Shahbazi, Tirdad Zolghadr and and Rachid Tehrani)
The Notebooks of Joseph Joubert
The Photograph as Contemporary Art - Charlotte Cotton
The Consolations of Philosophy - Alan de Botton
The Voice at 3 AM - Charles Simic
Walter Benjamin: The Story of a Friendship - Gershom Scholem
Prison Memoirs of an Anarchist - Alexander Berkman
Camera Lucida - Roland Barthes
Video Art - Sylvia Martin
The Satanic Verses - Salman Rushdie
Documenta Magazine - No. 1, 2007 Modernity?
Hairspray - John Waters
After Life - Hirokazu Kore-eda
The Science of Sleep - Michel Gondry
8 1/2 - Frederico Fellini
Close Up - Abbas Kiarostami
Brokeback Mountain: Collector's Edition - Ang Lee
Bananas - Woody Allen
All not censored! Fuck you MDA!
OK phototime:
At MoMA, aka Museum of Modern Art.
Manhattan skyline from Brooklyn Heights.
The Brooklyn Superhero Supply Store! Hilarious. Buy your own SIK--Secret Identity Kit!
View from the Empire State Building.
Times Square.
Glorious sunshine in Central Park.
Broadway.
My friend Cosmin Costinas, a Romanian curator who is part of the Documenta XII magazines project. Midtown skyscraper panorama. I think we were near the Rockefeller Centre.
Feeling shot at night. Yellow cabs, jaywalking, steam from manholes, NYPD sirens, limousines, rap-blasting vans, and a population so diverse you get tired figuring out who's from where and finally settle for: here.
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| Sunday, April 1st, 2007
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11:25 am - alka
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Alka, my friend from medical school, is now working with the New York Public Health department.
She really doesn't want to live in Singapore.
Alka; beautiful, Malayalee, Syrian Christian, an infectious laugh...
Alka: I once took this taxi one night. And this Chinese driver, when he dropped me, said, 'Wah, Indian also got live in this type of house ah?'
Me: God. And what did you say?
Alka: I stared at him and I said, uncle, no, Indians don't live in houses, Indians live in trees.
Me: Haha.
Alka: I also said, 'Uncle you so stupid, that's why you drive taxi.'
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| Thursday, March 29th, 2007
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10:23 pm - touchstones
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Metropolitan Museum.
Broadway.
And ah, Strand Bookstore at Union Square.
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| Wednesday, March 28th, 2007
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6:44 pm - woohoo
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Just got a ticket for Terence McNally's new play, 'Some Men', at the 2nd Stage Theatre, off Broadway. It's gonna start in an hour's time.
Went to MOMA in the afternoon. Actually didn't have time to finish viewing everything!
It's Spring here, but the weather's erratic. Yesterday was glorious sunshine at Central Park. Today is nippy.
Times Square is a hallucination.
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| Sunday, March 25th, 2007
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1:02 am - i met francis seow
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And I bought his book 'Beyond Suspicion? -- The Singapore Judiciary. I finished reading 'To Catch a Tartar' and half of 'The Media Enthralled' on the plane to NY by the way.
Seow's LKY impersonations were priceless.
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| Saturday, March 24th, 2007
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3:21 am - cheese steaks
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