Archive Page 2
43.
on duty now. saturday sleeps contented with dreams of flight. i am alone in camp now and there is nobody around. plans for today didnt materialize (like many other days). i am very sedate. i feel contemplative, but that is an illusion- i am too tired to think thoughts other than those that please me or reinforce what i already know.
watched heat just now. one of the best movies i have seen recently. michael mann is a lovely director (collateral was a rare delight). both heat and collateral are set in los angeles, both deal with disconnected, isolated individuals caught in a disorienting and alienating urban landscape that is strangely beautiful (breathtaking scenes of LA skyline, complemented with spaced ambient electronic synth). heat is a subtle and nuanced character study of cop and criminal and their relationships to the people around them. it is not a story about archetypes, but a story about human beings and the tension between their professional and private lives.
in collateral, vincent remarks: ‘I read about this guy who gets on the MTA here, dies. Six hours he’s riding the subway before anybody notices his corpse doing laps around LA, people on and off sitting next to him. Nobody notices.’ in heat, maccauley centres his life around the creed ‘dont allow anything into your life which you cannot walk out on in thirty seconds flat if you spot the heat around the corner.’ lovely.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
42.
I dreamed I saw St. Augustine,
Alive as you or me,
Tearing through these quarters
In the utmost misery,
With a blanket underneath his arm
And a coat of solid gold,
Searching for the very souls
Whom already have been sold.
“Arise, arise,” he cried so loud,
In a voice without restraint,
“Come out, ye gifted kings and queens
And hear my sad complaint.
No martyr is among ye now
Whom you can call your own,
So go on your way accordingly
But know you’re not alone.”
I dreamed I saw St. Augustine,
Alive with fiery breath,
And I dreamed I was amongst the ones
That put him out to death.
Oh, I awoke in anger,
So alone and terrified,
I put my fingers against the glass
And bowed my head and cried.
(bob dylan)
#
the feeling that i am doing nothing with my life is hard to shake. the weekends pass in a blur of intense (in)activity and sundays come and go in the absence of a sound. when i wake at midday the first thing i notice is how sallow and emaciated the sunlight is through the blinds and how half the day is gone. after that, the rest of the day is a mere countdown. time is only too short while i wander surreptitiously in my own wastelands. When i enlisted i abdicated purpose, thinking that the dictates of systems and imposed machinery would fashion me into a functional machine for the next two years, consuming me in its entirety. This was pure laziness, borne of the foolish cowardice of self effacement. now, 2 more months left to the end, my heart, awake, murmurs: uncontain me.
#
courage, i shall not be a misanthrope.
Filed under: Uncategorized | 4 Comments
41. i wrote on city paper
“i wrote on city paper,
walked down the scrummed steamy streets
excitedly with a dirt black canvas bag and markers
scribbling on the tickly sores of the tar road,
the nose of unmarked doors,
the beige face of toilet walls-
over the gaping bald spot on the top of road barriers:
going gaga and prolific with my headful of stories and songs:
delighting that my foolish knavery
was noticed, disapproved of and ignored
by a city that no longer hungered for the kind laughter of words,
by a people in love with their own forlorn silence.”
*
the week was whole and good. bergman died, and all over the world winter became colder. ( so it goes, as vonnegut would say). The sunday before he died, i watched a film of his- ‘Ansiktet’ (the magician), that tried to tell me how man was still unawaredly searching for the transcendent in a seemingly random yet rational and godless world order, and that he projected this onto the people he knew. Strange and fitting how i would suddenly pick a bergman film to watch just before he died.
class reunion was noiser this time with frenetic activity and catch-up but quieter in sharing and honest talk. did not have the chance to revive the connection while it sputtered and quavered before it died. too many people at the same time.
happily though, it wasnt simply a nostalgic recollection of things past this time, and that made it lovely.
also, watched han maligned over what i felt was a misunderstanding that was not his fault. people are not naturally born mind readers. already, think he has been very conciliatory by taking the first step to apologize. the complexities of some relationships.
*
sunday, watched my sister get confirmed in church, remembered when my faith was still young, and realized i havent prayed honestly and fervidly for a long time. went to chijmes with dan and conan at night (in a period with everyone coming back, have much forsaken my old gang of lewd troubadours, wry cynics, fruit concelebrators), discussed travel plans for the future, drank rough watered-down alcohol at half price, talked about how life would be after the army, and drank not to the future, but to a present made bearable by the promise of the future.
*
monday: met a long lost friend (whom i havent seen in nearly a year) with dan for lunch. except that i arrived after lunch was already over (the result of having to return to camp to settle some stuff in the morning). at night- dragged by gina to the substation for a screening of short local films (first of every month), saw the room again where i once saw pinter, watched some films- some bad, some better, realized how true it was when someone mentioned that all local films tended to gravitate toward a similar style. now, the whole indie-sensitive culture thing is starting to plague like a curse.
Also, noticed yet again how common it is for singaporean artists (poets, directors, writers..etc.) to attempt to confront their personal identity in relation to singapore in their works. the whole thing about am i really a singaporean when i studied overseas, cant speak my mother tongue/dialect, have different life values from my parents, would rather surf the net than go to the temple, am a rabid homosexual in a conservative society…etc..etc. thing.
not that i doubt the honesty of such reflections, but after so long, it has never once occured to me to consciously and voluntarily define myself in relation to my country in such a manner. in other words, it has never occurred to me (short of being coerced during school in doing so), to think about my singaporean-ness in such concrete and expressible terms. The best thing about a nationality is that it is given to you. you can fall back on it, accept that you are part of a group, without having to worry about whether you qualify or make the cut. most of the time, im much more consumed and occupied with defining myself on a personal and emotional rather than a national level, simply because the former is much more immediate, pressing and urgent, while the latter more abstract.
*
lots of work in camp these few weeks. conducting a live firing next monday. work till late, hit the bed with relief, then sleep a deep and dreamless sleep without qualm or regret.
*
finally, after much incoherence, realized on the train today that the key is not to be in love with your own disillusionment.
Filed under: Uncategorized | 1 Comment
40. no expectations
*
This week: read palestine by sacco (after previously reading ‘the fixer’ and ‘war’s end: profiles from bosnia’), contemplated the universe of absolute infallible distance, watched paprika (after a night of dilly- dallying about town, dinners, drinks and the other implements used to scale the sheer face of indolence), caught an indie band in action at the esplanade (which sounded better a distance away than up close- symptomatic of poor sound systems and lassitude), met random people in pursuit of random follies, went to zouk for the second time in my life (, on a dare, no less, and a treat that didnt materialize), had the first positive club experience in my life, fell in love again with brian patten and his iconography of love, talked about breaching comfort zones (electric fences and cordoned areas), hounded the bewildered city like game until i found the sinatra cd i was looking for, listened to ginsberg’s ‘howl’ and imagined his army of star-eyed platonic conversationalists scouring the dead bones of a dried up country. finally, felt the jazz age descending and ascending upon us all over again, like smoke from an old film noir.
*
Filed under: Uncategorized | 2 Comments
39. Walk of Life
“He got the action, he got the motion
Yeah, the boy can play
Dedication devotion
Turning all the night time into the day”
-Walk of Life (Dire Straits)
*
on the way home, it suddenly struck me that the difference between me and my men was that they were living their lives, while i was simply preparing for mine.
*
yesterday night was the most beautiful night of my life. At least, the most beautiful in a while. by a long shot. I was courageous, i was (precisely) confident. I broke out of the hollow shell that i had been in, finding late in the day that warmth is never too late nor too proud.
-
thanks to pak, debbie, shuuki. having good drinks, bouncing and swaying and snapping our fingers to irresistable music from the 80s ( tears for fears and dire straits!), doing spastic finger dances (and contemplating with devious plans in to try them at a club), trying to blow white russian into each others mouths, posing for photos in poseurer sunglasses, trying to ’sex the cherry’, inventing the replacement for the high-five, having honest intelligent conversation, whacking truth or dare, beating my snake high score, watching shuuki in extreme tipsiness warble and jack herself over and over again. Finally, getting chased out, our head light with stars, during closing time. have not been so unstoned in ages, nor happy. vale.
Filed under: Uncategorized | 1 Comment
headed home tonight after another ndp rehearsal, sat on the bus and watched the night unwind like sinatra’s voice.
-
i went to two starbucks today in suntec city today (which incidentally has 3 starbucks), searching for the perfect ambience. in between, sat on a bench outside till the slight patter of rain drove me inside. read over sun and coffee.
-
humour and respect:
the moral case for area bombing was contested within bomber command itself. The chaplain at bomber command headquarters at High Wycombe was John Collins…John Collins invited the minister of Aircraft Production, Sir Stafford Cripps, to High Wycombe to give a talk on the subject ‘Is God my Copilot?’ Cripps argued that officers should only send men on bombing raids which they thought were morally as well as militarily justified.
Sir Arthur Harris replied by arranging a lecture on ‘ The Ethics of Bombing’. This was given by T.D Weldon, a fellow in philosophy at Magdelen College, Oxford. He later wrote a book on Kant and an austere linguistic work on political philosophy…Predictably, his talk was rather different from that given by Cripps. When Weldon had finished, Collins asked whether Weldon had not taken his subject to be ‘The Bombing of Ethics.’
(Sir Arthur Harris comes out of this story with some credit. It is hard to imagine the German equivalents of John Collins and Sir Stafford Cripps using Luftwaffe Headquarters for an ethical lecture critical of the German bombing policy. And, if they had, Hermann Goering response might not have taken the form of a rival ethical lecture by a philosopher.)
…
The more forceful religious opponent of area bombing was George Bell, the Bishop of Chichester..His opposition to area bombing annoyed Churchill..and is said to have cost him his expected promotion to archbishop of Canterbury.
Bishop Bell put his case in a speech in the House of Lords in 1944. His views were generally both disagreed and respected. Before he spoke he was told by his friend, Lord Woolton, ‘George, there isnt a single soul in this House who doesnt wish you wouldnt make the speech you are going to make. You must know that. But i also want to tell you that there isnt a soul who doesnt know that the only reason why you make it, is because you believe it is your duty to make it as a christian priest.’
Bishop bell accepted that the Luftwaffe had started the large scale bombing of towns. He accepted the legitimacy of heavy attacks on military and industrial targets, and that this made the killing of civilians inevitable: ‘but there must be fair balance..to obliterate a whole town because certain portions contain military and industrial establishments is to reject the balance”
He spoke about the ‘unutterable destruction and devastation’ caused in hamburg..he spoke of phosphorus bombs used on residential parts of berlin so that ‘men and women have been lost, overwhelmed in the colossal tornado of smoke, blast and flame.
Most of all, Bishop Bell was concerned with what seemed to him a blindness to the long term effects of such methods of war:
’why is there this blindness to the psychological side? why is there this inability to reckon with the moral and spiritual facts? Why is there this forgetfulness of the ideals by which our cause is inspired? How can the War Cabinet fail to see that this progressive devastation of cities is threatening the roots of civilization? How can they be blind to the harvest of even fiercer warring and desolation, even in this country, to which the present destruction will inevitably lead when the members of the war cabinet have long passed to their rest?… This is an extraordinary Solemn moment. What we do in war- which, after all, lasts a comparatively short time- affects the whole character of peace, which covers a much longer period.’
No doubt it would have been an honour to have been made Archbishop of Canterbury. But it is far surpassed by the honour of having made that speech at that time.
- extracted from Humanity: A Moral History of the Twentieth Century by Jonathan Glover
Filed under: Uncategorized | 2 Comments
37. midnight special
*
friday- watched diehard 4.0, after that decided to be adventurous and went to zouk after being jio-ed by some of my guys to go there. not a bad experience, but neither was it a really awesome experience. Determined to try out new things, step out of my comfort zone- go to places i have never been, do things i have never done. must say zouk is much more pleasant than mos. a less marked predominance of ns guys for one, much more girls. after that, left and reached home close to three collapsed on bed under the weight of the week.
*
saturday- woke up in time for ndp. shouted at kids till i lost my voice. though, felt i did better than last week. its nice knowing im improving in my ability to handle the most difficult of crowds- rowdy sec sch kids. After ndp, kept stores, scolded some of my guys for being selfish, then headed off to meet conan and dan. by then, was experiencing the effects of flu and fatigue- phelgm, lingering tiredness and aches. we headed to fullerton trying to catch live earth screening but couldnt find location. ended up at boat quay at archipelago brewery drinking herbal beer. After a pint, we all proceeded to jazz at southbridge where we camped till 2+ am. conan drunk (to the extent of owing me 31 bucks and ordering some gay drink called a moscow mule), daniel deceived. good company.
*
sunday- went for lunch with kats, caught a fleeting glimpse of andre with long hair tied up into a ponytail. people stay the same but their looks change. ended up with kats at sungei road where we decided to go indie and browsed the flea market there. saw alot of cool stuff (pirated dvds and games, old books, cds, clothes…etc.). after that ended up reading camus at great world waiting for church while kats went home.
*
one day we will run out of things to do, it is probably already happening.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
36. vale
*
read camus for the weekend, camus whose humanism and absurdity depresses me. camus who was hyperconscious and thus a visionary? (maddened with the dilemma of living,), If the root of all discourse is emotion, (for most often its the emotion that compels the intellect to justify it, not the other way round,) then the root of absurdity is melancholy.
Or as he puts it: Men die, and they are not happy.
*
and If the root of all discourse is emotive, then the logical conclusion of living one’s life according to generalizations preached would be the interminable and unbearable dominance of that particular emotion.
in other words: our irrationality, our inability to see things to their logical end, is a blessed gift.
*
before the weekend with camus was a weekend with kafka. We conversed readily over coffee. He told me about a man who wanted to get into a castle. it was a story of misunderstandings and the incomprehensibility of man to man, really. the story made my nights dark, my eyes tired, and my days dreary.
*
the weekends have been good to me, demanding only my hard labour on saturdays, and not my mind. spent this saturday walking around city hall area looking for a pair of shoes. love out of the way run down shopping centres, heavy with character and light with prices. i could spend my post ord days exploring such places. discovered vintage jeans for 5 dollars at peninsula. spent hours searching for mocassins before finding some at bata. small joys.
at midnight met anthony and his cousin. if i could divide the people i know into two groups, one would be the group to whom i feel like im playing some sort of preconcieved role whenever i interact with them. The other group would be the group i can entirely myself with. Just a feeling- i’m probably still the exact same person to either. Anyway, ant belongs to the latter.
*
watched transformers on sunday, then booked in for stupid saf rededication parade ceremony on mon morning. booked in, had the parade, settled some admin, then booked out close to 12 to clear my 1 day of leave. Went to lunch with an old friend (hazy as mist), or did i simply lunch with my memory of her? questions that one shouldnt answer.
anyway that night was up at ians house, and after that- drinks with boon at balcony (on him! aw yeah.). ended up high and adrift like a bottle in the ocean. reminisced over the past and projected over into the future. Hit the land of (only) warm melting colours in 3 pints and a bottle- finished off with oyster omelette and carrot cake at a nearby kopitiam before left for home. booked in the next day ready to hit a new week.
( 03/07/07)
Filed under: Uncategorized | 1 Comment
35. man of the hour
” From that hour comes man’s truth; and
during that century truth sleeps between
the restless arms of disturbing dreams…
That hour was the birth of the sermon on the
mount, and that century wrecked the castles of
Palmyra and the tower of Babylon.
That hour was the hegira of Mohammed, and that
century forgot Allah, Golgotha, and Sinai.”
– Kahlil Gibran
SATS were not as bad as expected. in fact, they were quite decently easy, although ran a little out of time for lit. fortunate/unfortunate? oversight of using barrons to practise- barrons which is pretty damn hard and way above the usual sat standard of questions.
getting that out of the way, sudden influx of free time since there is now no longer any need to study. my bunkmate/fellow officer/good friend going for his mortar course. leaving me alone without his psp for entertainment. reading don quixote now, halfway through its thousand page thick length. love the humour, the laughability, and the ironic trace of sadness at the way nobility of the spirit is reduced to a mockery of itself.
want to read more, learn new things, at the same time balance it with being a good officer. think i can do a better job than predecessor. it has been a week of deconflicting (another manifestation of armyspeak!) issues between my commanders and my troopers. troopers dont respect the new commanders, constantly disobey them, negotiate, reason with them – veiled insubordination in stronger terms-
many reasons for this. partly because troopers unused to working style of new commanders- hence this normal difficult adjustment period. However, also partly because my new commanders have misinterpreted the whole concept of leadership. leadership isnt about ordering people around. it is often about joking, talking cock, persuasion, chiding, and other more subtle ways of influencing people. soft power versus hard power. troopers resent bossiness. being ordered to do saikang without given a clear reason. these are scouts- streetsmart, streetwise, not your ordinary men. more importantly, leadership is about gaining respect, which can only result from making yourself an exemplar. first outfield with new commanders, many of my troopers pissed that new commanders fucking slept all the way, leaving the troopers to man the radio comms the whole time. how can a commander sleep more than his men?
commanders training next week, going to make it a tough one. iron out these issues. as an interim pc before atec- my role is clearly defined. bring the platoon up to shape- give my successor an easy time- work towards the future-
last week was a good week. battalion proficiency test was so-so. expected problems. need to iron out procedures, whip people into shape. overall, still think we did ok. not great but ok, unlike what some others think. the levels of self deception get most intricate when the deception aims towards maintaining an acceptable opinion of yourself.
after bpt highlight was vesak day’s fruit and veg cult performance at cap. it was at UCC this time- the dinner. wonderful memories of CAP times- moshing around the open area, being backstage, remembering dans kabuki performance, group of us crazy fucks shouting “but daniels so hot!” at the most inappropriate intervals. that was the age of being a retard and not caring. heh.
much more important than dead memories were people though. met dawn and nurul at cap. reunited with old cap buddies and fellow cult members weiliang and shoujie there too. afterward, supper with weiliang, conan and dawn at the prata place. truly happiness is cheap for those who are willing to seize it.
yesterday- battalion change of command ceremony. after that, happy hour in the mess. went with my platoon sergeant, got super drunk (8 – 9 mugs of duty free beer). OCs challenging PCs to table soccer and constantly losing, everyone jio-ing the old and the new CO to drink. playing all sorts of inane drinking games- as befits members of the armour family (for truly is beer such an integral part of the armour culture that teetotallers are jeered) RSMs and CSMs drunk. ended up wrestling with quek all the way to the bunk, getting trashed at 8 ball pool by my ps. woke up today without a hangover. to be honest, even without this today, army has been an unforgettable experience. if they didnt indent a new scout pc alredy, i would have considered extending to follow my guys through their atec.
and oh, thanks to anthony for the comments! good to hear from you!
Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
34. a scanner darkly
1. the last one month has been spent realizing the job was much harder than i thought it was. discovery of the finer print in things. formally taking over next wednesday. want to do a good job. need to strike the balance between sticking to personal principles, and compromising to suit other people. whenever one compromises, one always reassures oneself on the validity of one’s action by arguing that the personal principle being compromised is not really a personal principle at all as it isnt actually that important. natural convergence toward inner spinelessness. need to make conscious effort.
2. conscious effort- exemplifies how sometimes i feel like i am two different persons in camp and out of camp. almost as though sometimes i try to mold myself into another person.
3. people back, beautiful meeting with friends from overseas. talking about universities inspiring. this is personal weakness. constant need for something to look forward to, or else will plunge into well of despair. courage! need to change.
4. even this whole pseudo philosophical, meditational persona that actually write out these blog entries is an inherently fictional creation. the sum of a personality is always an inconsistent whole. the reduction of that personality into linguistically comprehensible terms- words, letters, thought- necessitates the cropping of that inconsistent whole into a consistent, concise summation.
5. which is a paradox- meaning i am both more complex and more simple than i sound, since this whole ruminative character is merely a small part of me.
6. rather insecure over SATs, literature is rubbish- either i have lost my touch, or i m simply incompatible with their way of thought.
7. i am proud of my sergeants. full troop ex on mon. hopefully will do well. am considering extending ord. have not discussed it with anyone, neither have i examined personalmotivations- is this really a love for the job, or the foolish desire to fulfill some ideal of service and dedication that has mythologized the very worldly grimy dusty day to day nature of what i am doing now.
8. sometime in the last 4-5 years i became alot less extroverted and alot more difficult.
9. fulltroop on monday, ndp on other days, commanders training, men clearing leave- i actually do enjoy the job.
10. the problem is, i lack energy to pursue productive pasttimes during my free time. no brain left to study, no heart to practice the guitar seriously- very persuasive urge to find a bed and lie down whenever i am free.
11. Grow up! how can you be so old and young at the same time.
Filed under: Uncategorized | 2 Comments
Search
-
You are currently browsing the dispatches weblog archives.
