tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32777861775982250352024-02-08T07:18:27.615+08:00District and CircleReportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-71961140311477944952013-04-07T19:32:00.001+08:002013-04-20T17:48:41.097+08:00Adrienne RichDiving into the wreck is a <a href="http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15228">strange and beautiful poem</a> by Adrienne Rich
I also love Margaret Atwood's thoughts about the poem:
"The wreck she is diving into, in the very strong title poem, is the wreck of obsolete myths, particularly myths about men and women. She is journeying to something that is already in the past, in order to discover for herself the reality behind the myth, "the wreck and not the story of the wreck / the thing itself and not the myth." What she finds is part treasure and part corpse, and she also finds that she herself is part of it, a "half-destroyed instrument." As explorer she is detached; she carries a knife to cut her way in, cut structures apart; a camera to record; and the book of myths itself, a book which has hitherto had no place for explorers like herself.
This quest--the quest for something beyond myths, for the truths about men and women, about the "I" and the "You," the He and the She, or more generally (in the references to wars and persecutions of various kinds) about the powerless and the powerful--is presented throughout the book through a sharp, clear style and through metaphors which become their own myths. At their most successful the poems move like dreams, simultaneously revealing and alluding, disguising and concealing. The truth, it seems, is not just what you find when you open a door: it is itself a door, which the poet is always on the verge of going through."Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-45495879412971723472013-04-07T19:25:00.001+08:002013-04-07T19:25:06.754+08:00The crooked timber of self-interestAnthony Lane reviews the book <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2012/09/03/120903crbo_books_lane">'Portrait of a Lady'</a> and talks about why it is such a great American novel. Henry James wrote about "the crooked timber of self-interest in the most altruistic of intentions..." and Lane asks, "Are we all so mercenary, cutting and trimming people, whether unwittingly or by design, to fit the pattern of our own desires? Such are the politics of personhood." I loved the language of the review and the fact that it mirrored the struggle between self-sufficiency and its limits. Here's another sentence that I liked.."and so the book traffics back and forth, with sublime indecision, between the need to stand firm, in Emersonian majesty, and the yearning to break one's pose and join the more crowded landscape of mankind." Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-71191463842833954722011-08-19T15:27:00.002+08:002011-08-19T15:28:17.920+08:00Great article on the blame gameFrom <a href="http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-interpersonal-explorer/201108/playing-the-blame-game-in-relationships-exercise-in-futility">Psychology Today</a>
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<br />"In 1967, Watzlavik, Beavin, and Jackson published The Pragmatics of Human Communication, which identified several axioms (i.e., commonly accepted principles) of interpersonal communication and how it works. One axiom, "The Punctuation of the Sequence of Events" (p. 54), provides insight into why the blame game is so common in interpersonal communication.
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<br />In reality, relational communication events are continuous; they are ongoing, with no clear-cut beginning or ending. In other words, in the context of close relationships, communication events are continuous transactions, as they are tied to the past, present, and future of the relationship. As participants (or observers), however, there is a tendency to divide communication transactions into sequences of stimuli and response, or cause and effect - to impose our own punctuation on the communication transaction."Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-55220856939223789342011-08-10T15:01:00.003+08:002011-08-10T15:05:19.412+08:00From the Granta 'Money' issue"In fact the trouble I was having with ethics was that I'd never thought about them before -- in any sense. I had opinions on almost every subject, could argue any position and believed in almost nothing. I grew up, not necessarily with the belief, but with the feeling powerfully impressed on me, that life was a question of surviving, of making it through, not getting caught." - Richard Rayner (Rich, Rich, Rich)Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-72493171773113267322011-05-04T13:54:00.002+08:002011-05-04T13:58:44.198+08:00The 'Marginal Cost' Mistake<a href="http://alexcusack.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/how-will-you-measure-your-life.pdf">Prof Clayton Christensen in HBR </a><br /><br />"Weʼre taught in finance and economics that in evaluating alternative investments, we should ignore sunk and fixed costs, and instead base decisions on the marginal costs and marginal revenues that each alternative entails. We learn in our course that<br />this doctrine biases companies to leverage what they have put in place to succeed in the past, instead of guiding them to create the capabilities theyʼll need in the future. If we knew the future would be exactly the same as the past, that approach<br />would be fine. But if the futureʼs different—and it almost always is—then itʼs the wrong thing to do.<br />This theory addresses the third question I discuss with my students—how to live a life of integrity (stay out of jail).<br />Unconsciously, we often employ the marginal cost doctrine in our personal lives when we choose between right and wrong. Av oice in our head says, “Look, I know that as a general rule, most people shouldnʼt do this. But in this particular extenuating<br />circumstance, just this once, itʼs OK.” The marginal cost of doing something wrong “just this once” always seems alluringly low.<br />It suckers you in, and you donʼt ever look at where that path ultimately is headed and at the full costs that the choice entails.<br />Justification for infidelity and dishonesty in all their manifestations lies in the marginal cost economics of “just this once.”Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-5273948456776398802011-04-25T13:40:00.000+08:002011-04-25T13:41:12.874+08:00Catalogue of rejected thoughts"It seems to me that the writers we love most are those who manage to capture something we ourselves have thought and rejected, for being forbidden, dangerous, elusive, something that if we made room for it would undo something else we want to keep, so we force it away—literature as a catalogue of rejected thoughts. For the way they can hold onto what the rest of us would put away as dangerous, they become heroes, the ones who emerge with the one thing we hoped to keep secret, but know we need. When I say to you James Salter is one of my heroes, that is what I mean."<br /><br />--From an essay by <a href="http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2011/04/11/sex-and-salter/">Alexander Chee</a>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-25322188644327105552011-03-29T23:11:00.007+08:002011-03-29T23:42:49.434+08:00From "In Treatment"- my favourite show at the moment<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdh31vgux69-6QObRNUc3yV01Uy0MWBsk6sUyh3dUYhCOUrWPdlWXWDUzNOAwR4mwGpR4P1cd7BAx8CyXwCZk120HLQFyiUE7IPGVcyPZQzJfRvI9SRMzqcmZgBZra0rBpKHqoS_KRQS7/s1600/Paul.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdh31vgux69-6QObRNUc3yV01Uy0MWBsk6sUyh3dUYhCOUrWPdlWXWDUzNOAwR4mwGpR4P1cd7BAx8CyXwCZk120HLQFyiUE7IPGVcyPZQzJfRvI9SRMzqcmZgBZra0rBpKHqoS_KRQS7/s200/Paul.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589526895096167618" /></a>Just watched episode 16 of Season 3 where Adele beguiles Paul with her analysis of his situation. The scriptwriting in this series is so complex and nuanced that it takes my breath away.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Adele:</span> "The first day I met you, you insisted that you and Gina had it all figured out, that your need to save people started with your mother's illness.."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Paul:</span> "..and does that seem far fetched to you?" <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Adele:</span> "It doesn't. But I think caring for your mother was also a way of saving yourself. It was miserable, yes.. but it was also safe and familiar and it kept you from having to find any real connections elsewhere, from risking yourself in the outside world..<br />And it also had the convenience of allowing you to blame it all on your father. <br />And it's really not so different to what you do to this day, is it? You cloister yourself in your apartment or your burrow-like office, you convince yourself you're sick, you'll accept a growing paralysis rather than taking a risk and finding where or towards whom your real passion lies. <br />And is it any wonder you haven't found what drives you yet?<br />You're 57 years old. And at some point you're going to have to move past the stories you've assigned to your life. These steadfast explanations you've settled on years ago. You have to look at yourself again. For real answers, you have to take that risk."<br /><br />This is so true for all of us at any age...maybe particularly our mid-thirties and forties. We need to move beyond the stories we have assigned to ourselves and our lives and take at least a few risks all over again.Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-16970825386839215232011-03-23T09:32:00.002+08:002011-03-23T09:33:49.300+08:00Found online in a comment thread...."To be whole, let yourself break.<br />To be straight, let yourself bend.<br />To be full, let yourself be empty.<br />To be new, let yourself wear out.<br />To have everything, give everything up."Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-16982990993997588992010-08-24T21:42:00.004+08:002010-08-24T21:48:01.956+08:00Godawful Poem#2Thanks to Peter and his <a href="http://zigzackly.blogspot.com/2010/08/grandson-of-godawful-poetry-fortnight.html">'Godawful Poetry Fortnight' </a>, I'm here again with my sickly second offering.<br /><br /><br />I wandered lonely as a status update<br />I surfed, I liked, I borrowed.<br />In Twitter, I found a rowdy crowd,<br />In blogs I drowned my sorrow.<br /> <br />Before I knew what hit my soul,<br />I surfed, I read, I borrowed.<br />RSS feeds told me all I need,<br />Now I can’t tell today from tomorrow.<br /> <br />So oft upon my couch I lie,<br />I surf, I chat, drink Bordeaux.<br />I melt into my glowing screen,<br />The real world turns to shadows.<br /> <br />Our digital selves are quite complete,<br />We post, we like, we follow.<br />We haven’t met and yet we’re friends,<br />You should know by now I'm shallow.Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-56580525590132967252010-08-23T21:19:00.005+08:002010-08-23T21:53:02.205+08:00Terribly bad, truly awful poemIt's <a href="http://zigzackly.blogspot.com/2010/08/grandson-of-godawful-poetry-fortnight.html">Godawful Poetry Fortnight </a> and this below is my contribution!
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<br /></div><div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">This poem wrote itself on the bus to work,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And then on the train back home.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It wrote itself while I was working hard </p> <p class="MsoNormal">at something else.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This poem skipped breakfast and lunch,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It drank three cups of coffee with sugar,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Followed by a slice of terribly sweet cake.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And it wouldn’t stop at that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This poem had a drink.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or two. In fact, it might’ve mixed it all up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Wine after beer, have no fear. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">This poem has no respect</p> <p class="MsoNormal">for sonnets, ballads and neat little rhymes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Police arrested this poem for insulting a couple of haikus.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This poem is lost because it prefers losing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This poem wants to learn old languages</p> <p class="MsoNormal">and ignore emerging markets.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This poem has made no investments.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It doesn’t want your money,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or your praise. This poem is so stupid.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It thinks it will survive in the real world.</p> <!--EndFragment--> </div>
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<br />Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-24975118644056166512010-02-27T19:36:00.003+08:002010-02-27T19:41:08.146+08:00Inventing placesI read The Shadow Lines by Amitav Ghosh and wanted to preserve this bit: " I could not persuade her that a place does not merely exist, that it has to be invented in one's imagination; that her practical, bustling London was no less invented than mine, neither more not less true, only very far apart. It was not her fault that she could not understand, for as Tridib often said of her, the inventions she lived in moved with her, so that although she had lived in many places, she had never travelled at all"Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-57535093313417135852010-01-17T15:00:00.004+08:002010-01-17T15:02:38.521+08:00On writing - Elizabeth Lowry in Granta 103<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; "><div>From an excerpt in my <a href="http://www.granta.com/Magazine/Granta-103/Witness">favourite literary magazine</a>: </div><div><br /></div> "There’s a sense in which writing is simply scar tissue, the attempt to create a meaningful self out of a compromised one, and in my case this damage was caused by the constant move from country to country, which made for radical instability. J.M. Coetzee once characterized South African literature in the era of apartheid as ‘a less than fully human literature, unnaturally preoccupied with power and the torsions of power’."</span>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-36039873571087231442009-11-02T20:45:00.013+08:002009-11-03T23:29:02.603+08:00Super Duper Blockbuster Thriller<div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYYFZfVZLSCt-zv55VU6Nv1ki2vaISuoIUC1Int4oYEMMEIyqBH_7id79hfe3ta8G6UboJFytIh00c3veqLuxM3z4pbOE2HwuogGHtcJYqVIWnHCv3dCyXoy348wTdn3l8tHRwM-4aLDE/s1600-h/IMG_0785.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYYFZfVZLSCt-zv55VU6Nv1ki2vaISuoIUC1Int4oYEMMEIyqBH_7id79hfe3ta8G6UboJFytIh00c3veqLuxM3z4pbOE2HwuogGHtcJYqVIWnHCv3dCyXoy348wTdn3l8tHRwM-4aLDE/s200/IMG_0785.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399517626083688786" style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK89X3vSsqq2YmuXcA1DpLM5xe2qy1845JQaavjQgsXGyhzTdZNLMko2yG4K-fzVaNaxGBO5Gji6iuCkLiGfwgsQ_IdA5wdYycD7LzeOyHM1-6JmKRhpScDQm4C0ebcLiSlG1seqXiPaib/s200/IMG_0787.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399516885957151922" style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCpZlrAIvM2ONnxcChClSH6rUaqWRwW3OP2teLfcRVTemGpDG1vQ2xHmEgGLXtfuOYPScDUAN56NNq2OFoZuB8uuRB_TxVZSWirG8tvbnCZgWqDVaNal85qkc58QaU71KNkWUgvRBEICJ/s200/IMG_0786.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399517273034264178" style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Super Duper Blockbuster Crime Thriller" -- these screaming superlatives usually advertise Tamil crime fiction stacked in tea stalls in Chennai. They may have well led to the formation of<a href="http://www.blaft.com/"> Blaft</a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> - an independent publishing firm in Chennai, started up by a mathematician and a fashion designer who thought it would be good to translate the books and find out what the hell they were about.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I met them both at ScRipt, a mini-feature of the Singapore Writers Festival -- providing a platform where emerging writers from South Asia could promote their work in Singapore.</span></span></span></div></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I went for a few sessions and they were great but the Blaft session stood out with its bizarre posters and tales straight out of some Coen Brothers' film.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Blafties translate pulp fiction in Indian languages to English as well as publish original fiction in English. They veer towards experimental fiction and what Rakesh Khanna (one of Blaft's founders) calls 'Irrealism.' </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Maybe its like surrealism, I don't know," he said. Kaveri Lalchand, who also makes clothes and acts in theatre and does all sorts of other things, talked about convincing </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surender_Mohan_Pathak"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Surender Mohan Pathak</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, a prolific Hindi crime fiction author, to let Blaft translate his work into English.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Rakesh and Kaveri tracked Pathak down to his house in Old Delhi and the man whose books have sold over 150,000 copies (each-see comment below!) in Hindi was understandably amused by their proposed print run of 5,000 copies. Still, they persisted and so their catalogue of books and translations keeps growing in direct proportion to their tenacity.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It's wonderful to see current, surreal or irreal work out of India exploiting the immense diversity of Indian languages. It was also just fun to hang out with people who are so passionate about what they do and do it alongside other full-time jobs. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-81264013513958371432009-10-25T13:35:00.004+08:002009-10-26T19:34:24.821+08:00We were never warned about heartbreak<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px; font-family:'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:14px;"><div>This is a line from Julian Barnes' brilliant new short story -- Complicity-- published in the October 19th issue of the New Yorker. My favourite bit is below but the whole story is <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2009/10/19/091019fi_fiction_barnes">here.</a></div><div>"I used the word “complicity” a bit ago. I like the word. To me, it indicates an unspoken understanding between two people, a kind of pre-sense, if you like. The first hint that you may be suited, before the nervous trudgery of finding out whether you “share the same interests,” or have the same metabolism, or are sexually compatible, or both want children, or however it is that we argue consciously about our unconscious decisions. Later, looking back, we will fetishize and celebrate the first date, the first kiss, the first holiday together, but what really counts is what happened before this public story: that moment, more of pulse than of thought, which goes, Yes, perhaps her, and Yes, perhaps him."</div></span>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-43459444881778153312009-10-25T13:26:00.008+08:002009-10-26T19:35:51.654+08:00The politics of Singlish<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqlo2Rw4Nxo9RlKAowwlQiGMx3BF_Dgp-LZwV_sNwJYTBNy8td5zfGV7C0i92Anwpsli79xpixrBY4CN7b3Pdg3z3FrT5uiAWjGza6vpAwVPhwZWM3aOhGjAf0Sq7PH75IcWUo0WOS3pq/s1600-h/IMG_0776.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqlo2Rw4Nxo9RlKAowwlQiGMx3BF_Dgp-LZwV_sNwJYTBNy8td5zfGV7C0i92Anwpsli79xpixrBY4CN7b3Pdg3z3FrT5uiAWjGza6vpAwVPhwZWM3aOhGjAf0Sq7PH75IcWUo0WOS3pq/s200/IMG_0776.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396414428928612738" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 19px; font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><p style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-transform: none; text-align: left; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Given that this week is dedicated to the Singapore Writers Festival, I read some poetry by Arthur Yap-- one of Singapore's foremost poets. I first encountered his work at the National Library when I moved to Singapore five years ago. I was looking for local poetry and literature, and his collection of poems -- The Space of City Trees-- struck a chord.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-transform: none; text-align: left; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I'm happy to post one of his poem here. It deals with the dilemmas inherent in the forging of postcolonial identities. There is also a great essay that analyses this poem and others like it in <a href="http://www.qlrs.com/essay.asp?id=543">QRLS -- the Quarterly Literary Review of Singapore</a>.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-transform: none; text-align: left; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-transform: none; text-align: left; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Correctness of Flavour -- <a href="http://www.sgwiki.com/wiki/Arthur_Yap">By Arthur Yap</a></span></p><p style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-transform: none; text-align: left; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">waiting for the lime sherbert to arrive,<br />mother turned around to her vacuous child:<br />boy, you heard what i said earlier?<br />nowadays, they emphasise english.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-transform: none; text-align: left; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">boy rolled his squinty eyes to the ceiling.<br />waitress returned, flustered, and started<br />on her own emphases:<br />lime sherbert today don't have.<br />mango got. strawberry also don't have.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-transform: none; text-align: left; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">mother, upset and acutely strident:<br />today DOESN'T have.<br />today DOES NOT have</span></p></span><p></p></span>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-4005602788240955282009-10-24T17:06:00.010+08:002009-10-24T23:09:14.439+08:00Singapore Writers Festival<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAMxcQiCkWL6NhEaQq6YMiptUTM-pgMZjMQxZQoj3zvXbojEMfVQYUzzl4QUkxMlaceQwpzlhHR3Ry5fe8MkGZrrPeuviepbcANktciU9lfI_vP6RG7S59mwkv8ldpEz5DoV2xm6zzPqtW/s1600-h/IMG_0774.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAMxcQiCkWL6NhEaQq6YMiptUTM-pgMZjMQxZQoj3zvXbojEMfVQYUzzl4QUkxMlaceQwpzlhHR3Ry5fe8MkGZrrPeuviepbcANktciU9lfI_vP6RG7S59mwkv8ldpEz5DoV2xm6zzPqtW/s200/IMG_0774.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396182447745934306" /></a><a href="http://www.singaporewritersfestival.com/">The Singapore Writers Festival </a>started yesterday and is on till November 1. Workshops and conversations are happening all week at The Arts House -- one of my favourite buildings in Singapore. This is a multidisciplinary literary festival, featuring some 120 writers from 22 countries and over 170 programmes.<div><br /><div>Today I saw O Thiam Chin, a young Singaporean author, talk about his book of short stories, 'Never Been Better' -- published by MPH. </div><div><br /><div>"I don't always go for the big dramatic moments. I'm much more interested in the small and subtle moments of realisation that people have," he said. </div><div><br /></div><div>When asked why he had not thought of looking for international publishers for his book, Thiam Chin said that he had chosen to be a small fish swimming in a small pond. "I'm not sure I was up to international standards. I wanted to look for local publishers first as my stories also had a local flavour," he said. He spoke of his dreams of getting published in The New Yorker some day. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a nice little session -- and I was glad to have attended it. I plan to walk around and attend free sessions over the next few days. And of course, I'll record impressions and conversations that stay with me and post them here. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's a picture I like -- of Thiam Chin autographing his book.</div><div><br /><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtpYogpVs_yJ8hj9ZE7Bhj0Yv5K_U7e_hJ3HNX8DKZNfKMFi73tY_u7BfcPGrEuvoVSHz3s9m3u4zQobFxT75zCUZT8KWHDh8l7VCHqSjqbWLi1SBhbxsoqOVJEE9jFEhtdAigdCKyIgVu/s200/IMG_0770.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396178442914570210" /></div></div></div></div>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-47394939935469240812009-10-11T23:07:00.000+08:002009-10-22T23:09:23.931+08:00Our band gets a reviewIt's always fun to perform. It's even better to get a <a href="http://wakingupto.wordpress.com/2009/10/09/keeping-it-peel/">review</a> !Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-63141126748471234672009-09-30T23:15:00.001+08:002009-10-22T23:22:20.474+08:00Where synthetic biology may lead us...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Michael Specter is probably one of my favourite science writers. He has written a fascinating piece on </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><a href="http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/09/28/090928fa_fact_specter">synthetic biology</a> in this week's issue of the New Yorker</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">. It's fairly futuristic and it seems like this will be a field to watch. I quote from the article below -- a taste of things to come!</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"No scientific achievement has promised so much, and none has come with greater risks or clearer possibilities for deliberate abuse. The benefits of new technologies—from genetically engineered food to the wonders of pharmaceuticals—often have been oversold. If the tools of synthetic biology succeed, though, they could turn specialized molecules into tiny, self-contained factories, creating cheap drugs, clean fuels, and new organisms to siphon carbon dioxide from the atmosphere."</span></span></span></div>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-419411123959916072009-09-05T19:52:00.002+08:002009-09-05T19:58:37.378+08:00It is not knowledge we lackI've been in the grip of Sven Lindqvist's book on European barbarism. It's called 'Exterminate All The Brutes' and is a terrible, wrenching account of imperialism and racism through the centuries. He ends the book with this paragraph that I think is broadly applicable to life.<div><br /></div><div>"You already know enough. So do I. It is not knowledge we lack. What is missing is the courage to understand what we know and draw conclusions."</div>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-26082606413941708242009-08-10T21:43:00.001+08:002009-08-10T21:44:31.350+08:00Eugene sent me a memory in the mail<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Courier, monospace; font-size: 14px; "><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(222, 112, 8); font: normal normal bold 113%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -1px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.eugenetong.net/2009/08/traces.html" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); ">Traces of Gorm</a></span></span></h3><div>By Eugene Tong</div><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(222, 112, 8); font: normal normal bold 113%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -1px; "><br /></h3><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="post-header-line-1"></div><div class="post-body entry-content"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhli4rOZiPX5o_RdCPtMbDS_iUzE24Lt0_X9AS6medM9ZI45xMu2fRVWlGNkfMkUeGP2dVQ5SLJ8U8AKdfqgP7NIeQDZjadejWDhWMpL2f-OJCT1llz2RBRg3C3XtIaFqgFk8Z8h2H8_2I/s1600-h/shelf_master.jpg" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhli4rOZiPX5o_RdCPtMbDS_iUzE24Lt0_X9AS6medM9ZI45xMu2fRVWlGNkfMkUeGP2dVQ5SLJ8U8AKdfqgP7NIeQDZjadejWDhWMpL2f-OJCT1llz2RBRg3C3XtIaFqgFk8Z8h2H8_2I/s200/shelf_master.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365628194157631218" style="border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Goodbye </span></span><a href="http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/30058508" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Gorm</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.<br /><br />Thank you for your service these past eight years. Time and again, you held your load and offer uplift to baby pictures, bric-a-back, stuffed toys, a sword, cookbooks and photo albums and DVDs; offered shelter to Buddha and my shoes and stood firm against the wall through earthquakes and other rumblings.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzbIKY-GuWe7HoG8FfweWDzhcT_XfFWQLWUR0Uo4eXo8NFbtAfmVoDkM5FZUQZbnityXEBuotg7VKpmNwvPDmVytt0OxVw4s3kpV-O_56PcfrpRxO1wHaxdlyRaKjuoARrbSpZlAG-BI/s1600-h/shelf_detail1.jpg" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzbIKY-GuWe7HoG8FfweWDzhcT_XfFWQLWUR0Uo4eXo8NFbtAfmVoDkM5FZUQZbnityXEBuotg7VKpmNwvPDmVytt0OxVw4s3kpV-O_56PcfrpRxO1wHaxdlyRaKjuoARrbSpZlAG-BI/s200/shelf_detail1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365637824035114786" style="border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />I brought you, feverish rantings and all, to my Koreatown apartment from Reportergirl's Exposition Park bedroom when said reporter moved back home. You were sorely needed then to bring order to the piles of papers and videotapes leaning against the wall on the floor in my one-bedroom abode.<br /><br />You were there for about six to eight months, until a new job led us to </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_Hollywood,_Los_Angeles,_California" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">North Hollywood</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, a large one-bedroom with a formal dining room in a 1950s vintage 2nd floor walk-up.<br /><br />*</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKc1bKyZ8-sTGcdkikqzb9hafxdTsua8JbjeqsYpCsDYhXnOg_6sUAq6maLxy_TdczKe6TtrlNME09m1x4E1JSTsWBHLYaKvBiku8cevZesv1LcehElg9gkIovjpHhh90C0UoBYfRT3g/s1600-h/shelf_detail2.jpg" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKc1bKyZ8-sTGcdkikqzb9hafxdTsua8JbjeqsYpCsDYhXnOg_6sUAq6maLxy_TdczKe6TtrlNME09m1x4E1JSTsWBHLYaKvBiku8cevZesv1LcehElg9gkIovjpHhh90C0UoBYfRT3g/s200/shelf_detail2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365637363038174914" style="border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />*BLAH BLEA<br />BLEAUGH<br /><br />It was there that I decided to once and for all correct your structural deficiency and complete you. For you see, reportergirl neglected to install metal crossbars on your back -- a pair of aluminum rods -- so you won't tip over.<br /><br />You stood tall and firm (with metal reinforcement) on the corner with the Buddha altar on your top shelf watching over the living room, next the an Ikea floor lamp rescued from another friend departing L.A.<br /><br />I lasted all of six months there. Though apparently aesthetically pleasing with the right crowd and located in an up-and-coming artsy neighborhood in the shadow of Universial Studios, the apartment had one fatal flaw -- it gets HOT AS HELL.<br /><br />I'm talking 90 degrees plus (32 C) INSIDE, when the temperature outside is in the low-80s (27 C). I would spend at least two hours each night after getting home trying to cool the place with an aging window air conditioner and two large box fans.<br /><br />Screw vintage. I want a place built in the last 20 years with central air con and heating, and well-insulated so it's cool in the summer and warm in the winter.<br /><br />I found it in </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pasadena,_California" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pasadena</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> -- a three bedroom townhouse with a little patch of backyard between the </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interstate_210_and_State_Route_210_(California)" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">210 Freeway</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and an alley.<br /><br />I lived there for seven years, and quite happily for at least six of those. But alas, with a career change and relocating back to the San Francisco Bay Area, I must put said home on the market (and in this market!).<br /><br />And I can't take you with me.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPAw_f6qS_65jseBDTF_29F0ogv2htQ6Jg9EFLh2EjkePkjYbqeUok7Kr0rxbyxlYCvarr7p3HZRUDCMv9NiRY3O7HgWaQnYB3KJNMc5Aj1AUIUX8Wm-qn2hk7x1YxcoZfA9Scb1ntRo/s1600-h/shelf_detail3.jpg" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPAw_f6qS_65jseBDTF_29F0ogv2htQ6Jg9EFLh2EjkePkjYbqeUok7Kr0rxbyxlYCvarr7p3HZRUDCMv9NiRY3O7HgWaQnYB3KJNMc5Aj1AUIUX8Wm-qn2hk7x1YxcoZfA9Scb1ntRo/s200/shelf_detail3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365637185857119186" style="border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />I hope the </span></span><a href="http://www.satruck.org/" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Salvation Army of Pasadena</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> can find you a good home, or return you to the earth from whence you came.</span></span></div></span>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-89818094033700419702009-08-01T23:17:00.002+08:002009-08-01T23:20:46.267+08:00Eugene goes to see Miyazaki<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Courier, monospace; font-size: 14px; "><div class="post hentry" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; "><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal bold 113%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -1px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By Eugene Tong</span></span></h3><div><br /></div><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(222, 112, 8); font: normal normal bold 113%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -1px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.eugenetong.net/2009/07/hayao-miyazaki-live.html" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); ">Hayao Miyazaki Live</a></span></span></h3><div class="post-header-line-1"></div><div class="post-body entry-content"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anime and manga legend </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hayao_Miyazaki" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hayao Miyazaki</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in </span></span><a href="http://ieas.berkeley.edu/cjs/miyazaki.html" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">conversation</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. July 25, 2009.<br />Location: Zellerbach Hall, UC Berkeley.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs200.snc1/6769_127138301097_623596097_3109440_3617218_n.jpg" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><img src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs200.snc1/6769_127138301097_623596097_3109440_3617218_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 227px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />The legendary animator takes the stage -- to a standing ovation, of course.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs200.snc1/6769_127138306097_623596097_3109441_1827580_n.jpg" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><img src="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs200.snc1/6769_127138306097_623596097_3109441_1827580_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 227px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />To the left: Roland Kelts (Tokyo University lecturer and author of</span></span><a href="http://www.japanamericabook.com/" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Japanamerica</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">) asking the questions. To his right, the translator, Beth something...<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs200.snc1/6769_127138311097_623596097_3109442_3253178_n.jpg" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><img src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs200.snc1/6769_127138311097_623596097_3109442_3253178_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 227px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Topics discussed:<br /><br />-- Apocalypse as a theme in his films (he once thought the end of the world would happen in his lifetime, but at his age (68), that's not likely now...laughs).<br /><br />-- With our interactions increasingly virtual, is that a bad thing? (It's all relative...)<br /><br />-- Where does he go to find inspiration? (Walks near his house...)<br /><br />-- He's told his wife as far back as </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nausica%C3%A4_of_the_Valley_of_the_Wind_(film)" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nausicaa of the Valley of Win</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">d (1984) that it would be his last film, due to the amount of work involved. Twenty-five years and eight more films later, he doesn't say that much, at least at home.<br /><br />-- Making an animated film becomes so involving that when it's complete, he doesn't want to watch them again.<br /><br />-- Which is his favorite among his films? Well, each film is like his child, and if you have eight children, you can't say you love one more than the others!<br /><br />-- How do you think audiences will view his films 50 years from now? (He makes films grandmothers want to show their grand kids, rather than films mothers would take their kids.)<br /><br />-- Why the tendency for strong girls as protagonists in your films? (Well, of the current crop of 20 or so animators he's hired and is training for his Studio Ghibli, only one is a man. Maybe I have to start making films with strong boy characters.)<br /><br />-- There are rarely any truly evil bad guys in his films...(He doesn't want to have to draw that; and reality is never as simple as all good or all bad.)<br /><br />-- On expressive eyes: In </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Neighbor_Totoro" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My Neighbor Totoro</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, he wanted his artists to draw Totoro's eyes so that you can't tell whether it's intelligent or not. As for the insect Ohmu from Nausicaa, you really have no clue with so many eyes.<br /><br />-- His advice to young animators and artists: Draw everything around you for inspiration.<br /><br />-- Some animators he considers contemporaries: Pixar's </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Lasseter" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">John Lasseter</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nick_Park" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nick Park</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> of Aardman Animation.<br /><br />-- On true love in his films: It has to be earned after the overcoming obstacles (and he speculates things will be tough for Sosuke and Ponyo after the movie's (</span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ponyo_on_the_Cliff_by_the_Sea" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">)over...).<br /><br />-- On overcoming writer's block: When he gets stuck he would concentrate so hard that his nose bleed...<br /><br />-- On the Japanese government viewing Anime and Manga as "soft-power": Well, the government won't be around much longer (laughs)! But his films are mostly intended for Japanese audiences. The fact that they've found an audience outside of Japan is just a bonus.<br /><br />(ED: Japanese PM </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taro_Aso" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Taro Aso</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> called for new Diet elections due to low approval ratings.)<br /><br />-- What lies ahead? He doesn't think about the future...<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs200.snc1/6769_127138316097_623596097_3109443_2552174_n.jpg" style="color: rgb(222, 112, 8); "><img src="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs200.snc1/6769_127138316097_623596097_3109443_2552174_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 227px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />As with any chat that relies on a translator, there's an unpleasant lag between his answer in Japanese and the English translation for us non-speakers.<br /><br />The questions from Kelts were thoughtful, despite early on focusing too much on Miyazaki's latest film Ponyo, which I haven't seen. Some tough questions drew a few good humor groans from the filmmaker.<br /><br />Still, Kelts sometimes made the mistake of asking questions with long prefaces, which may have elicited some off-topic answers from Miyazaki. Always keep it short and tight, then shut up and let the subject talk.<br /><br />Miyazaki often answer questions indirectly -- maybe it's a cultural thing, or he's trying to be diplomatic. And I'm sure some of his answers got lost in translation too. In the end, he revealed himself a thoughtful, tough-but-fair minded visionary artist who can have a sense of humor about his work.<br /><br />After the event, a group of autograph hounds (myself included) gathered by the stage entrance waiting for the man the emerge. He did about a half hour later and posed for a few photos, but declined to sign anything.</span></span><div style="clear: both; "></div></div><div class="post-footer" style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-size: 11px; "><div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-3"></div></div></div></span>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-70364979710331458732009-07-26T10:42:00.000+08:002009-07-26T10:43:28.080+08:00Why read poetry?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> "Poetry connects us with our deep roots, our evolution as an animal that evolved rhythmic language as a means of transmitting vital information across the generations. We need the comfort and stimulation that this vital part of us gets from the ancient art."--Robert Pinsky</span></span>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-57253272844042459092009-07-26T10:22:00.003+08:002009-07-26T10:37:26.843+08:00We Real Cool<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I love this ballad by Gwendolyn Brooks. It has a sad, sweet recklessness that grips me ever so often. I'm usually a sensible and measured sort right up until I'm not. There are days when I want to drive off the cliff that is the balance between emotion and intellect, just to see the crash. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I found this poem in a book called 'The Making of a Poem' -- a Norton anthology of poetic forms. It's a wonderful book for any aspiring poet because it explains the importance of form and illustrates with examples. For those of you who care, a ballad is apparently a short narrative usually arranged in four-line stanzas with a distinctive and memorable meter.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We Real Cool</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; "><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(THE POOL PLAYERS. SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL.)</span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We real cool.</span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> We Left school. </span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We Lurk late. </span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We Strike straight. </span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We Sing sin. </span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We Thin gin. </span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We Jazz June. </span></span></pre><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We Die soon. </span></span></pre><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div></span></div>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-12146532263990374652009-07-21T08:00:00.005+08:002009-07-21T08:09:40.451+08:00The morning hours<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrPzNzmkX879FTcRnYvCcnJnFyPYY6zYBqpEgprbG-i0T7el-CrDal84l_4mDqsvmvwlgzVQElJsiZk4P_WhpvcYo8ZPdJo3b6cOUvJu4VFMr4JhxyZj2dqfD3C5w-w4uLCWT4mgVWvZs/s1600-h/IMG_0350.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrPzNzmkX879FTcRnYvCcnJnFyPYY6zYBqpEgprbG-i0T7el-CrDal84l_4mDqsvmvwlgzVQElJsiZk4P_WhpvcYo8ZPdJo3b6cOUvJu4VFMr4JhxyZj2dqfD3C5w-w4uLCWT4mgVWvZs/s200/IMG_0350.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360698779034514562" /></a>Eugene said he couldn't afford the luxury of introspection yesterday. He had many things to do so he'll be here later in the week. <div>As for me, I woke up pretty early today and enjoyed the dark quietness till the cats decided to start pawing around and mewing like babies. I'm re-reading Slaughterhouse 5 and its a little scary that I remember nothing. I might as well be reading it for the first time. I love how it begins: "All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really was shot in Dresden for taking a teapot that wasn't his. Another guy I knew really did threaten to have his personal enemies killed by hired gunmen after the war. And so on. I've changed all the names."</div>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277786177598225035.post-29571917328090803282009-07-17T21:01:00.006+08:002009-07-17T21:38:41.421+08:00Please press the button for the desired floor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBhO1JKiAVM7_Mb1YAKif1p6Y9OR0h3NNt5Uyp_9WOSD9X1RECkZInYaKbxVeGB71nNqSzWOtsWHchER-v6D7Pl5l_i1cOsotPRkzIaQzcIl2qK1o0a6YvU_zgup-T9i-QNx_LBWrWBTJ8/s1600-h/IMG_0452.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBhO1JKiAVM7_Mb1YAKif1p6Y9OR0h3NNt5Uyp_9WOSD9X1RECkZInYaKbxVeGB71nNqSzWOtsWHchER-v6D7Pl5l_i1cOsotPRkzIaQzcIl2qK1o0a6YvU_zgup-T9i-QNx_LBWrWBTJ8/s320/IMG_0452.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359415135269215346" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, -webkit-fantasy; ">This little circle of light on number one makes me very happy on Fridays. Reportergirl has left the building.</span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I worked hard this week and pretty well I thought. Found a new tasks bar on gmail which is so handy for keeping track of things I have to do...Oh the joy when I struck off the last task on the list! I'm looking forward to a peaceful weekend</span></span></div></div>Reportergirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02624085506496825387noreply@blogger.com0