Tuesday, July 14, 2009

God help us.


Cats Use Special Purr to Manipulate Humans
Jennifer Viegas, Discovery News

July 13, 2009 -- Cat owners who think their cats control them now have some scientific confirmation: Animal vocalization experts have just identified a special manipulative purr that felines have evolved, in part, to get what they want from people.

... Cats purr to each other, but the scientists found felines really exaggerate their solicitation purring when communicating with humans, making felines near impossible to ignore.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Something new

Because I frequently see things that I'd like to remember, and because I have a memory that's just as useful as a soggy box of matches, I'm starting a new blog to collect all the pretty pictures I like. Behold:


Pause. Stop. Play.


As if I needed another thing to waste my time on.

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Thursday, July 09, 2009

Hero for the Day

Delicious.

Came across this lovely post in the comments section of the article about Thio Li-ann at Inside Higher Ed:

An Open Letter to Dr. Thio Li-Ann
Posted by Jim McCurley , Class of 2010 at NYU Law on July 8, 2009 at 2:15pm EDT

I read your recent e-mail interview with Inside Higher Ed with some interest. It seems that you may be a little concerned about what awaits you at NYU this fall. As a gay person and a law student, I wanted to take the opportunity to reassure you and to welcome you to the university. I’m not sure if you’ve been to New York before, but I gather from your CV that you got a quite a fine education in the UK. Because of a few phrases you used in the interview, it occurred to me that you may not be familiar with some peculiarities of American English and I want to point out a few that may come in handy. First, we call chips “french fries” and crisps “chips.” Second, we generally call Members of Parliament “elites” and law students, well, “law students.” We don’t really use the word “diktat” a whole lot.

New York being New York, you may also find a few Yiddish words to be useful. Foremost among these is “chutzpah.” “Chutzpah” is hard to translate directly and its meaning is perhaps best illustrated by example. New Yorkers would say that a former NMP and graduate of Cambridge and Oxford who denounces gays in a rather vulgar manner on the floor of Parliament in a successful bid to enable their imprisonment calling the highlighting of her remarks by a few law students “ugly politicking” based on “their own prejudices, from whatever sources” has a lot of chutzpah.

Now, having grown up in a farming village in Kentucky and spent a number of years in the enlisted ranks of the Army, I share your distaste for both “ugly politicking” and “elite diktat.” As I’ve been called a “faggot” and been beaten up a few times, I don’t care much for “bullying” either, although I’m not sure having one of one’s own Parliamentary speeches circulated really qualifies as such. This may be yet another peculiarity of American English

You are quite correct, however, that in the face of bullying, one must have courage. It also helps to have supportive gay friends. One of the nice things about gay folks is that we tend not to belong to either the “liberal camp” or “communitarian camp” which you described in your speech. We’re just into camp. Likewise, the gays at NYU don’t by any means have a problem with you, your right to your views, or academic freedom. We just don’t think that state power to imprison or discriminate against sexual, racial, or other minorities is a particularly “academic” question. Again, that’s American English for you

Another generally appreciated feature of the gays is our sense of taste, which has been highlighted in television shows like “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.” You are a bit mistaken if you think that the gays at NYU want to censor you. It’s just that, like mixing polka dots with plaid or having George Wallace teach a course on civil rights in the American South, we tend to think NYU’s hiring you to teach a class called “Human Rights in Asia” demonstrates a lack of taste.

Dr. Thio, if you’ll have me, I’d like to be your supportive gay friend. We can have lunch, dish about men and listen to music together. I know a great tapas place in Greenwich Village and, as an American, I’d like to disabuse you of the notion that I have any interest in “refus[ing] to engage with dissenting views” or directing “intolerant animosity” at you. There are also a few great American songs I’d love to introduce you to. One of my favorites is called “Cry Me a River.” It was written by Arthur Hamilton.

I must make one friendly request before I let you go, however. We American gays are doing fairly well post-Lawrence v. Texas. Unlike our Singaporean brethren, we can’t be arbitrarily thrown into prison and can generally defend ourselves under the law. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for our friends, the straw men. From “human right to sodomy” to “Americans … appropriating the rhetoric of human rights … [to] impose their views on a sovereign state,” you’ve spent a good deal of time knocking them down. Last I checked, they hadn’t done anything to you, so why not go a bit easier on them?

All the best,

Jim McCurley
NYU Law Class of 2010

Straight out of Sunnydale

Would you pledge your soul as loan collateral?

RIGA (Reuters) – Ready to give your soul for a loan in these difficult economic times? In Latvia, where the crisis has raged more than in the rest of the European Union, you can.

Such a deal is being offered by the Kontora loan company, whose public face is Viktor Mirosiichenko, 34.

Clients have to sign a contract, with the words "Agreement" in bold letters at the top. The client agrees to the collateral, "that is, my immortal soul."

Mirosiichenko said his company would not employ debt collectors to get its money back if people refused to repay, and promised no physical violence. Signatories only have to give their first name and do not show any documents.

"If they don't give it back, what can you do? They won't have a soul, that's all," he told Reuters in a basement office, with one desk, a computer and three chairs.

Wearing sunglasses, a black suit and a white shirt with the words "Kontora" (office) emblazoned on it, he reaches into his pocket and lays out a sheaf of notes on the table to show that the business is serious and not a joke.

Latvia has been the EU nation worst hit by economic crisis.

Unemployment is soaring and banks have sharply reduced their lending, meaning that small companies offering easy loans in small amounts have become more popular.

Mirosiichenko said his company was basically trusting people to repay the small amounts they borrowed, which has so far been up to 250 lats ($500) for between 1 and 90 days at a hefty interest rate.

He said about 200 people had taken out loans over the two months the business was in operation.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

"Thank you, logic boy. Did I mention this is a rant? Sense really has no place in it."

- Buffy in Real Me, Season 5, BTVS


It is my ultimate wish that I will find some way to insert the phrase "logic boy" into regular conversation tomorrow.

Fraying at the edges, but its just mainly nerves and the unavoidable stress of new responsibilities and new experiences. Thank god for my friends. I don't have many, and none of them are here with me in this country, but the few I have make up for it in quality. I'm not joking when I say I need them -- I could not possibly hold myself together without them. Even having imaginary conversations with them in my head helps -- a poor substitute for the real thing but it's better than nothing during those moments when you're gripping the seat of your chair trying to convince yourself it would be a very, very bad idea to raise your voice.

Monday, July 06, 2009

Like a Hundred Billion Hotdogs


I lie in an early bed, thinking late thoughts
Waiting for the black to replace my blue
I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught
But daddy longlegs, I feel that I'm finally growing weary
Of waiting to be consumed by you

Give me the first taste, let it begin heaven cannot wait
Forever
Darling, just start the chase - Ill let you win but you must
Make the endeavor

Oh, your love give me a heart contusion
Adagio breezes fill my skin with sudden red
Your hungry flirt borders intrusion
Im building memories on things we have not said
Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly my love, not nearly my love, not
Nearly

Give me the first taste, let it begin heaven cannot wait
Forever
Darling, just start the chase - Ill let you win, but you must
Make the endeavor

- The First Taste, Tidal, Fiona Apple


Generally don't discuss my taste in music (old blog entries with angst-filled NIN lyrics don't count) because those discussions always end badly and seems to serve no function other than to bolster my sense of un-awesomness.

But this song has been in my head for days, and it makes me feel all kinds of awesome.

And I say that using the original version of the word 'awesome'. I will never be able to use this word again without thinking about Eddie Izzard gasping at the sight of a hotdog.


Thursday, July 02, 2009

Listened to a lot of MJ at work in office yesterday which was made me feel rather nostalgic -- thinking of the long family trips to KL and back in my father's old, rundown Datsun 100A, and the time when we were caught in the jam at the Causeway in the pouring rain, trying in vain to stop the rainwater leaking into the car's interior, as the whole family sang along to MJ's Dangerous album. We had one cassette tape, which we played on loop endlessly throughout the journey. This way, even before I was 10 years old, I knew the lyrics to the whole bloody album.

Down and out with the flu, but it could just be general stress and fatigue. The weather's is not helping either, alternating between chilly breezes with light rain and a humid, steamy heat.

On the plus side, I called someone a coward to his face and it felt good.

Monday, June 29, 2009

After weeks of gazing longingly at the sky, willing for the rain to come to end my humid misery, I am unbearably happy that the monsoon seems to have finally started. Two girls on the opposite rooftop are dancing in the rain, one still with her toothbrush in her mouth. Sweet.

It has been slightly unnerving for me the last few weeks, constantly sidestepping office-politics minefields and trying my best not to lose my temper. I have decided that a fake smile is really not worth the effort or energy, and I am not inclined to take it upon myself to create a false sense of harmony just so we can pretend to be the best of friends.

This is obviously a problematic decision as it offends the supposedly Asian thing about "saving face". Oh well. At the very least, I won't be accused of putting up a false front.

I happily blame my father for passing on this gene to me.

Thursday, June 25, 2009



From Dan's blog on The Slog. Click!

Monday, June 15, 2009

There's that clip at the end of every Buffy episode that goes "Grr. Arrgh."

I think its unhealthy how often that sound clip plays in my head -- it comes up every time I get pissed off, frustrated, angry, irritated or upset -- which pretty much covers every single waking moment I have, so... Grrr. Arrgh.

Sunday, June 07, 2009

My guilty pleasure of the week was a five-hour long marathon viewing of Pride and Prejudice -- the BBC series with Colin Firth, not the Hollywood remake.

Do you know what five hours of a Jane Austen movie will do to you? Especially if you have it on DVD -- which mean no one can stop you from rewinding/rewatching/replaying the infamous Mr Darcy pond scene again and again until you finally give in to just how tragic you are and force yourself to switch the damn thing off.

Anyway.

Bandarban

A few more random pictures from Bandarban. There was a village fair, involving live music and a lot of dancing.

Bandarban

I've been trying to find out the correct name for this contest, but Google is being very unhelpful. Young groups of men compete to scale up a bamboo pole, which has been smeared with some kind of greasy goo. It was very, erm, masculine.

Bandarban

Baby goats! Oh hello!

I've retold this story a thousand times -- about how I didn't know that goats were affectionate by nature. I always thought them to be rather aloof, you know, like how chickens are. But I found out I was wrong when the goat tied up in the carpark downstairs nestled up to me and rested its head in the crook of my arm.

It would've been the start of a beautiful friendship, if not for the fact that it was Bloody Eid the next day and I think Kirsty mentioned something about not making friends with other people's lunch.

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Thursday, June 04, 2009

"I still rem eating some chocolate biscuits which i fell in love with, at ur place prolly more than a decade back."


It took a fair bit of sleuthing around (ok fine, five minutes on chat with a mutual friend) before I finally figured out who the mystery new friend on FB was. The real name rang a bell, but I'm still not entirely sure if I have the right one.

I attended the CHIJ Punggol, which has since been renamed to a much longer, fancier name. The 'Punggol' aspect of it was always a source of great mirth for my classmates in secondary school, who teased me about pig farms and kampongs. I'd always felt very defensive.

It was a fabulously old school, and I feel a connection with it that I never did for my subsequent educational institutions. There was something so comforting about it, about how small and run-down it all was. I remember lying beneath the heavy curtains on the stage in the hall, swaying the cloth over me and thinking it looked like a huge manta ray coming towards me.

I had forgotten tomorrow was a Friday till about an hour ago, and I think that knowledge gave me a little breathing room before the work week starts again. Its rare for my over-thinking brain to get so caught up in the day-to-day chores that I don't find the to sit and think -- but I guess it's just been a crazy couple of weeks.

Tonight I really just wanted an old friend to talk to, but I think it'll be a little while before I enjoy such a privilege again.

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Rawr

Bandarban

BandarbanBandarban

BandarbanBandarban

Bandarban


I guess I've always liked it when children don't let me get away with things, or when they talk to me like I'm dumb, or when they look at me with that look -- you know, that look that surrenders nothing to the camera.


Bandarban

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The other life

Sometimes I forget there are people who get to wake up to this every morning.

Bandarban

Bandarban

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Bandarban

The first two days, I found myself constantly feeling impatient at the so-called "slower" pace of life. By the third day, I found out that doing nothing was absolutely, utterly enjoyable. Why yes, I'd like nothing more than to sit here and stare at the scenery all day.

Bandarban


Bandarban


Bandarban


Bandarban

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Friday, May 29, 2009

Like.



LONDON—A couple in Hyde Park, 1974.
© Richard Kalvar / Magnum Photos



In recognition of Older Americans Month, Magnum honors the elderly.

Produced by Zena Koo

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Wednesday, May 27, 2009

And on the 5th Day

Haven't quite made it to the one week mark of (unofficially) running a photo agency, and after a series of long distance calls trying to make amends, and a lot of waiting in front of the laptop for reply emails to see just how much I fucked up, I'm seriously exhausted today. But I'm surprising myself by enjoying the experience so immensely, and although I can foresee plenty of sleepless nights and painful mistakes ahead, it doesn't fill me with dread at all. Which I suppose, can only be a good thing.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Jazz Republic

I was rather put off by the title of the article, but I'm glad I gave it a go anyway -- the writer perfectly sums up my own opinion of Bangladesh. Of course, he is writing about India, but I suppose South Asia never gets very far away from itself.

Will India Lose Its Charm as It Becomes ‘World Class’?

By ANAND GIRIDHARADAS

... India has long been a jazz republic, functioning without a written score. People involve themselves in each other’s lives without regard to propriety or privacy. They insist on feeding you even when you want nothing. They insist on paying a price other than the price listed.

They pack as many cars onto a road as possible, without regard to the painted lanes. They pay as little tax as they can get away with.

If you call Domino’s after closing time, you can sometimes cajole them to reopen and deliver a pizza anyway. Everything is a negotiation; everything is improvised. Things are a “no” in India until they are a “yes.”

Anand goes on to say that India is changing. Modernity is eroding its charm.

And yet now when I visit America, where I grew up until moving to India six years ago, I wonder if this is where India is bound: a society that is fairer and more ordered, but in which something of the warmth of improvisation is gone.

Although he refers to America, the last sentence seems to me a pretty accurate characterisation
of Singapore.

During my trip back, I was taking pictures for my brother in Victoria Theatre. He was taking part in a national competition, and I had photographed his events in the past when they were held at less prestigious locations.

When it was his turn, I left my place in the aisle alongside other photographers to go crouch in front of the stage, next to a 'official' event photographer, taking care to keep low so as not to block anyone's view.

I barely began clicking before a woman -- the theatre security -- came up and spoke to me in a tone which I thought would be more apt used on a terrorist trying to hide a bomb under a stage. She growled that I was not allowed there and that I had to leave. Immediately. Security concerns. I must have been living in Bangladesh for too long, because I turned to her to explain: I only needed a few minutes, I was blocking no one, and it was my brother up there.

What was I thinking, trying to negotiate with her? Our society seldom allows for exceptions. You think you're so different? That you should get special treatment? That we will bend the rules for you? You've been misinformed.

But I suppose it was a habit I had picked up. In Bangladesh, your access is determined by your determination, your ability to convince, persuade and lie. As the writer put so succinctly, its a 'no' until its a 'yes'. It's survival of the fittest, and here I don't begrudge others for getting ahead of me because they were smart enough to do so. I don't think -- not fair! He broke the rules! I think, fuck! Why didn't I think of that?

In a way, I've been so spoilt by Bangladesh, where a smile and an explanation lets me get away with just about anything.

We don't allow for this in Singapore, and lest anyone think I am criticising the existence of our myraid of rules, I'm not. I can understand that the same charming system that lets me get away with photographing anywhere is the same system that allows for inefficiency and corruption.

The security woman wasn't persuaded, of course, and continued to growl at me. After a while, I got so irritated I snapped at her and said loudly, "My god! Give me a break!" Then she said there were more security personnel coming to remove me. Well, my brother's segment was over, and I left -- to collective relief.

On the last night before I was due to fly back, we had dinner with my uncle and his family at the nearby foodcourt in Hougang Mall. I had with me one of those small video cameras to record the antics of my two young cousins.

I had forgotten the sacred rule of never photographing/videoing indoors, and was taken aback when the manager suddenly appeared out of no where, putting her hands to block the video lens. We were in front of the drinks stall, and I had been videoing Reuben talking general gibberish.

"You CANNOT take video in here!" she said, as she forcibly lowered my camera.

In both of these incidents, it wasn't so much the request that shocked me. Both of these women were just doing their jobs and it is their right to tell me to stop photographing/videoing.

It was their tone, and the way they spoke to me, that left me slightly dumbfounded. Their ferocity, anger and aggression made me feel like such an utter criminal, like I had been caught setting fire to the place. Well trained. If I were a terrorist I'd be shit scared.

Anand writes about how the 'modernity' and its rules have changed Indian society.

But one senses something robotic at work, cutting between what are, at the day’s end, just two human beings.

And yet, with India as the foil, one can see a deeper meaning in the brusqueness and coldness. So much of this behavior seems intended to draw a red line of dignity around the individual, to declare to the world that she is somebody whom no one can push around, that no one is better than anyone else.

But which is more real, this cold dignity or India’s warm servility?

And one wonders whether, as modernity comes, India will lose a certain warmth, a certain tender involvement of everyone in everyone. Is the warmth that lingers just a product of this stage of history, residually feudal and agrarian and poor, a stage from which India will eventually move on?

It seems undoubtedly so. And I particularly loved his last line.

Is destiny the barriers between us?

This, I'm not so sure. Perhaps, the barriers that exist between people can be removed by the people themselves. It does make it all that difficult to connect with one another, to break the ice of initial hostility, but it doesn't make it impossible.

After both incidents, I talked to the women after putting away my offending equipment. We laughed together, and we apologised to each other. So sorry about it, just doing my job, they said. I'm sorry too, I said, for having been so difficult.

I guess, a smile goes a long way in Singapore too.

Friday, May 22, 2009

I've had the privilege of spending two long afternoons talking to a photo curator from India, a woman who I find difficult to describe, although the first word that springs to mind would be indefatigable.

Its always good to refresh your mind with perspectives unlike your own, especially in a field such as photography that's always evolving, always changing, always surprising you.

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Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Malaysia Boleh (I hope)

For the second time in a row, arrived back in Dhaka without my luggage.

I can only hope that the good AirAsia folks handling baggage at the KL airport is just as good as their colleague that literally ran with me through the airport, guiding me and clearing the way (fastest exit through customs ever) so that I was actually the first one to board the plane to Dhaka.

Amazing, if you consider that I landed only 40 minutes before it was due to take off. Thanks to him, I actually had the boarding pass for the next flight in my hands even before I cleared through customs (I had to check out and check in as the 2 flights were separate). That's why, really, Malaysia really boleh!

Plus that lovely air stewardess who helped me by putting me at the front of the plane, getting off with me and handing me over to the ground staff -- all the while urgently explaining my situation to him in Malay.

So my luggage, including a brand new electric guitar (and way too much pork for one person to consume), was supposed to have arrived on today's flight instead, but I found out (after 2 hours of constant calling) that it would only get here tomorrow.

Like I told the guy on the phone, I don't care if its late, just make sure it gets here.

And I thought it was rather poignant, albeit in an unpleasant way, that a housefly suddenly landed next to my face on the window at the exact moment when the wheels of the plane made contact with the ground in Dhaka.

Hm.

Friday, May 01, 2009

Haven't had a fever in a long while, and was rather intrigued to wake up yesterday morning feeling as though someone had taken a blunt tool and beaten all my joints to a pulp. Spent the night utterly confused as my body said it was COLD but after 5 minutes under the blanket the same body said TOO FUCKING HOT!

Every time the season and temperatures change, people here fall ill from a "seasonal flu". I think its the most noticeable from winter to spring, or from spring to summer (also known as the season when Jess-spends-too-much-time-submerged-in-ice-water). I had been feeling fine, even though all my colleagues have been calling in sick.

This is NOT GOOD. If I land at Changi before the fever subsides, there's a good chance I'll get quarantined. I doubt the good folks in surgical masks would accept my "seasonal flu" explanation.

But well, its true. No one is immune to a change in the weather. I went to see the doctor today, and even before I opened my mouth to say anything, he asked rhetorically, "Fever?"

Monday, April 27, 2009

Oh Jesus.

This is a joke, right?

Dr Thio [Dr Thio Su Mien] said she went on to discover that in Aware's comprehensive sexuality education programme, which is taken to schools, homosexuality is regarded as a neutral word, not a negative word.

'I started thinking, 'Hey, parents, you better know what's happening,'' she said.

'I talked to parents. I said: You better do something about this, otherwise your daughter will come back and say, 'Mum, I want to marry my girlfriend.'

'Or your son will say: 'Dad, I want to marry my boyfriend.''


I mean, seriously?

'And this is something which should concern parents in Singapore. Are we going to have an entire generation of lesbians?'

What? Huh? Do not compute. Are you really saying this? Huh? What? My brain is going to explode.

And what does this even mean?

I find to my dismay that Aware seems to be only very interested in lesbianism and the advancement of homosexuality, which is a man's issue,' she said.


I'm guess its good that I'm all alone in my house and no one can hear me screaming.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Water Festival = Water in Unwanted Places

Yet another lesson well learnt, alongside classic favourites such as How to Win in a Stare Contest and Thou Shalt Look All Ways Before You Cross This Street. The latter is interesting if only because I remember a particular court case about a car accident in Singapore where the prosecution said the victim was not obliged to look both ways before she crossed the road because it was a ONE WAY STREET and who the hell drives in reverse at such high speeds? Well, my friend, welcome the land where the roads go wherever you want it to.

So the camera is, erm, dehumidifying in the dehumidifier room. I'm not sure how long it takes to suck out all the water, and I've been warned (in low, anxious tones) NOT to try to switch it on until a hundred years have passed unless I want everyone to think I'm an IDIOT.

I think, dude, I went to a water festival with no plastic protection, I think I got that covered.

Anyway, in my defence, the water attack that ruined my mood and camera was SNEAKY and UNFAIR. We had arrived at the small field where the festivities were taking place, only to find the programme had been held on hold because it had begun to rain. So there wasn't any water-throwing taking place, just a bunch of people who had already soaked each other but were still trying to seek shelter from the rain (I know).

While debating which leaky roof to hide under, a dude crept up from behind and silently emptied a bucket of water down my back. And because the world is just, the same dude slipped and fell in the mud (earning jeers from peers) a little while later. I only wish he'd landed face first.

Weather hit 41˚C yesterday. How anyone gets any work done in this weather is beyond me.

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Sunday, April 19, 2009

Camera + Water = Everything Sucks.

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Monday, April 13, 2009

Embankment

Down by the embankment. On the map it says the area is called Rayer Bazar Badhya Bhumi. Not that far away from the main urban areas, but a whole different world -- ponds, water bodies, water hyacinths, cricket on green green grass, children, brick factories, lots of open space, goats, tanneries, cows, sheep, children etc.

Rayer Bazar Badhya Bhumi

No, nothing will keep the kids away.

Rayer Bazar Badhya Bhumi

I quite liked this picture till my local friend saw it and told me I was a rude photographer. Anyway, I hope you like the picture. If so, I shouldn't tell you that he's heading to the toilet by the pond.

Rayer Bazar Badhya Bhumi

Rayer Bazar Badhya Bhumi

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Woof.

Rayer Bazar Badhya Bhumi

So it turns out that the crazy barking at night from the house down the road is from this really pretty dog that's strangely docile in the morning. From my window I thought it was a pit bull. Not.

Rayer Bazar Badhya Bhumi

And also liking pretty mongrels with long, furry tails.

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