NB. As-salamu-alaikum, Peace be upon you, is the standard greeting among Muslims; answered by Wa-alayku-muassalam—And upon you. In old Royalist Yugoslavia (among the Orthodox) it was Pomaze Bog, and replied Bog te pomogo: God’s grace/And to you. Revived in recent time it seems with the religious resurgence.
Australian writer of Montenegrin descent en route to a polyglot European port at the head of the Adriatic mid-2011 shipwrecks instead on the SE Asian Equator. 12, 36, 48…80, 90++ months passage out awaited. Scribble all the while. By some process stranger than fiction, a role as an interpreter of Islam develops; Buddhism & even Hinduism. (Long story.)
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Seasoned Veteran
NB. As-salamu-alaikum, Peace be upon you, is the standard greeting among Muslims; answered by Wa-alayku-muassalam—And upon you. In old Royalist Yugoslavia (among the Orthodox) it was Pomaze Bog, and replied Bog te pomogo: God’s grace/And to you. Revived in recent time it seems with the religious resurgence.
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
On the Case (June25)
What to distinguish him from a corpse this angle? Nothing whatever.
In the history of art a figure was never painted from that perspective.
Whorled strands thinly covering the pate; waxy enough and without any suggestion of respiration.
Was there a heartbeat?
As in the case of a real corpse, difficult to tell whether HDB Uncle unable to afford aircon luxuriating in some precious cool shut-eye; or else a retiree getting out from under his wife’s and the maid’s feet at a more salubrious residence.
Without the snoring the Shelf-stacker need not intervene. (Strictly speaking, there was no sleeping allowed in the library, offenders tweaked by the ear and duly informed, even the ancients.)
Usual crowd in the Basement. Hardly a student, to say nothing of a student of life. Couple keen graphic readers with noses buried; more’n a couple. (Once and for all, to hell with the keen promoters of the art-form! Even the NYRB has joined the ranks!)
Sleepers marginally in the majority. One little champ irritated to have his concentration on BATMAN distracted by a junior by the far shelves that he can’t quite make out. Craning his neck with an appropriate look of disdain etched prematurely on his youthful face…
How grown men allow themselves to be decked out in HUSH PUPPIES really beats you. Truly defies understanding. Does the chap have any shred of self-respect? (This same moment within a hall of learning in a parallel world in a galaxy not so distant from our own a man in that same get-up is taken by the shoulders and shaken like a tree for its fruit. My dear Comrade, please take a look at yourself in this rock-pool by the entry.)
Refreshing to see the lass sharing the couch submerged in ancient Egyptian artwork; Mandarin text. Not pursuing Biz. Fin. to please parents, for all the straight up-and-down appearance.
Might have been AUTHENTIC next in the same colour tone and design as the Puppies sandwich-board. (Cruelly diminished nobodies & ghost apparitions in the concrete jungle forced to declare themselves Limited Edition, Authentic and Superman in disguise. Global high numbers per capita massification labels.)
Correction: screens of course clearly in the majority; most definitely. No contest, winning hands down. (Facing away from the main row of couches swivelling round was needed to check properly.)
Picasso and Truth suddenly broke like a thunderbolt from the least likely hands of a Zeus in the row directly ahead. Wow! You would never have picked this fellow, not in a million years. Australian possibly; no brand blue polo. Hair-cut and steel rims mid-range Exec; boating shoes, but not the expensive leather. (Fessing up now; coming clean: you once wanted a pair of those handsome dark tan shoes yourself, didn’t you now, with the stiff laces that sprung from the tongue? Yes you did. And very nearly purchased too.)
Nice Try was bought by mum for the tousle-haired young teen looking like a lost sheep in the aisle; or was he allowed to choose from the rack himself, inducted into the consumer playground?
Failed to notice Creativity and Literary Arts signed. Plenty of graphics will be found on those shelves there, no doubt. Batman a cert. How much more creative can you get than Bat & Robin in their cave hideout?
Someone on some sort of device had a kind of rubber-duckie timed monitor or alarm hooked…
Lap-top overheating; prompt apology.
Ear-piece, phone & lap-top. The man had tapped the latter. Indian-Chin?
When one has been an observer all one’s life, set puzzling questions and boggling quandaries from early on, this was how you end up.
National Library, Sing
2011-25
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Trust Deficit
Monday, May 28, 2018
Flat Spot (Aug23)
Running aground somewhat quart after three after lunch and the walk round to the library. As in most cities, refuge at the library when the church or other sanctuary was not available. Such vacancy indeed that in the end Yanasagaran was messaged for a possible meet. (The man must be given more of a chance, his circs. appreciated and due allowance granted, especially in the month of Ramadan. The example of the best Muslims in the community has rubbed off a bit.) A look for Eileen Chang at a couple of the stores fruitless. 1960s - 70s HK Chang keeps popping up in references; time she was given a look. Even the young tubby lad running the bookstore at the base of Bras Basah Complex knew of Eileen Chang. Recently they had had her on their shelves, Tubby remembering the green spine. At lunch a woman with young boy at the KV table could not be judged whether maid or mother. A little attractive and with fine quiet manner. Eventually a glimpse of the little fellow as he hoed into his food delivered the shining essence of the mother in the triangle of nose and mouth. The genetic encoding that gives people such joy and reassurance. Sreco moja! Oci moje drage. My fortune! My dear eyes!... The woman’s eyes had dimmed over the years; early on she had gleamed brightly beside her own mother just like this little mite now sitting opposite her. Ogledalo moje, Mirror mine, fond and loving Montenegrin mothers will also coo over their children. Another kiddie show in practice here for the weekend presumably. The children’s parents would not be so far removed from the fun of animation either, easy to imagine their up-tilted faces on the chairs in the audience and pointing out features to the little ones at their side. In that echo chamber the practice volume over the sound system that had been installed was like a sudden burst of terrorists onto the concourse with all guns blazing. Sing-along tunes in fake kiddie slang jolly-jolly-jolly, aren’t we all having so much fun. (Did this kind of production still work for the screen generation of little ones?) At the pissoire notes had been embedded in a little groove on the top of the unit which without glasses could not be deciphered properly. BOOK BUGS?... (You think you might be able to take a leak in Singapore without being assaulted by the marketing you’ve got another think coming.) Bugsters’ Bash was promised here on the little painted back-drop back of stage. The performers in the felt get-up might be closely monitored here—every chance of someone expiring in the middle of the routines. The overcast was a godsend for all today. One could imagine how disturbed Yana would have been when the low-level babble at KV always had the man shifting in his seat and casting toward the door. “The Hook” one of the women at the Hanis tables had been mining; (biz. strategy rather than gothic/suspense). But that was nothing. Out on North Bridge footing back a young Mainland tourist he may have been wheeling his own and his girl’s suitcases proclaimed boldly on his chest like the proper contemporary Superhero, Conquer Everything.
Friday, May 25, 2018
Curly Ones
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
LXXXXXXXX
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
Post-Election Relief — Malaysia (Some Light)
Monday, May 21, 2018
Sunday, May 13, 2018
Huffing and Puffing
Saturday, May 12, 2018
(No) Walk in the Park
Friday, May 11, 2018
Curated (Trumpet / Kim Summit)
Instagrammable hotel trade setting a hot pace in the republic. The discerning fin. products trader in the pic. “does not specifically look for an Instagrammable hotel, but places great emphasis on aesthetics.” (Potential brides BEWARE such-like chappies: a lifetime of pain and hardship awaiting.)
Straits Times, Home section p. 1-2, 10 May 2018
Wednesday, May 9, 2018
50 Years After the Paris Students (May1968)
Fatty young student of some description on Selegie Road near Peace Centre; some solid part Caucasian that was clearly well outside the chief Western round and the Singaporean ethos predominating. Fond Eastern Euros at a guess spending plenty in their investment on their boy; if Mummy didn’t dress him in the morning she did see him to the door of the condo. The lad was caught nearer the traffic lights outside the Centre’s entrance, rather than 20 - 30 metres down where the local kids in their cut-offs and sleeveless tees, tattooed and pierced, smoke by the garbage bins. A number of Mainlanders join their Chin cousins in that sector, girls of sexual experience and boys who smoke weed. (Yes, even in Sing.) The more conventionally ambitious lad reminding himself of his personal responsibility was another kettle of fish. A week ago one of the Tekka stall-holders dishing up Lahore and Delhi fare, an older lad in his mid-30s, was picked up for his Schopenhauer Change is the only constant whatnot. Did he understand a word of that billboard? No, he confessed, he did not. Was he going to own that then, especially with Ramadan around the corner?... Something for him to consider. (Some years past a young shop assistant selling drapes at J. C. Complex in Geylang Serai had sported a Husserl if you can believe!)
NB. NYRB in its current edition carries an interview with one of the student leaders of the Paris Manifestations of fifty years ago.
Friday, May 4, 2018
The Hindu Inheritance
Near half two after Feidu printing. You’re not kidding it’s good to be back at KV. Twenty-three days was a stretch. The food for one thing — veg. was difficult to source in Jogja, at least around Malioboro. The turmeric helping to dodge one bullet at least, bowel or stomach C. from memory. Music filtering quietly from the kitchen low and tender old time Tamil sweeteners just as we like it. Chubby newer guy knows the standard order like the rest of them, but in his case often the two portions were delivered together. With the soup lukewarm no great matter today. Opere grlo, cleanses the throat, Bab used to say. Setting off some little cough as usual from the spices a benefit no doubt. One does not patronise Komala for pretty girls more’s the pity; only occasionally attending. Occasionally an Indo or Tamil maid will land with Madam, which sets off a fevered subterfuge of note-passing if the old dear can be got round. (Reminds of the Indo at Wadi 2-3 months back it must be rudely ignoring the overture.) One young pretty as it happens today diagonally opposite corner. Displaced once again with the crowd in the second room and hard against the window, the lass by the kitchen wall. On her screen and it must have been Bapak chaperoning earlier — she was not at all the sort for a sugar daddy. You should not be looking in that direction granted, even on flyer days with the new batik print adding lustre. Shockingly presumptive. Blonde Western wilted rose sporting a large tattoo that snakes down from her shoulder onto her bicep with some better wits about her might have respectfully covered herself with one of her scarfs in such a place, like in the temples. Poor Sweet cornered can’t help the furtive glances — what was life after all without some erotic cat-and-mouse. No harm done, no fretting; we’ll do it strictly avuncular tempered and smooth within these walls. One of the smiles earlier from a woman seeking a place at a table was reminiscent of the younger Shiela, something that was carried in the genetic inheritance indicative of womanly warmth and nature that failed to always get an opportunity to show in the big bad metropolis. An Indian trader newly opened on Malioboro had reported the nearest Indian eatery was 5 -10kms. out of the Sosro quarter; even he could not get out there more than once in a while. Always a surprise the deepest cover of the Hindu past across that archipelago.
Thursday, May 3, 2018
The Morning After
Truly does feel like one is being targeted specifically here. Virtually every visit to NTUC at J. C. Complex the thing comes on at the top of the escalator as if a trip wire has been crossed. Where there was silence before, a mind focused on the Wheat Bix second row on the right, the swelling flood suddenly pouring down without warning: ....Take….these broken wings.... Inundating the brain, the frontal lobe, and deeply saturating. Take….these broken wings....and help him fly again whatnot repeated how many times as if the needle was sticking. Exposed and nowhere to hide there beneath the fluro glare. There was no counterpart to Jingle Bells for the Muslim festive season, nor the Gong xi fa cai — gong xi, gong xi, gong xi ni....of CNY. So “broken wings” perhaps, delicately referencing the saints and angels of the Islamic world in the run-up to Ramadan and Hari Raya. It sounds far-fetched. A stretch, granted. But you would not put it past these programmers here, really. You would not. As anticipated, many inches in the morning’s paper were devoted to the celebrations of the day before. Happy MAY DAY! was the banner at the main rally at Downtown East, attended by the Prime Minister. Again, polos as anticipated: orange and yellow for functionaries who were being re-routed by the PM (in cherry-ripe red himself) after recommendations from the relevant committees. These recommendations had been accepted; so-be-it, agreed the paramount leader. As in all the years previously, once more at the Wadi tables in the afternoon there had been no twigging at the crowd. Oh! A gathering. It happened occasionally. No twigging it was a mandated public holiday in Singapore. You read right. Singapore celebrating May One. May Day no less. The day of the toilers &etc. Nevertheless, one of the young cherubic journos in the newspaper coverage next morning was reminding the populace in his column that the workers should remember there was no such thing as a free lunch. Or was it no-one owed anyone a living in this life…. Young dude pictured early thirties had studied hard at university, attained all his insights and now delivered. Salutary reminder of the way of the world duly delivered next morning, May 2, in case anyone was getting ahead of themselves. Evening coming down quickly as usual in Lower Geylang, not so many noticing the blush through the trees in the West. Clouds prevented Manager Zahruddin from removing the awnings. Couple chapatti and dahl would suffice for supper, the concession a fourth teh halia after the privation in Jogja. Leaning back lazily in the green plastic chair in that settled calm, a sight that still, despite oneself, could disturb and unnervingly rattle. Here was a tousle-haired fellow not having had a good day you could see immediately. Hanging his head more than a bit and held up by his girl as they paced toward the Changi corner returning to their pigeon hole after the trials endured between breakfast and the supper hour. Take the FIRST STEP was black with faded white lettering. Newly bought the fabric had sat more handsomely on that light frame. The chap had crumpled since; the collar of the tee stretched and come loose. Chap had tried, done his darndest striding forward; just lately it wasn’t working. There were obstacles and unexpected misfortunes. Set-back on his heels temporarily and catching breath, this might not prove his undoing. The lass at his side offered hope. Together they would continue with a will onward and steadily forward. Just now it mightn’t look like it.
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
Marking the Occasion
On For Young and Old
The old uncle fattening his 25 - 30 yr. junior wife/girlfriend dyes weekly, ten days at the outside. Handsome pair of gold-rimmed John Lennon glasses newly purchased surprisingly good taste, more than stylish enough for all-day wear now. Likely she had helped with the selection. For his own part uncle was carefully counting the calories, some kinda trim maintained. Might easily have crossed seven-zero sum game; understandably firmly resistant to any kind of acknowledgement of this Scribe here. As for her of course, steer well and truly clear, wide a berth as possible, QE2 and then some. Once inadvertently passing close by the lady had been given a short, reflexive smile wholly and entirely accidental. Poor dear could not but unpurse her lips despite herself, risking all manner of catastrophic mayhem. Today with a crowd at Wadi an unfortunate proximity, Bapak possibly not having noticed the presence in front after the weeks of absence; or perhaps they had seated themselves while the drink was being fetched. Thank heavens luckily enough the woman was facing the right way. (Once when we had been similarly caught out the poor lady needed to reverse positions at the table in order to avoid the direct line.) At a guess even a dozen kilograms had been slowly added over the course of the three or four years, little by little making the lady his own. Five or certainly six years ago the chap had still been with his first wife. At the earliest the pair had appeared at Wadi perhaps 2015.