Mini Lee was spot on…it was a bloody invasion…p….it was many years ago. Maybe in another life….they invaded all right….

https://intelligentsingaporean.wordpress.com/2005/02/20/the-confessions-of-a-singaporean-gangster-in-london-chapter-34-35-“somewhere-in-the-jungles-in-kampuchea-during-the-rainy-season-–-4-years-ago”/

Remember. I am putting money in your pocket! As maybe less than a bus of folk know the difference in a stadium…..but now you have a seat on the bus.

You should consider yourself blessed to be in my company….btw tell no one.

Trees

May 31, 2019

Fire & Brasil

May 31, 2019

Ball

May 30, 2019

Fuel

May 29, 2019

https://player.fm/series/sleepwalkers-2504091/sleepwalking

Last year I said to myself that i would make an effort to cast off labels. You know labels like he’s like that or belongs to that or even he’s not one of us. I felt inclined to do this as my life was increasingly getting narrower and there was even a real risk that I would end up as a parochial and insular being who had nothing in common with the rest of humanity…the good side at least.

As I begun my journey to erase thought based labelling – that’s what I term it. As when we label someone of something. What we inadvertently do is also attach a narrative to what we would think of that person or group. For instance gays are like this or that. People who have been educated their entire life in only Singapore can only be glorified frogs in the well….as i began to shed my habit of labelling people and things. I could almost sense immediately a whole entire continent of possibilities rising up around me.

The old world of set pieces of assumptions, beliefs, narratives which had always shimmered before certain groups of people, events and things began to crumble and peel away, revealing a startling new fullness of undestanding.

This ecentually led me to take the process of deconstruction one step further by unlearning how I ascribe meaning to words. I felt a compelling need to do this only because as I thought about what i was doing. It occured to me in one rare monent of epiphany that my whole idea of not wanting any longer to live in a narrative thats increasingly scripted in terms of its us against them would require me to do the same for words as well. Only because a word carries with it thought, feeling and possibly even the weight of memory….by association if not really experienced. Words that we regularly use and take in can often blur together elements that have little to do with the truth and everything to do with how greater powers want us to see other groups of people, events and things.

When we reduce ourselves to pure thought it can all only end with understanding for a person, event or thing….’

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‘If you just look at spaghetti as just spaghetti then maybe you would add in a can of tomatoes, cheese and probably throw in some tabasco for good measure. But recently when i was clearing out my fridge. I found an ancient lenght of lap cheong. You know the Chinese sausage that you can get in Chinatown in Singapore. Those things can last forever….so i looked at my spaghetti and soon it became noodles and with that I just diced up that lenght of lap cheong and threw it into the mix and it came off marvellously tasty.

Now if you ask me today whether it was spaghetti or noodles. I would probably say what does it really matter….it taste good whatever it was. That if you must know is what cooking and eating is all about.

Do not be afraid where my thoughts take you. I can sense your trepidation like the flutter of a startled bird. But you keep steady and just go with it…’

https://player.fm/series/the-new-yorker-fiction-46/stuart-dybek-reads-steven-millhauser

‘Our understanding of who we are and where we,re heading in the world is essentially a function of how we make sense of the known world. Above all its not as resilient as we believe it to be…at least not against the unexpected and things like marbles being dropped by invisbile tenants in the dead of night. Often that perception is skewered by how we interprete data along with at least a million other things like whether we were dropped on the head as a baby or were blessed with parents who put our emotional wellbeing above all else.

In all probability, whatever finally emerges as the thinking person is not always perfect and faultless. Yes flawed we ALL certainly are…..and there’s perhaps the promise of solidarity in this story that unites me with the reader….but in essence that’s what it means to be human – the wisdom to come to terms with our imperfections and to live in peace with them.

Once we can undertake that perceptive shift then its easy to be forgiving and kind to ourselves and others.

For me the idea of growing your own food is not only very important, but strategic as well. The reasons hardly require much elaboration. As once you become reliant on a source for a necessity, then it can be politicised and that will always be problematic.

Some people will of course ask – is it cost effective to grow our own food? But to me that will always be a leading question. As I can always ask, how cost effective is a 155 artillery piece or an Apache helicopter? Coming to think of it have you come across any mental cases in Singapore who would ask whether a leopard tank can be used for flattening uneven roads or to pull lorries stuck in ditches along the ECP and PIE. My point is if we dont expect these strategic assets to generate a return on investment then why do we insist on doing the same for domestic agriculture and livestock.

Besides no matter what accounting methods are used. The cost of breeding and growing anything in Singapore will always be higher than elsewhere simply because land stands at a premium.

So to me agriculture and livestock is not something that can exist in Singapore without subsidise. The problem as I see it is simply this – any proposal that is premised on the word subsidy seems economically heretical. Not with standing the US is a leading subsidiser of American wheat, corn and rape seed. And this accounts for why starving Africans continue to get airdrops of farming produce from the US. The issue is whether these subsidies are above board and on the level or are they opaque and couched in endless executive mysteries and bureucratic intrigues.

This is where I will stop for the time being.

Some may say that fake news needs policing. Others see nothing wrong with it. But I want to be clear just because they see it that way doesnt make it the right thing to do. To me its got nothing to do with fighting fake news. If that were really true then the final arbiters of winnowing truth from lies will not rest with the current custodians of power…the indictment is as singularly simple as that.

So what is goal?

The goal in my view is to put a policeman into the head of every stakeholder of Singapore. That’s their mission. But to that I say – you fudging around with stuff that you don’t know anything about….why dont you go juggle live hand grenades or stick your tongue to lick military grade plutonium.

For me this whole idea of putting a policeman in every persons head is way too big for any government or anyone to do…its like removing your skull and digging a piece of your brain out and hooking it up to a chip or something!….its too big – if we humans have a proven record of being wise decision makers that might make whether its a good idea moot…but in truth, we humans are lousy decision makers and we are very far from the wisdom quotient…we don’t know for instance why even mushrooms flares up like they do after a thunderstorm in one place and not another or whether even dogs dream about being owned by other owners. As humans we make terrible decisions like sanctioning lobotomies and approve products and services that make chewing on razors look kosher. One top of all that we humans are guilty of terrible crimes – we continue to poison the earth and oceans as there’s no tommorrow, we declare war with the innocent and form alliances with crooks and murderers and in two thousand years of recorded human history we havent quite figured out how to be even kind and reasonable and loving to ourselves. Above all we continue to con ourselves that our lives are getting better even when the bus is heading to the edge of the cliff….. So who are we really to say putting a policeman in everyone’s head is somehow going to make the problem of fake news go away….to me this is just too much power to give governments or anyone.

To me this will always be a very big mistake even if it manages to solve the problem….as the cost is simply exorbitantly high.’

Like all world class stupid strategies, it can only make those who they mean to weaken stronger.

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‘If you want to hasten the demise of an oligrachy or hegemony or any group of people. All you have to do is let me them have their way complete with icing and cherry topping….its like the anti ‘fake’ law news that the PAP just rolled out. The irony is their stupid leaders believe this is a reliable, sustainable and effective means for them to monopolize power in Singapore. What they dont seem to realize is all this would do is riven their ranks with complacency, weaknesses and stasis.

I understand what I have mentioned is a very bold claim. But if you peruse thru the annals of history with a fine tooth comb. You will find what I have mentioned has a fidelity factor of 100%. That’s to say the application of this rule is virtually axiomatic and it applies irrespective of whether it is a fortune 500 firm, regime, political hegemony or even a class of individuals who share a common body of beliefs.

Its fair to say as unbelievable as it seems, in the next ten years. There will be no such thing as the PAP any longer. You will probably find them as a dusty artifact next to the Dodo bird exhibit in a museum.

I think if there’s such a thing as a ‘take away’ from this story of Mr Koreana and Miss D, it is the notion – you can never out run your past….you can certainly try and try hard enough like all things, maybe you can get ahead of it for a while. But eventually the past will over take you and get ahead.

Where I might differ from others is probably the idea – I dont think its a complete waste if one doesnt live well the first half of one’s life. As I happen to believe even if you took a wrong turn in the moment of your youth and lived an existence that’s so base and devoid of all the goodness humanity has to offer…..you can still use all that hurt and pain as raw material to make the second half of your life better.

In the case of Mr Koreana he just doesnt know how to make that transition between the world of the past and the present and future….he’s stuck in a sort of transit zone where it seems he’s in a perpetual state of dissonance. You know that place where you have to be in to get to wherever you want to go. But in the case of Koreana, he’s like a permanent resident of transit land.

I think when I reflect back on my own experience that’s really how I relate to the world. Most people back home in Singapore dont really experience this lag in consciousness becauze they’re always marinating around people. So that process by itself desentisizes one. But for me since I live and work alone in an alien environment. I literally live a life of a lone astronaut. I am for instance hyperconscious of many things that you may very well be oblivious too because you have been so desensitized by the act of ordinary living…you simply cannot register it. To sense this difference spatially, emotionally and spiritually. I think one has to mentally and spiritually remove oneself from the world. So when I crafted this character, Mr Koreana….I think yes, its somewhat true to say he’s definitely a vantage to how I see the world.

As for your second question – whether he (Mr Koreana) represents my struggle with autism.

I definitely struggled before when I was in Singapore and maybe the first five years here. But these days. I dont struggle to seek the approval of others. Infact, I do even feel the necessity to command their respect. I realize this may come across as narcistically self indulgent. But it isnt actually. I think its a product of ageing and mellowing and settling down and reconciling. Because one cannot keep on fighting all the time.

You see I am what I am.

I cannot be someone else.

I can only be myself…who I am.

As so seeking acceptance. Or understanding. I dont think that can ever come before the idea of who I am. If it does, then something is definitely very wrong with my thinking.

As you can see. i have spent alot of time thinking over this matter.

I think its quite futile to talk about Mr Koreana coherently…..only because the narrative is not linear. The story begins sort of in the middle or maybe its near the end. Or maybe its before the beginning like an appendix or another book involving the same characters….so there you go…you will have problems.

But having said its a futile endeavor to talk about Mr Koreana doesnt necessarily mean we wouldn’t yield good results from such a discussion….we can…only my feel is we have to first step out from the corsetted idea of what a story is and how its supposed to read.

You see its conceivable even the way we make sense of a narrative is completely topsy turvy….I dont want to be accused of running before I can even crawl. But it wouldnt be far fetched to say Mr Koreana is a very complex character.

On one hand you can say quite correctly he has an extraterrestrail quality about him like someone who just stepped out from a flying saucer…but at the same time, he’s familiar enough for each of us to identify with….for example his job description – I sell coffee…its simple, but yet it isnt, because that aperture opens up a new dimension into another life of another person.

So you see now. Its not so simple for me to just have a casual conversation about Mr Koreana. Maybe we will do it much later a few years after I have completed the book…its really too early now.

The season of love…

May 20, 2019

Ladies and gentlemen,

i am pleased to announced the continuation of the long awaited love series of Miss D and Mr Koreana.

Only pleaze note, if evil people pump me full of holes like Emental cheese….I can no longer write in this dimension.

‘I happen to fall into the category of thinkers who believe love is very powerful. By that I recognize first hand, the idea love as a concept, school of thought or even ideologue has to be probably the most intimidating concept to the man.

That if you must know is why most men and some women dont feel comfortable with the subject of love….dont get me wrong, they dont mind rimming you or even giving you a one hour epic blow job. But when it comes to discussing the guts and internals of what constitutes love….you will find few takers.

That’s because most people are not truly comfortable with the idea of love….I think to be at one with the concept and school of thought of love, one must first be destroyed, that’s to say the self, the ego must first go thru a sort decay where its completely destroyed and only then can something significant emerge from that wasteland of the empire of the bones…..this is why love is so powerful.

As true love first demands the complete destruction of the self…specifically the ego. I dont know of any other human emotion or impulse that demands that sort of sacrifice!’

Whenever my mind wants to tell me something…a dwarf dressed in a tuxedo will appear in my dreams. He’s always in a crowd. He’s always holding a mahogony box and within it…is the message.

It can be in a letter or montage like a movie.

On this occasion.

A man is dining in the restaurant all by himself. There is nothing unusual about this. As this man is always alone. A assassin walks in – he bears a pistol, the other diners stream out hastily. A few scream. But most run as fast as they can – but this one man remains.

As the gun man approaches his table – the man puts down his cutlery calmly, wipes his mouth with his napkin and straightens his bushjacket. He seems to know the time has come. Nothing seems to surprise him. As he has probably replayed this scene in his mind eye a thousand times – he knows it so well that he even tries to calm down the nervous gun man, as he struggles with the safety by asking him in a calm voice – to proceed slowly….and please don’t make a mess.

When the gun is leveled at this man – he does not cringe. Neither does he show any resistance. Instead looks directly into the barrel and simply express to this lone gunman or maybe himself or perhaps even to providence – today is a very good day to die.

Remember me always…..I will have to prepare for death. Do not be sad. The circle will never be broken. I will definitely return and be reincarnate again as….maybe your hamster, bunny wabbit or gold fish…we will always be together.

Meanwhile fuck those sister fuckers cheebai who are out to kill me! Fuck your mother lah!

Do not be sad.

————

Mr Koreana was a very easy man to love. Only because he was very good at throwing that ball called love. That was how Miss D saw the politics of love – to her, the process didn’t have anything to do with some lofty disquisition – it differed only slightly from two people playing catch with a ball. May seem childish, but to Miss D being able to throw a ball straight and with just the right amount of strength was the clearest indication of a consummate lover. Miss D was aware not every man can always be relied to throw right. Most men just chuck the ball – it always came to her only after having to perform somersaults or rolls…and even if they could some how sort out their aim. There was the other niggling issue of being either to soft or hard. Seldom did she ever experience the satisfying joy of catching one where the feeling between desire and fulfillment was just right like the ones Mr Koreana threw at her.

He seemed born. No. Destined to throw her number 10 balls…that’s how she rated his throws, from one to ten…they were all tens.

In fact one could well be forgiven for believing – this skill in being able to throw perfect balls could really only have come from having been a lifelong prisoner on the island called Mr Koreana. Miss D knew a thing or two about how a man comes of age to throwing perfect balls.

She even suspected. What looked like gentle rolling hills on this placid island were in fact jagged blood stained ridges. Sometimes only a little of that showed whenever he was in the mood to talk. But nearly all of who he really was or what he once belonged too revealed itself in the starkest possible terms when Mr Koreana threw one perfect ball after another – it was as thought when he threw the ball. All he ever wanted to do was to reach out beyond the ocean of time into some distraught past.

For Mr Koreana must have been none other than a tragic victim of…whatever. Yes, whatever. As what really haunted him was always hidden by an impenetrable veil of mystery that Miss D could never hope to ever beacon out and so she termed it under the broad geography of whatever…. besides it was too faraway for her to ever imagine….as it all probably stood like a moss riven shipwreck…..another life of another man, possibly even another plane of existence and whatever little Miss D was able to make out was simply the sugar coated shell of the impeccable ball thrower – who she suspected could only have honed the perfection of his skills by throwing out letters stuffed in bottles from that deserted island where he was marooned – it was this quality of lingering detachment about Mr Koreana that always filled Miss D with longing. Whenever this feeling descended upon her, she would simply stop, let her arms flop and stare hard at Mr Koreana. As if to tell him – I know your secret…but no matter how hard Miss D searched with her eyes. All she could make out was his outward appearance of lovability as he prepared for yet another perfect throw of the ball. Even after when she had refused to play catch the ball any more unless he told her his mystery. All he could do was look at her pleadingly with that, ‘are you ready?’ expression of expectancy.

Even when Miss D insisted she no longer wanted to play. Mr Koreana could always be counted to supply his well crafted and heroic construction of why they should play on. And this feeling Miss D believed was intertwined, ultimately to the point of indistinguishability, with the very finality of Mr Koreana’s imprisonment in this fictitious island that he had constructed somewhere in his head; for Mr Koreana the perfect ball thrower. The act of was sharper than addiction, much more satisfying than fiction. It was probably his only means of redemption from the terrible past that haunted him.

Eventually the game would always end the same – they would both fall silent and stare at each other. As if each knew what was in the others head. That was at least how Miss D saw it in her mind’s eye – not anything near resolution. Rather closer to a point of indistinguishability where both their hidden lives would suddenly coaveslece into a sort of happy reverie resembling nothingness.

Nothingness being none other than the very form of Miss D and Mr Koreana.

https://player.fm/series/13-minutes-to-the-moon

‘When I think about the whole idea of putting a man on the moon. It could really only have been an American project. That was because America at that moment in history was a very idealistically driven country that had perhaps the clearest sense of destiny for where it wanted to go along with taking the rest of the world with it. America at that period of history saw space as a strategic asset in the same way the Romans regarded road building or the British their extensive navy as a jugular cornerstone of sustaining an empire.

Today America no longer embodies these values of clarity, vision and purposefulness….America the country along with both its incoherent and incomprehensible domestic and foreign policy is now like an old senile and decrepit man confined to his wheelchair. From time to time, this old fool will stand up and talk passionately about whatever piques his fancy…..but sadly, no one listens to America any longer.

One day many people will ask – what was America’s finest hour. I say it has to be just around the period when the lunar missions came into the American scenery. As that was the zenith of American will to power…it was just after the second world war and the American candle burnt so brightly that it could only go very dark thereafter. What many people didnt realize was it was the last gasping crie de couer of a dying dream. A dream that gave itself all away to the atmosphere in one brief moment like a beautiful starburst on the fourth of July…..to me at least America will always be this beautiful yet tragic swan.’

The suprise raid launched against my business rivals was so brazen…reckless and possibly insane. That no one would ever believe it could be pulled off by someone who did not have unlimited reserves…..So even as their mighty carrier fleet tries to search and destroy my imaginary fleet.

I can tell fear of the unknown has riven their ranks like a debilitating disease….I have categorically refused to come to the negotiating table to talk peace. Instead the issue is open as to whether I might sink more carriers!

They have even sent emissaries…I rebuffed them all with that cryptic message…I am only a simple man who wants to turn the wheel of life on my veggie patch peacefully…but there are stupid people who force me to the path of evil!

It is only a matter of time before they will succumb to the terror of their own mind games…..

——————————————————————————

‘You must always be careful of WHERE your thoughts are taking you. Go on a ride you most definitely will. As that’s the nature of a mind that’s under pressure.

Understand this! if you are not mindful, you might very well end up in a very rough neighborhood where your mind will end up running helter skelter.

If that happens your mind is no longer your friend and will turn around and eat you like a tiger.

This is how people lose their head…..usually…nine out of ten, its not what others did or did not do to them….usually they were defeated by their own thinking. To put it in another way, they are their worst enemy….knowing this gives you insight…it is power….so keep this chip in a safe place because one day this knowledge will save your bony ass!’