Sunday, July 23, 2006

A Movie Review: Rainbow

It serves me right I guess. I was at the store the other day, and one the sales rack, there was a Thai gay movie. At 99 baht, it seems a bargain to see some top Thai starts acting gay for a while in Tang Rak See Rung (Rainbow - tagline "What color... is your love?").

I should have seen that it was a straight to video job, and the screenwriter has his/her name under a psuedonym. While I really have to give credit to the film makers for making a movie with good intentions and with positive portrayal of gay characters, the movie is one of those so bad it makes you laugh out loud kind of films.

I'll list out some cliches, and perhaps you can stitch all this together back into the movie's story line.

  • Gay hero #1 is an outspoken, but sensitive fashion editor who is pining for love after a bad break-up.
  • Gay hero #1 is played be Bordin Duke. To signal his out-ness, he wears a man-scarf in every scene.




  • Gay hero #2 is a not so outspoken, but sensitive up-and-coming model/closet case. In just one scene it's revealed that his father is adamant he gives up modeling soon and enter military service. Oh and he used to dress up in his sister's clothes when he was a kid. Of course, his dad beat him up very severly for it. His nickname is 'Man.'
  • Gay hero #2 sees gay hero #1 with another guy. In despair, of course, he goes into a dressing room and put on flaming red lipstick. Then cries.
  • Lesbian heroine #1, host an affairs of the heart talk-radio show with a gay slant. In an early scene, she storms into the station manager's office, screaming "You've move my program because I'm a lesbian!"
  • Lesbian heroine #2, use to have a 'phase' in highschool where she was in a relationship with lesbian heroine #1. Now she's returned to heterosexuality but her uncaring, philandering boyfriend is really causing her to think twice about men.
  • Lesbian heroine #2 and gay hero #2 get drunk, fall into a pool and try to make out. It takes three kisses for them to realize, oh yeah, I'm not attracted to the opposite sex that much.
  • Lesbian heroine #1 and gay hero #1 get drunk, wind up in a dance floor together and try to make out. It took them only one kiss to realize that they were, well, still gay.
  • Gay hero #1 and gay hero #2 embrace in the rain, but just as they are about to kiss, gay hero #2's mom sees them. She shakes head, he cries.
  • Gay hero #2 goes home to face the wrath of his father. Some unrealistic beating. He cries. His mom hysterically tries to deflect his father's blows.
  • Gay hero #2 rebels against his father by wearing woman's clothing. Some more unrealistic beating. Gay hero is bleeding when he says "Even if we beat me to death or even if you make me join the army... you'll never change who I am!" Hysterical mother makes noises in the background.
He he... it was kinda fun though.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

The Poets of Singapore: Cyril Wong

From his collection below: absence

arrival
for G
During our first few dates, we
scribbled our confessions on paper,

sending them like fast-forward
letters back and forth across the table.

Then you relented and taught me sign-
language, demonstrating how "like"

is the drawing forth of an invisible
string from the centre of your chest

like a loosened thread, freed from
the constraining fabric of your body,

while "love" is the crossing of
both arms in an act of self-defence

and a warning, or simply that "X"
which marks the point of arrival

upon the very treasure map of you.

You know you have too much free time on your hand...



... when you actually do one of those online quizzes and find out you are a 'materialist' (cue Madonna):

You scored as Materialist. Materialism stresses the essence of fundamental particles. Everything that exists is purely physical matter and there is no special force that holds life together. You believe that anything can be explained by breaking it up into its pieces. i.e. the big picture can be understood by its smaller elements.

Materialist


69%

Postmodernist


63%

Cultural Creative


56%

Existentialist


50%

Romanticist


44%

Modernist


38%

Idealist


19%

Fundamentalist


6%

What is Your World View? (updated)
created with QuizFarm.com

... when you've actually found that quiz through the Xanga of your former college crush's friend, after spending an hour browsing through Hi5.com (btw, they do get cuter when they're older).

... when you spend another hour looking through a suburban mall (Central Ladprao, in case you are wondering) trying in vain to look for a Sufjan Stevens CD.

But hey... it's fun!

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Insomnia

I just finished Bernhard Schlink's The Reader and just could not go back to sleep. It's an amazing book - how can one write a novel so lyrical and sensitive, and at the same time deal with the burden of the entire post-war German generation - the Holocaust?


*************************************

I made another one of those embarassingly late connections in pop culture while browsing at Kinokuniya the other day. On the philosophy shelf, not far from Focault, was a name teasingly waiting to be dug up from my assorted memories...

Marshall McLuhan...

Connections started to light up in my head (the sound effect is one of them sounds when you get awarded points in gameshows). Hadn't Prabda Yoon just name dropped just the other day? The Medium is the Message. The movie line in Annie Hall!

[An excerpt from Woody Allen's Annie Hall] (audio)

MAN: It's the influence of television. Now, now Marshall McLuhan deals with it in terms of it being a, a high-- high intensity, you understand? A hot medium--

WOODY ALLEN: What I wouldn't give for a large sock with horse manure in it.

MAN: -- as opposed to the truth which he [sees as the] media or--

WOODY ALLEN: What can you do when you get stuck on a movie line with a guy like this behind you?

MAN: Now, Marshall McLuhan--

WOODY ALLEN: You don't know anything about Marshall McLuhan's work--

MAN: Really? Really? I happen to teach a class at Columbia called TV, Media and Culture, so I think that my insights into Mr. McLuhan, well, have a great deal of validity.

WOODY ALLEN: Oh, do you?

MAN: Yeah.

WOODY ALLEN: Oh, that's funny, because I happen to have Mr. McLuhan right here. Come over here for a second?

MAN: Oh--

WOODY ALLEN: Tell him.

MARSHALL McLUHAN: -- I heard, I heard what you were saying. You, you know nothing of my work. How you ever got to teach a course in anything is totally amazing.
You learn something new everyday.

Monday, July 10, 2006

The Poets of Singapore: Arthur Yap



there is no future in nostalgia

& certainly no nostalgia in the future of the past.
now, the corner cigarette-seller is gone, is perhaps dead.
no, definitely dead, he would not otherwise have gone.
he is replaced by a stamp-machine,
the old cook by a pressure-cooker,
the old trishaw-rider's stand by a fire hydrant,
the washer-woman by a spin-dryer.

& it goes on
in various variations & permutations.
there is no future in nostalgia.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

The Poets of Singapore: Alfian Sa'at

Plaza Singapura

Two men talk.

Eyes hope for the sign of a gleam
In the other's, like a first star.

Words unravel and hiss like steam.
Speech a civil noise among tongues
Burnt by strange tribal welts of longing.

A nod, a smile, a switch is flicked.
They look at each other, naked light bulbs.
The heart white-hot, filament-thin.

Caresses in the stairwell.

Each sigh echoing, a child tumbling down the steps.
Fear the ecstatic engine of their gropes.
Their kisses so famished it is almost incestuous.

And long, long after the footsteps
Of families ebbing outside,
The grindstone mill of perambulators,
Housing doll-eyed babies shaking their rattles,
After the washing-machine pride of wives,
And the nail-polish vanitiy of girlfriends,
That parade beyond sealed door,

They hold each other, still in fear,
But this time of themselves in,
Or simply losing, their shipwrecked embrace.
Grateful somehow, when pried apart
By what is not shame, not fultility,
That they had avoided the territories
On each other's skin,
That could have singed them with love,
Or even its pale embers.

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Singapore, You Are Not My Country

... but I'll miss you when I'm gone.

Really, I will. Not just the friends and colleagues here... but also:

The food (high-so and lo-so). I need to make a mental note to do a farewell tour of all my favorite places, starting with the Rangoon Road bak kut teh and ps cafe... no

Singlish. At first talking to the uncle driving taxi, it was kinda hard to understand, primarily because of the speed and rhythm. Although you don't have the Singapore Tourist Board promoting it, I think it's something 'Uniquely Singapore'. Lah.

For a good comparative demonstration of English vs Singlish, tune in to this podcast from Mr. Brown (and sidekick Mr Miyagi), a hugely popular Singapore blogger. (Listen carefully for a cameo from Thailand, the land of a thousand smiles.)

And forget about the silly people who stereotype all Singaporeans as apolitical. I don't get that feeling reading the queer activism of Yawning Bread or the amusingly sarcastic commentary from Mr Wang or the slightly out of this world metaphorical wonderings of A Xeno Boy in Sg.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I took the title of today's post from a poem by Singapore's multi-talented poet-playwright, Alfian Sa'at. It's a caustic and powerful piece that captures the alienation some Singaporeans feel from their nation. (Very sorry to Mr Sa'at for misappropriating the title in my rosy post).

I like that it's got that rebelious teenager-ish devil-may-care attitude (Singapore, I assert, you are not a country at all. /Do not raise your voice against me, /I am not afraid of your anthem...) all conjured up with some powerful imagery (And how can you call yourself a country, / you terrible hallucination of highways and cranes and condominiums ten minutes drive from the MRT?). Just reminds you that poetry is not all about pretty flowers and pastoral scenes and that 'Surprising Singapore' is not just a hollow tourist slogan.

Singapore You Are Not My Country (For Noora)
Alfian Sa'at (via Zuco's Blog)

Singapore you are not my country.
Singapore you are not a country at all.
You are surprising Singapore, statistics-starved Singapore, soulful Singapore of tourist brochures in Japanese and hourglass kebayas.
You protest, but without picketing, without rioting, without Catherine Lim,
but through your loudspeaker media,
through the hypnotic eyeballs of your newscasters,
and that weather woman who I swear is working voodoo on my teevee screen.

Singapore, what are these lawsuits in my mailbox?
There are so many sheaves,
I should have tipped the postman.
Singapore, I assert, you are not a country at all.
Do not raise your voice against me,
I am not afraid of your anthem although the lyrics are still bleeding from the bark of my sapless heart.
Not because I sang them pigtailed pinnafored breakfasted chalkshoed in school
But because I used to watch telly till they ran out of shows.
Do not invite me to the podium and tell me to address you properly.
I am allergic to microphones and men in egosuits and pubicwigs.
And I am not a political martyr,
I am a patriot who has lost his country and virginity.
Do not wave a cane at me for vandalising your propaganda with technicolour harangues,
Red Nadim semen white Mahsuri menses the colourful language of my eloquent generation.
Your words are like walls on which truth is graffiti.
This has become an island of walls.
Asylum walls, factory walls, school walls, the walls of the midnight Istana.
If I am paranoid I have learnt it from you,
O my delicate orchid stalk Singapore,
Always thirsty for water,
spooked by armed archipelagoes,
always gasping for airspace,
always running to keep ahead,
running away from yourself.
Singapore why do you wail that way, demanding my IC?
Singapore stop yelling and calling me names.
How dare you call me a chauvinist,
an opposition party,
a liar,
a traitor,
a mendicant professor,
a Marxist homosexual communist
pornography banned literature chewing gum liberty smuggler? How can you say I do not believe in The Free Press autopsies flogging mudslinging bankruptcy
which are the five pillars of Justice?
And how can you call yourself a country,
you terrible hallucination of highways and cranes and condominiums ten minutes drive from the MRT?

Tell that to the battered housewife who thinks happiness lies at the end of a Toto Queue.
Tell that to the tourist guide whose fillings are pewter whose feelings are iron
whose courtesy is gold whose speech is silver
whose handshake is a lethal yank at the jackpot machine.
Tell that to my imam who thinks we are all going to hell.
Tell that to the chao ah beng who has seven stitches a broken collarbone and three dead comrades
but who will not hesitate from thrusting his tiger ribcage into another fight because the lanterns of his lungs have caught their own fire and there is no turning back.
Tell that to the yuppie who sits in meat-markets disguised as pubs, listening to Kenny G disguised as jazz on handphone disguised as conversation and loneliness disguised as a jukebox.
Tell that to all those exiles whose names are forgotten but who leave behind a bad taste in the thoughtful mouth,
reminding us that the flapping sunned linen shelters a whiff of chloroform.
Tell that to Town Council men who feed pigeons with crumbs of arsenic.
Tell that to Natra Hertogh a.k.a Maria who proved to us that blood spilled was thicker than water shed as she was caught pining under a stone angel in the nunnery for her husband.
Tell that to Ah Meng, who bore six hairy bastards for our nation.
Tell that to Lee Kuan Yew's squint.
Tell that to Josef Ng, who shaves my infant head amidst a shower of one-cent coins, and both of us are pure again.
Tell that to my Warrant Officer who knew I was faking.
Tell that to the unemployed man who drinks cigarettes smokes tattoos watches peanuts unself-conscious of his gut belch debts and wife having an affair with the Salesman of Nervous Breakdowns.
Tell that to our Maya Angelou's who are screeching like witches United Nations-style poems populated by Cheena Babi Bayee Tonchet Melayu Malas Keling Geragok Mat Salleh.
Tell that to the fakirs of civil obedience, whose headphones are pounding the hooving basslines of Damyata Damyata Damyata.
Tell that to the statue of Li Po at Marina Park.
Tell that to the performance artists who need licences like drivers and doctors and dogs when all they really need is just three percent of your love.
Tell that to the innocent faggot looking for kicks on a Sunday evening to end up sucking the bit-hard pistol-muzzle of the CID, ensnared no less by his weakness for pretty boys naked out of uniform.
Tell that to the caretaker of the grave of Radin Mas.
Tell that to Chee Soon Juan's smirk.
Tell that to the pawns of The Upgrading Empire who penetrate their phalluses into heartlands to plant Lego cineplexes Tupperware playgrounds suicidal balconies carnal parks of cardboard and condoms and before we know it we are a colony once again.
Tell that to Malaysia whose Desaru is our spittoon whose TV2 is our amusement whose Bumiputras are our threat whose outrage is our greater outrage whose turtles are weeping blind in the roaring daylight of our cameras.
Tell that to the old poets who have seen this piece of land slip their metaphors each passing year from bumboats to debris to sanitation projects to drowning attempts to barbed neon water weeds on a river with no reflections a long way off from the sea.

O Singapore your fair shores your garlands your GNP.
You are not a country you are a construction from spare parts.
You are not a campaign you are last year's posters.
You are not culture you are poems on the MRT.
You are not a song you are part swear word part lullaby.
You are not Paradise you are an island with pythons.

Singapore I am on trial.
These are the whites of my eyes and the reds of my wrists.
These are the deranged stars of my schizophrenia.
This is the milk latex gummy moon of my sedated smile.
I have lost a country to images, it is as simple as that.
Singapore you have a name on a map but no maps to your name.
This will not do; we must stand aside and let the Lion crash through a madness of cymbals back to that dark jungle heart when eyes were still embers waiting for a crownless Prince of Palembang.

Friday, June 09, 2006

Back in the Kitchen

After months of being quite lazy and too many McDonald's quickie dinner, I'm back in action. A new colleague had just arrive in Singapore, so I finally had someone to experiment a recipe I had been wanting to make for a long time...

Kylie Kwong's Sweet and Sour Pork


I like the little touches Kylie gives to this classic recipe. The pork itself is coated in a bit of batter and fried til crisp and then dusted with Sichuan pepper and salt. It's the first time I've used the spice, which has a very unique with this wonderful aroma. Kylie uses it a lot in her cooking, at one point her her cookbook using it as part of a 'ritual' performed daily at her restaurant:
Each night we 'smudge' our perfect little dining room by dry-roasting Sichuan peppercorns with sea salt in a hot wok. The aroma and smoke created not only smells divine but also 'cleanses' the air and energy of the space.
The sauce, served on the side, is a wonderfully colorful mix of colors with pineapple, capsicum, tomatoes, ginger and pickled veggies.

We threw together some quick kailan with oyster sauce and there's a nice, Thursday night meal.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Bookish

Sorry it's been a while since I posted, but honestly I've never cooked anything during the hiatus that was worth taking a picture of. Plus there was the trip to the US last month.

Also I've started a new blog, Bookish. It's mainly got all my boringly serious rants on politics, non-fiction books and news in general. I'll try to continue posting here with 'lighter', more personal updates... expect some pictures tomorrow when my friend and I will try to cook a 3 course meal.

PS: I've booked myself a ticket this Friday to see "Invisible Waves" at the reincarnated Picture House. More on that soon too!

Monday, February 06, 2006

The Kidney-Shaped Stone That Moves Every Day

I like this short story by Haruki Murakami - I keeps coming back to my mind somehow at my present state of life.

For me the kidney-shaped stone still sneaks up on me once in a while...

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Life Seems Out of Tune


Joni Mitchell talking during a concert [from the album Miles of Aisles]"

There's one thing that always like... uh... been a major difference between the performing arts to me and being a painter, you know. Like a painter does a painting and he does a painting and that's it. He's had the joy of creating it and hangs it on some wall. Somebody buys it - somebody buys it again or maybe nobody ever buys it and it sits up in a loft somewhere til he dies.

But nobody ever says to him - nobody ever says to Van Gogh, "Paint the starry night again, man." You know, he painted it - that was it. Let sing this song together, okay? This song doesn't sound good with one lonely voice. It sounds good with - the more voices on it the better, the more out of tune voices on it the better. It was made for out of tune singing this song.

******************************************************************

Circle of Life by Joni Mitchell

Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star

Then the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like when you're older must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town
And they tell him take your time it won't be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Random Posts

Random things today...

1. The Economist came out with it's year-end double issue. The debate nerd in me yells out 'Goodie! I can just crawl in bed with this magazine all weekend'. At least I'm not the only one who's an Economist-addict.




2. Holiday shopping again today at Orchard Road. Hyper busy, even more than the weekend. I was going to buy some Royce chocolates for back home but...



Went on another splurge at Kinokuniya - this 20% discount thing is really hurting my pocketbook. The queue at the cashier so long it was scary!

Couldn't even see the check out from the back of the line.

3. Books, books, books

- I went on a Jane Austen marathon for the past few weeks. You really do get hooked on her once you start, you just can't get enough of the elegant and witty dialog, plucky heroines and dreamy happy endings.

- Bought three books the in latest Kino splurge:

  • Istanbul: Memories of a City by Orhan Pamuk... Heard a few good things about this book and I've also begun a little Istanbul obsession after a friend raved about it from a visit (not to mention Tyler Brule).

  • Lord of Light by Roger Zelany. It's a sci-fi classic about gods walking on earth as mere mortals, with a cast that include Buddha (aka Sam), Brahma, Kali and Krishnan.

This book always reminds me of my best friend in elementary school, Ian. I was then a chubby Asian kid in thick glasses, a bit lost in elementary school in Pacific Palisades, CA. We hit it off when we were grouped together with another girl in sixth grade advance math class... he's the guy who introduced me to Asimov and his Foundation series and science fiction in general.

Ah... my nerdy memories...

The last book is The Future of Freedom by Fareed Zakaria, as recommended by Fringer. I'm exceeding impressed with this book, so I think it will warrant its own post.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Back to the Kitchen

Haven't had much inspiration in the kitchen these days... maybe I've reached a point that I have a few sure fire recipes in hand so if I feel lazy (which is most of the time) I can go back to. Hmp...

Been reading this book - Pedant in the Kitchen... and I do feel for the author after I read a few cookbooks myself. He points out, rightly -

Never buy a [cook]book because of its pictures. Never, ever, point to a photo in a cookbook and say, 'I'm going to make that.' You can't. I once knew a commercial photographer who specilized in food and, believe me, the post production work that recently gave us a slimline Kate Winslet is nothing compared to what they do shamelessly to food.

He he... so I present my latest adventures in the kitchen... yawn...


1. 7 Dec - Another lazy boiled rice dinner... I'm gonna try to be a professional menu author this time.



Salad of salted duck eggs, shallots, chili and sweet Chinese sausage with fresh lime dressing. (ยำไข่เค็ม ha ha...)


Wok-fried organic pea sprouts with garlic


Pork sauteed with lightly salted black olives (หนำเลี๊ยบ)

2. 10 Dec - Gingko Nuts in syrup

You might have known from my last post that I brought some nuts home other day. Let me warn you - if you're not sitting in Singapore bored out of your mind like me - buy gingko nuts that are pre-shelled!

It took me in excess of an hour and some sorry looking pulverised gingko nut paste to get this:


Then I had to boil them, and remove the bitter stem (kinda like the young shoot) of the nut. Then just boil in sugar and pandan for another 45 minutes, just out of the microwave:


3. Salad of Italian Sausage, Baby Spinach and Cherry Tomatoes

This accompanied my carbonara the other day. Carrefour has a surprisingly good deli section with tons of coldcuts and cheeses - which is where I found some chirzo for this salad.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Open Magazine Resurrected

Good news, Open Magazine is back! There's a preview version of it online here:

http://www.diarii.com/

Doesn't it look great? More on the background of the whole thing here:

http://pinporamet.blogspot.com/2005/12/open-online.html

The old gang is back I think...

I guess the only one missing is ความน่าจะเป็นบนเส้นขนาน by Prabda and Win... sorry W! Let me digest Mukhom's new article on Arundhati Roy first....

Update: Opps... the column is actually there's... here's the link.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

We're not worth... we're not worthy

Was strolling through the supermarket this evening when made an impulse buy of fresh gingko nuts... I had just treated some guys at the office for birthday lunch and for some reason their yam pudding (oh nee) didn't have any of them nuts. So if I ever get ambitious I might make some this weekend (it would be better if the secret of the whole thing wasn't 2/3 cups of oil per yam), but I'll probably end up boiling them in syrup.



I was back home searching for some recipes, and quite serendipitiously came across this very nice blog, Little Gingko Nut. Of course I'm darn humbled by all the nice food 'Ling' cooked up and also I finally know what a luohan guo looks like.

Thanks to the interconnectedness of the blogosphere, Little Gingko Nut opened a window to a great big community of food blogger. He he... looks like I'm not the only crazy one taking pictures of his food before eating.

Some of the best I've found so far (recipes all included it seems)

  • English Patis - 'A Filipina living in the UK. Dreams of cooking for a living.' Don't we all? I love that she's so eclectic with her food but also lovingly features that the little known cuisine of her country. I love this dessert - sort of like the Thai kao tom mut best eaten but a topping of butter!
  • She Who Eats - Photography in this site positively beautiful it borders on food porn territory. She's based in Japan, but seems to have quite a big interest in Western food, ice cream, jams, tarts and all kinds of desserts.


There's a whole lot more, I think I still need to digest. There's the great big Holiday Cookie Swap. Food crazy in Malaysia with masak-masak.

I guess I should leave you with the immortal words of Wayne and Garth... "We're not worthy... we're not worthy!".

Saturday, December 03, 2005

Blogger vs Ung-aang Talay and other finds

Some new findings in the blogosphere to share with you.

1. Sa·ra·son·teh (http://sanpaworn.vissaventure.com/?s=log)

Through the magic of Googling I rediscovered this blog that I came across a long time ago and found quite engaging, in a weird way. Good clean web design, frequent and timely updates, an engaging, articulate prose style in both Thai and English.

But the draw is that Mr. Tom hold political views completely and utterly in opposition to mine!

  • He despises the Democrats and their demagougery.
  • He accuses Anand Panyarachun of Kerry-esque flip-flopping. Anand! Doesn't like his speeches much either.
  • He's not too fond of the Nation. Nor the Post. Nor any media outlet apparently.

Reading him makes me feel a bit annoyed, but if you read pass the venom for his pet hates and his ranting, of course he make some good points. Good exercise for me since I've been afraid that my media consumption is sometimes skewed towards people who hold pretty much the same view as I do.

*****************************************************

This post is a classic - our blogger attempts to take down the New York Times, food writers R.W. Apple and our very own “Ung-aang Talay” at the same time!

So there's the typical opiniated dressing down and nit-picking... which is probably a right given to bloggers everywhere.

Loyal blog-fan 'poststaffer' joins in with the chorus and so it goes. But the absolute twist of the narrative comes with the list of the comments - the Ung-aang himself has the final word. I can imagine Mr. Halliday, the season journalist, sitting at his computer composing half with anger and then with no little joy with vignettes like this:

Mr Vamvanit seems to view humankind from a very lofty perspective, indeed, so lofty in fact that it makes me wonder just how he was raised and educated. There is some consolation in the realization that those motorcycle taxi drivers (who, incidentally, seem to be expert papaya choppers) would probably find Mr
Vamvanit just as distasteful, with his Chez Michel and his Connecticut phat thai and his more-farang-than-the-farangs, dek nawk posturings.


Hehe... you'd never what can happen over in blogosphere. More on Ung-aang-talay later

2. Mr Wang Bakes Good Karma (http://www.commentarysingapore.blogspot.com/)

Maybe he's a bit Singapore specific, but I like Mr Wang's gentle style of commentating on current affairs.

3. The Reader's Eye (http://readerseye.blogspot.com/)

A poetry blog. The decor is littered with Degas, Van Gogh, Matisse - may be a bit too classy for my tastes, but I do like the simple poetry. One of my favorites here - "A Completely Safe, Good Poem".

Maybe after years of trying, I'm more ready now to appreciate poetry. Maybe it comes with age and a bit of patience.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Pizza Dinner

I'm back cooking again, courtesy of Jamie Oliver. Thanks to some very kind friends, who generously gave me his new book, Jamie's Italy.

It's nice to finally have some company for dinner. The new fellow expat is a big eater, he likes to cook plus finds everything tastely. Just listen to him rave at the food at the local Kopitiam.

We cooked some pizzas with two toppings (salami/ zucchini/ basil and anchovies/ capers/ chili/ parsley). A nice rocket and cherry tomato salad to go along with it. Turned out quite well I should say.


Tuesday, November 29, 2005

The End Game

Another timely article from Chang Noi on Thaksin vs Sondhi. 'Two and a half' theories on what's really behind the conflict. Personally I think it's probably a mix of 'Democracy and the Last Straw' and that last half an explanation concerning the old guard.

And surprisingly the Nation website, has suddenly introduced a splash screen purporting to know 'The Truth about Thaksin and Sondhi'.

Nation - Thaksin vs Sondhi

The article begins with a bold understatement in it's very own paragrah: "It’s not all about media freedom and democracy." After a few weeks of generally lambasting the government on press freedom and, in my feeling, hiding their uneasiness with the tactics and credibility of its main critic, the editors seem to be more open now about it.

Snippets:

The conflict between Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra and media owner Sondhi
Limthongkul is driven mainly by business interest as the latter lost his cash cow in the government’s corral before he started firing a series of salvos at his former friend.

....

He has never told the public that business interest was the driving force in his movement against Thaksin.

...

Despite being no good for the nation as a whole, Sondhi’s royalist rhetoric is actually working...


...

Another thought about the whole line of thought comes from optimistic Dr. Chaianant Samudvanija, writing in his column on Sondhi's Manager Daily.

ผมทำนายว่า สนธิจะเพลาการพูดถึงพระเจ้าอยู่หัวลง แต่จะหยิบยกเรื่องการขัดกันด้านผลประโยชน์ของรัฐ และตัวทักษิณมาพูดมากขึ้น เวลานี้เมืองไทยเราโชคดีที่มีสนธิมาทำหน้าที่แทนฝ่ายค้าน เพราะฝ่ายค้านเอง ประชาชนมองว่าเป็นการเมือง ดังนั้น ส.ส.พรรคไทยรักไทยจึงพยายามโยงสนธิกับพรรคประชาธิปัตย์

I predict that Sondhi will gradually cease to bring His Majesty into the debate, but still bring up issues related to Thaksin's conflict of interest. At this say and age, Thailand is lucky that Sondi assume the duty of the parlimentary opposition - the real opposition is viewed by the people as partisan and it's no wonder why TRT MPs would try to link Sondhi to the Democrats.

Hmm... ain't we all lucky to have a non-elected, just out of bankruptcy media tycoon representing our interests? Hehe...

So how will this grand confrontation play itself out? I myself am anxious to see what the King himself will say on his birthday speech. My gut feel his theme will be one of peace and compromise, and he will take us back to the problems in the South.

And couldn't you help but get the feeling that Sondhi has so over reached himself and is trying to remain calm on the back of a runaway tiger? Expect a strategic retreat coming soon.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

KL Trip



I was over in KL for some training and a short weekend break. Hadn't really been looking forward to trip, but it turned out to be surprisingly fun.

It helps that I had good company, some hard partying seniors from my office in Bangkok and some guys on project in Malaysia. Some places we visited:

1. First night after the obligatory dinner pahr-tay and hobnobbing with some partners, we headed to Zouk (see left). The KL outpost is housed in a curvy modernist interpretation of those whitewashed houses you see on Greek islands. Except with the oh-so-hip shifting color lighting effect.

A bit weird for me since I never set foot in the original Zouk in Singapore, but we settled in for some drinks at Velvet Underground. I came back a bit early, but heard that one of the guys had to be carried back to the hotel...

2. Misc. shopping.

- We went up KLCC and it's hugh, posh mall. Embarassing to say I spent a bit too much time at Kinokuniya, and got my first graphic novel. It's probably the most beautifully designed book I ever got.

- Sungei Wang, the MBK of KL. Got DVDs of Six Feet Under season 5 (I loved the series finale by the way).

- IKEA. Okay, they have one in Singapore, but I tagged along with my friends. Of course I didn't want to buy anything and of course I ended up with a two bags of stuff. Got the perfect pitcher mixing my (virgin) bloody marys (left).

3. Alexis Bistro and Wine Bar. Seriously delicious cakes plus live music. Nice to hear some jazzed up version of Christmas classics... is it really another year going by already?

4. Waraku, this Japanese place. We had some pre-drinks nibbles here and the mango/tuna rolls a to die for!

5. Starhill Gallery's basement hi-so food palace. More food at this Tapas Bar. I've gotta learn how to make my own Sangria!

6. Frangipani, the bar for more drinks. Love the music at this place.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

October

A quick weekend back home (again) - last week before W goes back again to US. I feel some how faintly sad and nostalgic, a bit like reaching the last few days of summer vacation when I was a kid.

So except for my Hugo Boss suit procurement fiasco, we had a quiet weekend. If it were a movie, the soundtrack would be something like Scrubb's new album. Mid-tempo, not too rowdy. Something like this song...



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Then came Sunday and I became a bit annoy with another 'those darn kids these days' op-ed pieces...

A survey... revealed that the young people had an utter lack of understanding of the events of October 14, let alone their significance.

That’s understandable. Kids today don’t really read that much of anything. Not only do they not read about history, but very few seem to even partake in general reading of books or newspapers.

Until I realized they were kinda right... did I really know enough about the specifics of this troubling period in recent Thai history? So I set out instinctively to a bookstore in Bangkok, hoping to see some books corner dedicated to it - I mean it's the aniversary after all.

I came back home disappointed, there wasn't a single book on the subject in the whole store (but then I guess I should expect much from Se-ed). I guess kids these days don't have a chance!

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Some consolation prizes:

  • Open Books came out with another issue of their October series, collections of essays on current Thai politics/economics/society.
  • Sarakadee magazine with a special on the 14 October incident in which they choose not to focus the student leaders or the military adversaries, but tracked down the largely anonymous people who were part of the huge wave of protesters involved.

Haven't read the mag yet, but I've mostly gone through October. I was struck with one article, a criticism of the whole Royal Power hoopla by Professor Thongchai Winichakul. A no-nonsense rebuttal and new perspective - as a historian he reminds us how the excuse of royal powers were use to do pretty mean things...

Before going crazy with Pramuan's book, we should study how horribly Pridi Phanomyong had suffered at the hands of the royalists especially during 1946-49. The great irony is that some of the advocates for enhancing the royal power tell the story of Pridi working hand in hand with the royals for the enhanced royal power. Ridiculous" would be my softest comment on these royalist pretenders.

All this got me interested in Prof. Thongchai, so of course I Googled him. I was surprised to learn that he was one of the student leaders during the October events. After the student uprising, he was jailed by the military before being released into self-exile, first in Australia then eventually winding up in the US.

Chang Noi here compares his fate with another prominent student leader, Thirayuth Boonmee:

Thongchai Winichakul was prominent in October 1976 when the army violently suppressed student radicalism. Since then, he has become the most feted modern Thai historian in the international arena. But he has been removed from Thai society - first by jail, and then by self-exile. He functions now as a distant spirit who resides most of the time in the remote chilly regions of north America. He can be summoned up from time to time only by the proper spirit mediums (conference organisers). He is a disorderly spirit who concentrates the chaotic energies from bad events in the past. His role is to stir things up, to spread doubt, to challenge any slide to complacency, to remind the optimistic reformers just how difficult their task truly is.


Also came across this touching account of his trying to come to terms with the past when meeting with a photojournalist who covered the October events.

Twenty-six and a half years later, Thongchai Winichakul runs his fingers across the gloss of a black-and-white photograph that lies on his desk, on the fifth floor of the Humanities Building. A UW-Madison professor of history, he has the furrowed visage of a man who constantly battles the past — one who unearths it, who turns it in his hands, who works to discover its textures and blemishes. He speaks with a seriousness that conveys that history — his history — is not always pretty to behold.

The image on the page beneath Thongchai's finger tips is just visible.

It depicts a young man being dragged across the ground by a piece of cloth around his neck...


That picture is of his friend, Jaruphong, who lost his life in the massacre. Someone whose death Thongchai, as a student leader, could not but feel responsible for.

Like many others who survived the massacre, he wrapped himself in a cocoon of guilt and shame, feeling somehow responsible for it all.

"The massacre was so bitter ... lots of my friends blame themselves," he says. "Me, too. Not in the sense that we made people die. We are rational enough to know that. But still, we are part of it." Fear and indecision kept them from resolving past issues, including telling Jaruphong's parents that their son was dead. "We were cowards," he explains. And even if they had had the courage, they couldn't find the words.


His story reflect maybe the 'tact' with which we as a nation talk about the events. So is it the fault of kids these days for not caring, when the older generation still finds it so hard to talk about all this in a straight forward manner?