Inside jokes - The French Crow

The French Crow was written because i wanted to change my msn nick from "je m'en fous. je ne veux que chier." to "I'm bored because I'm hard to pleased", and I wanted to write a story to incorporate the french that I had learnt from a friend, so that I won't forget it.

I had wanted to write a simple situation to contextualise the french words, but I was meaning to write a story about how mynahs - as i've noticed nowadays - were flying around in pairs. Like some kind of neighbourhood watch programme. Anyway, my mind and thoughts twitched around and then I chose to write on crow instead. Somehow, in my subconscious, there was also a lady in a red dress in the background. But she wasn't addressed and perhaps, it'll be explored in the mynah story that I might one day write.

Anyway, I think "The french crow" sounds nicer than "the french mynah". The french crow, sounds like something, the french knot, the french horn, the french man? I don't know. The mynah should be malay. The malay mynah - like the malay minah you know? I don't mean to offend. I would also write a story on the chinese pigs. Oh, in fact, I might have already. My pig stories: Sus, and Uncle Hock were both based on chinese characters in my head. Though I concede that is not obvious in the stories. Fine, i'll write one someday.

The first part of the story, waking up to be frightened by a crow - was based on a nightmare I had some years ago. I dreamt that I woke up, and there was a claymation kind of crow scaring the shit wits out of me. So, recalling that, I decided to write the story with that beginning, and see how it goes.

"Je m'en fous. Je ne veux que chier." (pronounced "jer mong foo. jer ner ver ker shi-eh.") means, "I don't care. I only want to shit." I decided to leave most people wondering what that means as it was not so important to translate it in the story, and will be funnier left as an insider joke, and rewarding for people who are reading sneak... so there you have it. It's funny also because that's what the crows do, on trees, they just don't care and just shit on the cars below. It's also a marvel how being on a tree full of crows, they don't shit on each other. I mean, the chances are there right?

Anyway, thanks to laysuan (also my kusudama friend) for teaching me, abeit reluctantly, the coolest bit of french that I know. Enculé (pronounced "on cue leh") is just too vulgar to spout all the time.

Crow in French is "corneille", according to the google translator. So happens, with a dictionary search that Corneille is also Pierre Corneille who is one of the great seventeenth century french playwright. So, I just named the crow "Pierre" (pronouced "Pee-air") which is a variant of the name "Peter". Peter the crow, a black bird, reminded me of the rhyme:

"2 little black birds sitting on a wall,
One named peter, the other named paul.
Fly away peter, fly away paul.
Come back peter, come back paul."

So, the left middle finger, we decided to name paul. It's cute like that.

The rest of the story was constructed on the go. I like it because it's spontaneous, and the story developed in a way that I didn't anticipate, so I was also surprised as I was writing it.

One of my accomplishments of the week is to name my middle fingers. What have you done, huh?

Wind series - The champedek tree

The champedek tree is one of three stories that I wrote about flying in a single day. I've been moved by the winds lately.

As you may know, I've been looking for jobs and all that lately. My biggest sianness, I think, at the end of both interviews I went for, is that, the weather on that day was nice, but I was unable to enjoy the wind earlier because i was ganjionging about the interviews.

I hope that I can have the good fortune and calmness to appreciate the weather. And I hope that you have that too. Take a bit of time, to notice how the mid-day winds are blowing trees upside-down, and chasing clouds so fast across the sky. it's not like that all the time. it's a very rare thing. Notice how the clouds are wispy looking because of the wind.

Notice too, when the moon is round, and when it's waxing and waning. That it's milky/dusty/yellowy earlier in the night, but as it rises higher into the sky, it's bright white. A few nights ago, I noticed that the moon was so bright white that even when some clouds were blew to cover it, it didn't get covered but shone right true. That defies logic.

Who isn't busy and pre-occupied nowadays? Don't I have better things to do? I do! I need to look for a job. Prepare for interviews. Apply. I need to sell my book. I need to read, I need to blog, I need to eat and watch tv.

But how can you be a human and live life, if you don't spend some time to look at the moon. The moon! the moon allows us to look (not point). THe sun you can't really look, but the moon! find the rabbit. Rather than going jogging and worry about your adrenaline or your heart muscle, look at the moon! look at the stars, the clouds at night. and put up paper butterflies at your window, and romance yourself a little.

I've met a girl who was about 20 years old, when I walked past her in hall, she was starring at the moon. and i asked her, wassup. and she said, "you can see the moon, i didn't know we can see the mood". i said, "what do you mean, as in, you didn't know we can see the moon in this direction?" "no," she said, "I didn't know we can see the moon, without telescope." or something like that. I shit you not. SO, if you have kids, teach them not math, nor the dreaded spelling or mental sums. teach them to appreciate the MOON. the winds, the paper butterflies you put up at their windows.

I wanted to keep all these as little secrets to impress you next time we meet. But I don't think it's a secret to keep, but something to share. Look at the moon, and sing "somewhere out there, beneath the pale moon light, someone's thinking of... me, and loving me tonight". And be happy that we're not Seng Han Thong, or Palestinians watching the sky raining bombs or Isrealis, fighting a war, fending off protestors around the world.

Read somewhere lately, that world peace lies with the individual. Only when every individual believes in the concept and values "world peace", then will world peace be lived.

Current affairs, personal opinions - The Elephants' Tusks

The Elephants' Tusks was based on:

1) The warring in the middle east. And how a way of supremacy of the religion is exemplified by the tolerance of the people. I have many thoughts about tolerance and it being an underrated virtue.
Maybe the westernised world would emphasis a lot about go-getting and not getting yourself bullied, and very individualistic ideals. But tolerance would bring about graciousness. I personally think believe that instead of campaigns promoting graciousness and Stomp being the society's not-so-secret police, they promote tolerance instead, then we'll all be more gracious. It's not gracious to kaopei about others not being gracious. But when one tolerates another ungraciousness, as opposed to being self-righteous, then one would be inclined not to act in the same way. and... so on. Anyway, that's another theory for another time.

The warring in the middle east. I wanted to write a story where in an alternate world, there's peace in the middle east.

2) And that even if there's peace, there will be disorder again. Peace and disorder, will play and interject each other. The rise and fall of civilisations. blah blah. it's something that will continue to happen, whether obama or mccain become president. Current affairs - are current and not perpetual. Learning it to have conversations at the water cooler is like watching korean drama to have conversations about korean drama. Or joining facebook, to talk about what's happening on facebook. That's what I always feel about current affairs, and will be pekchek when people ask me to brush up on my current affairs, because it really doesn't interest me what, except juicy details like, why mccain go and choose palin - which is as entertaining to wonder about as watching Yes Man by jim carrey.

Anyway, whether the snail/slugs die out or not, it's a passing matter, in the very macrospect. Like how the wiping out of an ant hill is very trivial, when we're kids on an ant massacre. Or it could be very big deal - to an ant.

3) Read a story from zhuang zi, on nations being on snail's antennae, which I quote, violating copyright laws, from here:

(King) Yung of Wei made a treaty with the marquis Thien Mâu (of Khî), which the latter violated. The king was enraged, and intended to send a man to assassinate him...

Hui-tsze...introduced to the king Tâi Tsin-zan, who said, 'There is the creature called a snail; does your majesty know it?' 'I do.' 'On the left horn of the snail there is a kingdom which is called Provocation, and on the right horn another which is called Stupidity. These two kingdoms are continually striving about their territories and fighting. The corpses that lie on the ground amount to several myriads. The army of one may be defeated and put to flight, but in fifteen days it will return.' The king said, 'Pooh! that is empty talk!' The other rejoined, 'Your servant begs to show your majesty its real significance. When your majesty thinks of space-- east, west, north, and south, above and beneath-- can you set any limit to it?' 'It is illimitable,' said the king; and his visitor went on, 'Your majesty knows how to let your mind thus travel through the illimitable, and yet (as compared with this) does it not seem insignificant whether the kingdoms that communicate one with another exist or not?' The king replies, 'It does so;' and Tâi Tsin-zan said, finally, 'Among those kingdoms, stretching one after another, there is this Wei; in Wei there is this (city of) Liang; and in Liang there is your majesty. Can you make any distinction between yourself, and (the king of that kingdom of) Stupidity?' To this the king answered, 'There is no distinction,' and his visitor went out, while the king remained disconcerted and seemed to have lost himself.

I thought about saying that that slug/snails are peace-loving because their antennae housed warring nations. but the story just didnt' turn out liek that.

Now, talking about the elephants tusks doesn't seem that original as compared to a snail's antennae right? I think about changing the elephants back to snails and snails to somethign else, but the story won't flow anymore. The snails don't have trunks. and they won't need to feed each other. so... i suppose my story took a different direction already.

4) Watched man in black on tv again, and the idea of universes being as small as a marble on a cat's collar made me feel that there can be universes with elephants and little animals living on them, and so on. Where is the world of little elephants? maybe in the dirt in my toe nail.
Relevant to the big-small thing as in point 2.

Happy new year to all~.

Should he eat the dog - The poor little boy

The poor little boy was inspired by learning how to clean candle holders. If I weren't shown, then I wouldn't have known that can just pour hot water to melt the candle wax.

Did the poor little boy eat the dog? What do you think?

*

That is the question posed by the story is should the poor little boy bring the dead dog home to his mother to eat?

Yes, because the dog is dead and now there is no more dog, and there is only meat.
Yes, because his mother is hungry and the boy is filial.
No, because a filial son should not bring home the moral dilemma to test his mother.

No, because what if they become addicted to the taste of sweet meat and then will go dog hunting one day?
No, because the boy killed the dog, and one should not eat anything whose killing was done by one's own hands - like a tiger in the zoo should not be fed live prey - it'd awaken the animal instinct.

Yes, because if the boy was resilient, the animal instinct wouldn't be easily awakened or at least, it won't be perpetuated.

Yes, because the killing was unintentional, and now a dead dog is just a dead dog.

No, because the dead dog was meant for insects to eat, and everything has its own place in the world. Dead dog feeds maggots. and humans don't eat dogs?

Yes, because humans used to eat dogs prevalently. and the story was set in once upon a time.

No, because nowadays, it's inhumane to eat dogs.
Yes, because it's a dog, it's not a human. It's inhumane to eat pigs and cows too. And grasshoppers and cockroaches.

No, because a dog is closer to humans than to the animals reared for food.

Yes, because that's by today's standards? Ethics evolve across time.

*

The above is my dilemma as writer of the story. I quite often write and think of the consistency of the characters in this manner, but in the case of the poor boy, I couldn't resolve it for myself, and think it is better to invite the reader to decide... so I left the ending open.

By the way - By the way series

By the way series of photographs are taken by the way - I was travelling on a road, and I take the pictures. Many of which are from philippines.

My photos are usually unedited because I'm too lazy to edit. So the cropping may be strange. And the colour of the photo may be a little off depending on how clean the car windows were.

Thought long about the title of the collection, until "by the way" occurred to me. I like it, because of the double/triple meanings. Cheap thrills keeps the boring day going.

This part is true - Spaces

Spaces... loosely based on falling asleep in class.

Debated about the title: Spaces or paces, which is an anagram for space. but decided on spaces because of the spaces in time, spaces in between paces, spaces in between consciousness, and spacing out in class...

This part of the story is true:

I had to wake up this morning to check my emails and my bank account on the internet.

Because I don't have to travel to work nowadays, I just wake up every morning and pop on the computer immediately.

I remember someone asking before, where does all the time go to? The time we save from not needing to mail things and using word processors and travel to the bank. The time saved from modern conveniences.

So I printed a book - All the people imagine

So I printed a book. You can find out about the book here. It's a slip-shot website that I created about the book and its collection details.

I haven't directly addressed my book production in both meekfreak/sneakspeak. Perhaps I don't know how to begin. I don't quite yet know why I'm addressing now. Perhaps I think I should address it because it's just this huge personal episode for me, but this has happened in such a rapid cascade of events that I don't quite have the time to think what should be said properly, or what are the answers that people want to hear. What do you want to know? Ask me. Or else I don't know what should be said.

Today I spent about half an hour, waiting underneath a tree. I was listening to some Thai pop rock and thought about how lucky I am. When I was home, I found a green caterpillar on my arm. I hope that there aren't any caterpillars in my hair. I flicked it away and then picked it up with a piece of toilet paper, and then I carefully threw the toilet paper out of my bedroom window. I knocked my head against the back of my window, because I was standing on the table so to reach as far out as possible. Poor caterpillar. Displaced. I hope it doesn't feel too lonely. I hope it is not even aware of how lonely it must be.

And I was scrolling around the internet, looking for something to read but I didn't find any. Then I thought that meekfreak/sneakspeak are also huge personal episodes for me, so I'd just try to write something, in case anyone wants to read.

I left my job about 5 months ago. I printed a book and am running out of money. Today's newspapers' headlines were about how the jobmarket is going to suck for the next few months. My mother had asked me if I regret leaving my job. If I were still at it, I would have been there for 2 years come 12th Dec. I remember such things. But I don't remember the birthday of my best friends. I've concluded that I'm a workaholic. But I do love my friends. I don't even remember the birthday of my grandmother. But I do love her. This is a picture of my grandmother.


It was taken a few years ago, when she was healthy enough to make dumplings for the occasion. Those were the best dumplings I've ever tasted, and I suspect, they will be the best that I'll ever taste. I don't know how to make dumplings. But I recently heard about why Mr Qu Yuan killed himself. Apparently, if I remember correctly, he did it to protect his ideals. He believed in the country he worked for (he was a statesman/advisor to the king), but because he knew the country was going to fall, and if he was to watch his country fall, his ideals would smash against the rocks like waves on the shore. So he smashed his head instead, against the rocks of the river bed. Now we all have dumplings to eat. I'm taking for granted that everybody knows dumplings were what the people made to feed the fishes so that they won't feed on Qu Yuan's dead body.

My ah ma is very proud of me that I have printed my book. She doesn't understand English but she would sometime surprise me by knowing some alphabets and understanding snippets of English conversations.

I told her, that now that I've printed the book, I feel that it's no big deal. I have no reason to act humble in front of my grandma, but I really feel that it's a matter of going to the printer with some essays and paying them to print. Sometimes, I have this strange tendency to trivialise my accomplishments. But then again, at the same time, I also know that it's been an arduous undertaking and it's arduous in a way that it cannot be fully articulated, and therefore, perhaps, the effort deserves no further validation. Are you confused? I beg your pardon. I am confused too.

How do I feel? I feel about one hundred levels of emotions that I cannot accurately discern apart.

Some friends reminded me that they are happy to see that the book is finally out. I have been talking about it since forever. (I have records that I wanted to have finished a book more than 5 years ago.) I am embarrassed that it is done so late. But I am comforted that I have friends who are with me for more than 5 years, and who are simply happy for me to see that I've fulfilled my "dream" of producing a book. and to remind me, that simply to have produce them is success already, even if I just stuff them underneath my bed, and then underneath my corpse in my coffin when I finally die.

Indeed. Perhaps now I can say, with this little bit more credibility, if there's anything you want to do, just do it. (I may add that after you do it, you may feel that it was nothing much too, but then again, you may be different from me - you may feel great, or you may feel shittier. Even I may feel different about it tomorrow.) But just go and do it lor. It's not hard to start taking the little steps towards it. It's like stepping stones across a torrent river. Looking at the river - it's fucking scary. But just concentrate on the next stone and worry about the next next stone later. If anyone asks me for any advice, I think that's the best one that I can offer up now.

Some very patient friends, I cannot thank them enough, had to suffer my repetitive questions, that were simply begetting reassurance under the pretence of being rhetorical. How wonderful is life to have people like that around.

And the excitement now lies in what people think about the stories, how they can stand up for themselves. Can they stand up for themselves? When you read them, don't just read into how it has been a fierce undertaking for me, read them for themselves. I hope they stand up for themselves. They are my children. Now that they've been put to print, I can only hope that they'll be independent and make a living for themselves. That's me - I'm a mother like that. Of course I hope that they'll be accomplished in their field. But if they're not, I can't help it either, right? I will be disappointed, but I will not be ashamed. Is that how mothers feel like? I bet some mothers feel ashamed. I hope I won't feel ashamed.

On occasions, I likened my anxieties and the entire experience as a crab (crab eat rotten meat) that sits on my heart and tear off and nibble at the throbbing muscle that's probably sickened by the paranoia and the panic that ran amok. I don't quite know how the analogy works. But I don't want to explain too much.

These are just some examples of how I feel.

My sentiments about putting the book together, accompanied by my instinctive rambling style, could be compiled into a fucking telephone directory - and it may be just as boring to read. The way ahead is curious, exciting, and as scary as... the first day in primary one, except that I'm not in primary one, and there's nobody in my class, and I'm 26 and I am aware of how crazy I feel.

I take comfort that my loved ones and, those who love me, are standing outside the classroom, peering through the window, wishing me well.

The strange thing in my case, is that I am also standing outside a classroom, looking at my children - the stories - perform their first piano recital, or oral examination, or taking their first baby steps - performing for their audiences - who may or may not be my friends who are watching me outside the window of my classroom. It's like living in a M.C. Escher world.

I wish them well, too, and even though they may be like the caterpillar who doesn't know to be afraid at all, I sure am nervous like hell. I did write them, afterall.

I take a deep breath.

Come on, wish me good luck. Luck - one could always do with more good luck.

To the cockroach - The Snake Renter

The Snake Renter, is loosely written in response to the teachings of yu dan on zhuang zi. Bought a set of 5 vcd that was on sale ($15) that featured 10 half hour lectures, on taoist philosophy. I figured I'd never get down to reading it, and the internet doesn't say much. and even when I'm going to read, i need to read in english, and when zhuangzi was in mandarin, it's actually nicer to understand it by the mandarin language first hand...etc. it was a good purchase.

The snake renter is inspired by what yu dan said about this zen teaching:

(禅宗有这样一句话，叫做)“眼内有尘三界窄，心头无事一床宽”。眼睛里要是有事，心中就有事，人就会看得“三界窄”。三界是什么？前生，此际，来世。只要你眼里的事化不开，心里成天牵挂着，你就会把前生来世、上辈子下辈子都抵押进去。但是，如果你胸怀开朗，心头无事，用不着拥有多大的地盘，坐在自 家的床上，你都会觉得天地无比宽阔。

Which translates loosely like this:
眼 eye 内 inside 有 have 尘 dust 三 three 界 world (lives) 窄 narrow，
心 heart 头 head 无 no have 事 things 一 one 床 bed 宽 wide.
If you have a little thing bothering you, then even the three lives (past life, present life, future life) will seem narrow. If you have no care in your heart, then even the bed will be wide to you.

Then one recent night, i lost sleep because before I slept, I saw a baby cockroach at the foot of my bed. I tried to catch it with a box, but it was too fast for the little box and my clumsy frantic incompetent self.

Snake renter because renter means:

rent·er (rntr)

n.

1. One that receives payment in exchange for the use of one's property by another.

2. One that pays rent for the use of another's property; a tenant.

He is one that receives payment - for the cockroach's money and the woman's company.
But he pays rent too - to the woman by being her food. And that he dies - he never owned the cave - he was also renting it.

I don't think it's because the snake is stupid, but he was just acting according to his nature/character (as a personality not the attributed stereotyped characteristics of a snake), as was the cockroach, as was the woman. And the story developed in this way because nature took its course.

I dedicate this story to the cockroach that was under my bed, and as is in my nature/character, I wish for it to be gone by yesterday!

Real brain worms - The earthworms

Secret Report - The Earthworms was actually written in 2007, i just didn't post it up then, I think because i was lazy to edit it. Apparently, this morning, I heard the radio reported that a woman had a worm in her brain. It's quite common. I don't remember if i did any research on it beforehand, but here are some links from goggle anyway. This is a good and informative video, on how common the parasite is, how it gets transmitted, and that there's actually a medicine you eat and kill the brainworm. The below, the video on the woman reported this morning, i think, less info, more hoo-hah-near death experience my life got meaning now-thing.




The idea of the brain worms... well, i suppose the brain-shape and the bumps are like very worm like. The secret reports resembles the reports i wrote, e.g. The shit king report, in 2006.

On a personal note - Mr Creosote

Mr Creosote got his name from a Monty Python character, from Monty Python's The meaning of life, who was repulsive and puked and ate and... you can watch the video on the youtube below. He drives me nuts!



hm... MINDER's Mr Creosote is different though, turned out that he is slimmer. But somewhat disgusting too. Kept the name as a little tribute, link, whatever. hmm... maybe he's a younger version of monty python's original, or a very distant cousin's very distant kid. Whatever. Been meaning to write this story since sometime in Sept/Oct, following USED II: MINDER - an introduction, but it was too hard for me to just keep working on the same story line just for the sake of it, i'll just end up rushing it and it won't be nice to write/read. So, apparently, USED shall be written as a series whenever the time is right.

On a personal note, the snot-falling-on-the-sandwich-held-in-mouth bit was inspired when I had a sandwich in my mouth and occupied hands and my nose was itchy. BUT i didn't eat my snot. Not that it's poisonous. or that I am against anyone who ever did eat their snot, but I personally did not.