during lunch, choonping lamented to me that they were given an alfian sa'at "poem" to analyse in class, one so devoid in meaning that reading it was like un-reading several good shakespearean sonnets. we decided (as we have several times in the past) that the sorry state of singaporean literature is due in large part to the existence of the creative arts programme and the fact that the writers who emerge from it are often as about as creative as dr. sbaitso. (ok, fine. there are some exceptions. *ducks accusing glares*)

coincidentally enough, i was on the mrt later on when this ri fella got on at bishan, fished a CAP notebook and pen out of his bag, and picked up writing what was obviously a short story/novella of some kind. incapable of minding my own business (as usual), i said hi, and told him that if he ever intended to write, he really ought to quit the CAP ASAP (heh).

why? he asked.

i told him.

oh, he said. well, i'm not in the CAP anyway. i went for a seminar and got this notebook free.

good for you, i said.

and he continued with his work, obviously convinced that i was some kind of a nutjob.

which is probably not far from the truth.