a sunset

pubs (not that kind)

A couple people over the past few weeks said they might like to look at some of my papers -- you can take a gander at this page if you're interested. Link is also up on the sidebar.

conned

it is of course at the very moment that i decide to start reading daredevil, a title the brother assured me had no crossovers or company-wide shenanigans, that marvel comes up with this shadowland nonsense that spans 5 months and crosses over into about 80 bazillion other titles. thanks a lot, dude. next time DC does a company-wide event i'm going to mailbomb you with .cbrs of every last issue, which knowing DC will probably come to 2.5 terabytes.

some things never change

Singapore, A Biography, p141-142:

In addition, as Singapore grew in size after 1870, it began to offer its European arrivals a considerably improved social life. Even by the 1860s, John Cameron, editor of the Straits Times, had written of a colonial lifestyle that 'may be set down as luxurious, and this to a degree that could not well be indulged at home on similar means'. The problem with this lifestyle, as Cameron went on to observe, was that it so completely lacked variety. European life in Singapore revolved around an eternal consumption of food and drink: dawn coffee and biscuits; the nine o'clock breakfast of curry and rice; tiffin-time around midday and the first glass of beer or claret; then finally more curry, wine or beer, throughout the dinner hour from six o'clock. On the completion of their working day, many younger members of the European community did 'resort to the fives-court or the cricket ground on the esplanade', while on Tuesday and Friday nights the whole community turned out for Esplanade band nights. Nonetheless, in the 1860s Cameron still yearned for a more sophisticated social intercourse as was 'usual at home, and in most other parts of the world'. It was a source of some regret to him 'that the people of Singapore so determinedly set their faces against every sort of entertainment which does not include a dinner'.

a stupid thought while passing burger king

have you ever pondered over how much of the world's supply of ketchup actually gets eaten? i mean, everyone takes more ketchup than they need for fries, and it gets left behind on fast food trays or on the bottom of those silly plastic cups they sometimes give you. or there are the last bits that you can't squeeze out of the little ketchup packets unless you're one of those compulsive people who squeezes from the bottom and rolls them up as you go, and even then. and that's if you even get round to opening the little packet in the first place -- think of the number of them that just get tossed. then there's ketchup left at the bottom and sides of the bottles in diners and people's homes, and ketchup that just molders away in pantries for decades because they couldn't resist buying 120 bottles at costco at one go. you know, i wouldn't be at all surprised if there's a 1:1 ratio of wasted ketchup to ketchup that actually makes it into a stomach. a tragic waste indeed.

even though my blog has a current readership of, like, two (2), i'd like to go ahead and put a plug out there for comics world singapore, which is not only wonderful but now also the only show in town for "western" comics since comics mart shut down. of course, my standard have been lowered a fair bit by living near probably the only comic book store in the world to not actually sell any comics at all.

Peter Brooks, Professor at Yale, Reading for the Plot: Design and Intention in Narrative:

Our lives are ceaselessly intertwined with narrative, with the stories that we tell and hear told, those we dream or imagine or would like to tell, all of which are reworked in that story of our own lives that we narrate to ourselves in an episodic, sometimes semiconscious, but virtually unlimited monologue. We live immersed in narrative, recounting and reassessing the meaning of our past actions, anticipating the outcome of our future projects, situating ourselves at the intersection of several stories not yet completed.

NUS is like one of those escher-esque impossible staircases where no matter which way you turn you're headed uphill. also: terribly large. also: not for people with no sense of direction.

following the wisdom of those who have gone before me, i'm going to refrain from making any comments on the new workplace other than the completely neutral, lest i be discovered by online googlestalkers and taken for either being disloyal or sycophantic. suffice it to say that [                                                   ] and that, compared to the ex- and ex-ex-lab, this one is rather
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i hate to this say this, but it's really quiet and lonely at home. i used to be so good with solitude.

***

got lost today trying to look for maxwell market. my own stupid fault really -- it's not that anything has changed all that much around there, but i tried to be clever and cut through side streets, and ended up in a hopeless muddle. i suspect that parts of my hippocampus just died or exploded over the past few years, or got annexed to learn useless stuff about neuroanatomy.

***

am reading singapore: a biography, which is good except that i could only find a hardcover edition that weighs down my bag like gangbusters.

i have been definitively spoiled by the luxury of space in our house in philly; the room here feels small, and is filled with stuff that is Not Mine. also, for the first time i'm noticing how many cars go by on the expressway, day and night -- and what a silly thing to "notice" for someone who's been a city kid all his life! -- but it was quiet in the mews, except for the ambulance sirens at night (not kidding). i suppose it will become background before long, but for now the traffic is a constant symphony, motorcycle crescendoes on top of a recurring motif of growls from the trucks and public buses. i slept with the window open last night and woke in some confusion at 6:45 to its already-furious pace, not entirely sure where i was; the sky was just turning light, i was desperately hungry, and home -- whatever that is -- was never further away.

a new chapter, a new template. sidebar won't be 100% up and running for a bit though.

back in the police state. the more times i come and go, the more life seems like one colossal joke, which i suppose is not the worst thing. have a lot of stuff to do, but everything is kind of interlaced like one giant LSAT logic puzzle where some events have to happen on certain days, some must precede others, but only on a saturday etc. also: frighteningly poor until my first paycheck comes in, which is not until the end of august. ugh.

have already begun to realize that folks here don't understand the concept of doctors who aren't medical doctors -- it's like minz's recent experience of no one knowing what an alumnus is, a hole in the web of knowledge that you can stick your finger through and wiggle. i really should have bought that phdcomics t-shirt that says DOCTOR on the front and OF PHILOSOPHY on the back. or one that just says YOU IDIOT. anyway, resolution #1 of living here is that i will save my high-blood-pressure episodes for the most dire of circumstances lest i end up being hospitalized with an aneurysm before hanukkah. to help cope, i shall hire underlings as soon as possible and make their lives a living hell. what goes around, etc.

A Farewell, Charles Kingsley

I

My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey:
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.

II

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever
One grand, sweet song.