I've been having a miserable day so to distract myself from losing my mind this is the product of two hours of random thinking:
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Are all anecdotes fictional?
Even if an anecdote is based on a true occurrence, because all anecdotes are condensations of incidents. One can never wholly comprehend the entire event out of details that may have been left out or not, because of considerations which have yet or will never be considered. Also because of the infinite expanse of alternative perceptions, language, details and context will always be be left out when true events become condensed into the spoken word.
Ergo, if anyone would ask me if I prefer to documentary over narrative, I can easily say that there is no difference. After all, equal amounts of effort are put into the making of either. It's just that documentary or anything related to 'truth', education and information weighs heavier significance on our morals. I say morals because there is nothing that we do consciously or subconsciously that has been instigated without a certain measure of our beliefs and what we know. The closest thing we might have to re-representation however, I suppose, is unedited cinema verite.
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Marxism
I am opposed to the purest concept of communism. Indeed, capitalism is a monopolisation by greedy men wearing self-appointed hats, deeming themselves superior to the working and unemployed class. However anyone that can think that the exact opposite of capitalism, that is communism, must be an idiot as extremes benefit no one. Extremes are the either ends of opposites and when we are attempting perfection, note that perfection is a concept, not a single cold hard law. Everything in nature must have equilibrium. Living life under extreme circumstances of either capitalism or communism is benign. It is merely a swap of control and power when it is always that mother and child will learn from one another.
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Love, Death and of course, Religion
I watched "Waking The Dead" today and cried like a bitch. Maybe it's that I'm so affected by mortality that stories about lovers, where one of them dies, almost always get to me. I've always been easily affected by death. Maybe my soul mate is already dead. Or that I haven't met anyone new to love which means he has not come into existence in my life yet. No one can be alive if they have not been born yet.
Is it really that simple? That all you have to do is wait around for the right person, for the next milestone to happen? That sounds like such an uneducated assumption. It is a concept that emphasises the existence of fate and I find that really disturbing. I hate leaving my life to something else. I would hardly call it a higher power. I don't believe in a so-called higher power. I believe in a god in a why-not way. I don't think god is greater than me. If I had the same powers as god and you could tell between him/her and I, who does a better job, then there would be a higher power. I mean, if you think about it when you have athletic competitions they are divided into male, female, age and weight et al why? Because you can't compare and compete everyone in one go when we all have different assets. I don't feel like I need to regard god as a higher power when even if he really did create the world, I obviously cannot compare his power and mine. Am I supposed to be humbled? Instead of just being grateful, need I revere a doctor or lawyer for being able to do what I cannot? Supposedly I will not be given more than I can handle, so what purpose is there to asking for help through prayer? Furthermore I'm an existentialist. What use is there of considering all things but the fact that life is life and it does not need to be mystical to work? I don't require any more purpose to live than my direction in life. I don't need a religious god to steer my life.
The concept of a religious god is inane anyway. Variety in religion is like variety among football teams. It's cultural. It's based on what you were born into, who introduced you to the team/religion, where you were when you first discovered your love for that team/religion. It has little to do with truth or evidence especially since religion is about faith.
When someone tries to sell you any of the three main religions: Christianity, Islam or Judaism they always follow the same cyclical presentation: source. Source, where did the universe come from? Bla bla, facts of life discovered before refined science. They always use hard evidence with such conviction and when you ask them for hard evidence of anything else, you have to fill in the blanks with faith. If you could fill in the blanks with faith, why bother talking about fact in the first place? Why can't the origins of all existence, all our questions about anything and everything be answered with 'faith'? How does the balance between fact and faith bring you closer to the meaning of life? How different is that to the contrast between fact and fiction? Faith is imagination and therefore, consolation.
Even if they get the scientific things right like how fetuses are formed then how does that make the stories of the prophets true? It's like scientific fact is the hook and the rest is a short biography of the past couple of hundred centuries. But then again the church opposed Galileo Galilei's findings on the Earth's rotation, accusing him of heresy, when Albert Einistein considered Galilei the father of modern science. Now what? I can understand the need to feel a connection to a particular religion but how can one do so without considering that every one's choice of religion is pure circumstance, not entirely a decision made out of pure, calculated deliberation. I would at least submit to the idolatry of a placebo before which. I would much rather prepare myself throughout my life for err before aiming as high as attaining divine altruism.
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I hate the end of semester. I can't get myself together or much of a film crew for that matter. I can understand how everyone's so busy and everything here but do the rest have to be so fucking closed off? Bastards. Morons. Furthermore the course here basically requires you to be a one-man studio which is STUPID for film under any circumstance. All I want to do is graduate on time. Jesus fucking Christ is that so much to ask?
Fuck structural education. As if I didn't already have enough to worry about.
Sometimes I swear I bring being introspective to a whole new level.
If anyone's been paying attention to my work, whether my journal writings, stationery, scribbles since high school, you might have noticed that I would occasionally tag them with - Captain Kaputnik or CaptainKaputnikLives. If you watch any of my films, they're all credited as "A CaptainKaputnikLives Production." Few people know this but Captain Kaputnik is the name of my alter-ego/muse/imagination/inner child. Whenever I think I'm growing up too fast I think of Captain Kaputnik as a raw form of my creative core and it brings me back. I don't know his role, how I actually communicate with him or what he does but he's just a center of focus on which I sometimes depend on for creative strength. The 'Lives' part at the end of his name, the fact that I don't uses spaces when I write CaptainKaputnikLives, has a lot to do with perpetuating, continuity, perseverance and immortality.
For the first in a long time I thought about the etymology of this name. It's such a Jewish/American name and some random Sabahan girl picked it up to name someone/thing so personal to her. I mean, Dave Berg was born in Brooklyn, man. Come on.
I don't recall ever having read into that comic before or if its content had any particular affect on me but ever since I could remember, it's always been a compulsion for me to preserve my mortality and the world as I see it. I'm a passive existentialist (if there's such a stupid thing) and the thought of that building which was to be demolished stunned me. Not because I didn't expect it but because it was such a significant metaphor for me hidden in the back of my mind to not have noticed it before, to have subconsciously noticed it when I was a child. Terre Thaemlitz even goes so far as to write about how MAD's Dave Berg and Roger Kaputnik introduced him to post modernity. I was exposed to the concept of post modernity when, come again??
I don't remember if I understood Dave Berg's work then but I found his cartoons humorous without always knowing why. His drawings were arousing, emotionally, intellectually, erotically. His work came out in the 70s and I don't know if it was a drawing typical of that era but it always affected me how his characters were all drawn with dramatic creases on their faces and each individual tooth that appeared when he drew snarls onto his people felt so real to me. I've always felt that comic books have shaped who I am today since Batman Forever was the first movie that had ever affected me, leading to me wanting to do film - but this is a totally different side of me altogether that has had comic books as a catalyst. I didn't expect to be so involved
And wait, there's more. Upon further research, I found out that Roger Kaputnik is the name of Dave Berg's alter-ego. It was a name which he gave himself when he was younger. Captain Kaputnik was a name I instinctively gave my alter-ego when I was 14 or 15. My alter-ego was inspired by someone else's alter-ego? What a mind trip!
I can't say that I've ever been a huge fan of Mad Magazine. I read it if it's there but generally I used to think that some of it was stupid. Now I realise that it's very representative of American culture and humour, of course I wouldn't understand all of it. The same way I don't always get Australian humour. Mad Magazine, American Splendor, Saturday Night Live are things I have to take time to appreciate. Okay, maybe not SNL, it's just stupid.
I'm trying to see how all of this relates to me; what this coincidence is trying to say. If you're new to reading me, I have a long record of coincidences in my life. So far, all the ones I've experienced have led to places, people, landmarks, experiences that I had to endure for whatever reason which made me stronger but this was in me all along. I wasn't led anywhere. I guess it was a personal rediscovery that was made when I was trying my hardest to find my place in the world. My muse reminded me he was real. I don't know if this makes sense to you or if it's even interesting. Maybe you think I'm weird now but isn't this strange? There's so much Freudian shit tied to it too at the same time. I'd be a psychoanalysist's idea of fun, for sure.
Eeeearrrrgghhh!!!
Imagine looking up recipes for pimento loaf and this shit comes out: pimento loaf. Literally. I've lost my appetite.
I need to start taking pictures of my cooking. Last week's pièce de résistance was a lemon and thyme pan fried chicken scallopini with a parsely-citrus white sauce on tagliatelle, accompanied by roast butternut squash and garlic tossed in olive oil and herbs. For a table of five.
I'm so bad ass I'mma gonna need to take a pregnancy test to see if I knocked myself up.
I've been in America for too long. A little more than a month left. I'm starting to feel a little sad about that.
Is loving how creativity helps you to accomplish so much while procrastinating.
Is seven hours away from accomplishing more.
Is a rabbit in your headlights.
Is wondering why the new Radiohead video for Jigsaw Falling Into Place (Thumbs Down Version) sucks like they're not getting paid enough and is assuming that's what happens when you sell your album on your website for practically free. It makes me want to take my 'Knives Out'.
Is having a ball watching more music videos.
Is Narcissus incarnate.
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TweedleDi: He's the devil reincarnate!!
TweedleLi: That's incarnate.
TweedleDi: How do you know the devil's dead?
And it kinda made us wonder.
I dreamt that in front of a familiar audience, I was made to lie down on a masseurs' table while my aunt convinced me to act as a volunteer for a demonstration, for a healer she was recommending everyone. I shut my eyes. I could feel his hands drift up and down my body while incense burned in the background. He was putting me into a deep sleep. I was surprised by the utter calm and blackness of everything. I had no thoughts, no worries and I awoke into another series of dreams different to that which I usually have. Everything more collected, snippets of random things like I always have but slower, more composed and willing to tell a story rather than rushing to finish before my conscious self awakes. I have my suspicions that I hypnotised myself in my sleep.
I dreamt of escalators, button mashing with instructions on my 'screen' so I could slide across the floors on my knees in real life. Bad TV advertisements where police saved abused animals and pulled tiny kittens from glove compartments. I walked past sleazy men who offered to give me their numbers. Through and over a pedestrian crossing, dorms and hotel rooms filled with people wanting to wash their white bedsheets. Hallways were cluttered with steam, people slipping on detergent spilled onto the red carpeted ground.
I dreamt I rested my chin atop of a friend's head. Someone who I can no longer speak to. It's the closest I will ever get to saying I'm sorry and at least we talk here. That's as far as I'm willing to go. I got a reply to a letter that I've long been waiting for but the waking world showed otherwise.
The only people approaching me are strangers from home and the faces I've known have long said goodbye. I think you start to get old when you encounter situations where some acquaintances should be forgotten, even the closer ones. Today is a rare occasion where it feels like dreams are all I have but it's okay. It's Sunday.
Four years of living abroad and soon I graduate. Soon I graduate and moving back to KK (even if temporarily) is all I can think about because I'm tired of not having a home. I love to travel but travelers have their homes and I'm borderline nomadic which is so not what I want to pursue. Of course, I'm grateful. A lot of people I know are griping about having not left their own countries, wanting to pursue something better and I keep telling people - the rest of the world isn't better. It's just the rest of the world. I've accumulated a lot of wisdom but never enough. The test of me surviving on home ground seems far more difficult. We're talking Kota Kinabalu here and I'm plagued by the fact that so many young people have to be torn between staying and pursuing better careers and lives elsewhere... like one day we grew up and realised Sabah wasn't good enough. Trust me to have a Peter Pan complex.
Maybe it's that we don't want it to ever turn into a metropolis so we don't stay to fix things. Even if we were the ones to build it to that we'd feel guilty but it's us or the politicians who do. People are so weak and silly sometimes. They don't realise that when there's nothing but raw, fertile soil, they can be the pioneers. As in, don't search for an industry, start one and you'll be legendary. Roger Wang's made a good start already. I just want to film us before we all lose our culture to the west, West Malaysia, Koreans, pilaks and Christians. Damn those missionaries are sprouting churches like mushrooms and I kid you not. I still attest to the emphasis of religion before education because how else are you going to comprehend religion? Tangent.
Okay, plans. Again with my big plans. Little girl, big plans. People say that they look at me and they see spark, talent, success. Nice to know but I get paranoid thinking that they're picturing me - red carpet, lots of moolah and doing a Michelle Yeoh. Hell no I'm selling my soul to fucking Spielberg. My definition of success is to capture our culture and people on film in order to remind us who we are. Culture is what counts, it is what makes us unique. It's what makes friends stronger, beer taste better, the days shine brighter and the coldest nights, warmer. Without it, we have no umbilical cord. And take it from someone who has somehow developed an American accent and can hardly speak Malay for shit. Adapting is surviving but preservation is fighting. It's paying your respects to what you love. And then people gripe about censorship... of course Malaysians are conservative when it comes to how we define ourselves, it's because they don't see enough variety, they don't see enough of what they do. We're living in the age of youtube and pirated editing software. We really don't have much excuse to fail. It's not a financially secure career but it's a worthy pursuit.
I watched Shawshank Redemption the other day. I could relate to Andy Dufresne, making do with unfortunate circumstances. My circumstances aren't terrible but I am at a disadvantage with what I want to do but I know I'll have the support of friends, family and people who love Sabah as much as I do. I'm trying to figure something out and last as long as I can and I'll tell you to mind tuttering at me. Pfft. I'm young. I might as well do something before my youthful optimism runs out. So long as some good comes out of my naivety, "youth is for revolution." Mine will not be wasted. What the hell do I know about what I'm up against but I'll find out and that's more than what most people have done so far.
This particular model from American Apparel continues to fascinate me. I think she's gorgeous but at the same time she looks just like me. Narcissistic much? It's very conflicting. Someone once told me that there's some apocalyptic prophecy that requires the unification of seven dopplegangers who will be separated across the world at birth. I've never met anyone who looked like me before. I already have a parallel life doppleganger, a less sane male version of myself and I know a Nadirah whose mum also owns a cookie factory. I wonder if they count. I've always wondered what it would be like to be part of an apocalyptic prophecy. I'd dig it. Why would an apocalypse need prophecies anyway? I don't get it. Buffy had four apocalypses and hardly as much prophecies.
I've been having a HORRIBLE week of magnanimous proportions but I deal with my problems relatively well. Still, doesn't mean that I don't feel bad yet I'm so so sure the apocalypse is nigh. In the second half of the week, my life has subscribed to animals revolting against me, the materialisation of ancient texts; the dethroning of a kingdom and news of the sacrifice of an innocent youth.
Animals. I hate geese because geese hate me. My parents have a pair and those things are bastards and misogynists. Yesterday, on the way to the train station I was minding my own business when this fucking gander starts hissing at me and I'm like "oh shiiiit not again." The fat, animated pillow was flying towards my head and THANK FUCK I had an umbrella and smacked that bitch down! I ran into the train station and it tried coming at me again but I managed to get away. What's the bird gonna accomplish attacking me? Do I REALLY need to remind it who's on top of the food chain? You'd think that things like that would very obviously be ingrained into an animal's sense. Seriously man. Fucking hate geese. Other animals that I despise: lampreys, hagfish, toads, giant locusts and select men. Eww lampreys.
Back to present, right now the word that sums up the utter confusion of my predicament is the French word 'hasard' which means chance or coincidence. It's also a dice game which derives from the Arabic word 'az-zhar' meaning dice. In the English language, hazard means peril, a danger of risk, threat. All things that happen occur for a reason also by chance (hasard) and if that is so... I guess we're all in danger.
I really hope things start picking up soon.
