Where you need to go.

"Not more intelligent in relation to science or logical argument---more intelligent on the deeper level of concrete experiences and personal relationships." (Aldous Huxley, Island)

Belaying

The feeling of being caught so securely in free-fall is viscerally reassuring.

Line Up

The Intensely Local

Some time back I saw a photo essay on the Yawning Bread site introducing the sights between Lavendar and Kallang MRT stations. It had 44 photos, and advised tourists covering the area to '[give] yourself an entire afternoon to do so. The area is that rich.' What, really? An entire afternoon for that tiny stretch? But actually, after reading the photo essay, I realise that's entirely possible, especially for travellers from far away who may not have seen anything like HDB void decks, mosques, shophouses and the like. An entire afternoon would allow one to take in and savour all the tiny little details: the subtle decor touches on the HDB blocks, the more unusual shops, the history of the local mosque and its attached cemetery, the diversity of the people on the street ... things that could very well, and do, pass unnoticed for most people going about on their daily business.

So, in a way, how much diversity a place appears to hold also depends on how deeply you are prepared to look and how receptive you are. Even a tiny red spot on the map can hold a rich wealth of different views---you just need to open your eyes and see them.

For Random "Frequent Flyer" Dent

What is this place?

Is it safe? Is it fun?

Oh, but it is!

What, are we leaving again already?

Irrelevant question of topical interest? Debate.

' ... but she added in a faint voice, "Now let me ask what follows from this."' (II: 23 [251])
Because the declaration of ideals too is only a beginning, not an end in itself. Whether Kamal failed to grasp this and stumbled, or quite simply lacked the courage to articulate the logical next step, his failure to respond satisfactorily doomed his ardent pursuit to lead to disillusionment and heartbreak.

Or music heard so deeply

That it is not heard at all, but you are the music / While the music lasts

?FTW

On Monday at approximately 12:00 p.m., JetBlue Flight 1052 barreled its way into JFK when one unruly passenger ... stood up before the designated time and began to retrieve his overhead luggage. Doing what all good flight attendants are required to do, Steven Slater made his way down the aisle, approached the passenger and told him it wasn’t time to retrieve his luggage.

Instead of following Steven Slater’s instructions, the passenger continued to retrieve his baggage which promptly hit Steven Slater in the head [and allegedly] told Slater to ‘F*** off.’

... Steven Slater then went to the public announcement system with a few choice words of his own. Speaking into the intercom and so that all could hear, Slater announced, “To the f-----g a--hole who told me to f--k off, it's been a good 28 years. I've had it. That's it.”

...

According to reports, Steven Slater grabbed two beers from the beverage cart, popped one open, grabbed his carry-on bags, then activated the emergency chute. Steven Slater, beer, bags and all, then proceeded to slide down the chute and make his final exit from JetBlue Flight 1052 (and most likely his 20+ year career in the airline industry). Witnesses say he then hopped onto an AirTrain but not before slamming his company tie to the ground.

And I thought this kind of thing only happened in Mr. Bean movies.

Just another myth

There's no such thing as a completely clean slate. Only degrees of denial as to how much baggage you're really holding onto. At one extreme there's (perhaps deliberate) amnesia, which is for all purposes practically indistinguishable from a clean slate. But at some level, it's still really a lie.

Read it this way

Too much moping. Focus on the positive.
Home is nowhere. Actually, it's everywhere.
I can't even hold on to my memories. That's why you are endowed with the faculty of memory. What's the use of memory that's not warm and living, anyway?
Life is mediocrity. Only if you insist. Give it your best shot, and who cares about the rest?
But what if I screw up? If you screw up, you smile bemusedly, shrug it off, and figure out how to fix things.
Does that work? Who cares?

Imagining Imperial Grandeur

The crowds at the Forbidden City and the Summer Palace were, as usual for China, overwhelming. A board at the Summer Palace (it was wise of them not to attempt to translate 颐和园 from the Chinese) estimated 42,000 visitors. It was not all that bad---for one thing, the tour groups that made up a large part of the 42,000 tended to congregate at certain spots and completely ignore others, leaving them as spacious and undisturbed as they were meant to be. Still it was quite a crowd.

Imagine when the gardens and the palace were still imperial property. When its serenity and grandeur were savoured only by a select few---and a large army of servants scurrying around, but it would have been part of their job descriptions to be unobtrusive. The halls of the 外朝 would still have seen plenty of court officials and their entourages, but they would be moving in an orderly, regimented way; the scene would have been vastly different from that presented by today's swarms of tourists, roaming around at will.

The Chamber of Petitions in the Topkapı would have been a very much more restricted, sanctified place, open only to the Sultan and his closest viziers, and only permitted to others with their express permission, instead of the general free-for-all it is today.

Thus Black, in Pamuk's My Name is Red, could be awestruck with wonder in the Second Courtyard, and be quaking with enthralled fear in the Third ... That atmosphere of forbidden rarefaction has probably been lost completely with the fall of emperors. But surely that isn't something we should be sad about, is it? It is utterly insignificant compared to the liberation of the masses.