The past day couple of days has wholly thrown off inherent ingestion patterns. As of now hunger, when experienced, isn't gnawing or demanding but instead the sort of thing that can be forgotten about rather quickly in light of higher pursuits (art and the like, HAHA!), a want of death or numbness with the exhaustion and unconsciousness. All in all it was a good insane frenzied embarrassing affair.




( With an emphasis on the embarrassing. )

I suppose our film turned out half-decent for amateurs in seventeen hours if you discount the sound and the sometimes awkward angles. I mean, conceptually our film was a riot with a pretty hilarious script with academic art discussion, ridiculous violence and funny sex though retaining some amount of romanticism, and even with the embarrassing outcome we managed a good soundtrack and a pretty end-note. It could have been really brilliant and that's good to know, besides being a considerable fucking riot to shoot.

( STILLS THAT DON'T MATTER VERY MUCH BUT ARE HERE ANYWAY. )


What was really really funny about the screening was how of more than fifty groups, only five of them were amateur. So there we were in a roomful of professionals with ridiculous sound feeling a whole lot like dying having our silly film closing the entire screening due to technical difficulties. I swear we are the most ridiculous people on the face of the earth. I have never been so embarrassed in my life because everyone sniggering while I make disgusting noises onscreen? OH GOD. But away from that we had a good soundtrack and I'll think on nothing else. Even if you factor in my shame there's something undeniable about screenings and the humour of the audience, and I guess closing a screening, however random and wrong that may be, is kind of awesome.

Of significance - I've never had more faith in the local arts scene, because seriously a fair number of the films screened were either ridiculously funny or really brilliant and sometimes both. There were horrible films sometimes worse than ours (like three of them, maybe) but in comparison with the relatively consistent quality really it was impressive. Sure practically everyone had their own film crews with massive cameras and overhead mikes, but it's good to know that there is standard and greatness even locally making it that bit more accessible.

Right now I want to know so much and I want to write and I want to go back next year and not be embarrassing and pass out presently.

I totally can do the starving artist thing, with the deathly glow of art torched deep into my skin. Right now I am exhausted and there's this nagging pain in my stomach but I'm not all hungry I just feel like passing out mostly. Over the past twenty hours or so I've hardly eaten because there was so much to do, and now that it's mostly done I don't feel motivated enough to eat things. Um, so Shim Vince Iz and I made a movie over the weekend, and I've subtitled in vain and want to die. And watch other people's stuuff and things. GRAH DEATH

I just accidentally nearly tried to drown myself in the shower. Probably a reflex action, what with school beginning on Monday and my being utterly unprepared for it. Oh, and possibly the bit where I feel like dying slightly, primarily because of the aforementioned and in some part because I think I am falling sick and that's never pretty. No, it is poo. So in fact I don't really want to touch my homework at all, really, and I feel like taking another bath just to put off Math. Augh, it's just that sort of "Screw this, I am going to sleep instead" only I really really need to get things done.

So what we did yesterday was spend the technically last day of the holidays in a bout of extreme escapism, what with the aimless milling about Orchard and the eventual watching of Batman Begins with brilliant people: Elitist Bastard Squadron (the actual CAP05 core, because everyone else, though very very brilliant, need to be differentiated because really, we're even more elitist than that, hence core) and its affiliates. It would be reallyreally sad to just list everyone (a whole entourage, honestly!), but I met brilliantstrange people, like Bern and her stickerfucker, wholly brilliant and the like. I like new people - they are shiny. We ran about Art Friend being supply pervs, walked about Kino reading bad poetry, and Jill spent every once in a while being insecure. You know, the normal adolescent fare, only cooler because we're just like that.

Okay, okay, Batman Begins! Christian Bale I've loved since the best break-up line ever ("You're not important to me") and the amazing coolness in American Psycho. And god, you know, he's kind of reallyreally hot. Cillian Murphy didn't get enough screentime, but <3!, as much as that's mostly 28-Days-Later-induced. God, I need to see that movie again. Gary Oldman! I kind of wish he did more, really, because for crying out loud, it's Gary Oldman justify his presence, you know? And Liam Neeson is kind of cool, yeah. You know, there is no way Batman Begins would have sucked, because c'mon, Christopher Nolan and just about everyone? Wouldn't happen, as much as it might have been threatened by Katie Holmes being (one of the Kirsten Dunst School Of Acting: How To Be Annoying And Terrible And Still Kiss Hot People).

I don't know - I just love Christopher Nolan. I love how he's so understated (by superhero movie standards, anyway) and how he doesn't do retarded "OMG! LOOK, PAY ATTENTION!" sort of built-up drama, and I think I kind of want to marry him. (I also want to marry Batman, by the way.) Admittedly the backstory was a bit much, because it feels kind of in-between to dedicate half the movie to reasoning out the character and then throw in a bit of crime-fighting, but that may have been because having not slept for a day I was slightly out-of-whack, and the action felt a bit excessive. Also, MORE CILLIAN MURPHY PLS. Perhaps a small part of me, being still five-years-old and watching Saturday Morning Cartoons, wanted a more definite villian for most part, because it's conventional and all that. But! NINJA! EVERYTHING IS COOL WITH NINJA and Christopher Nolan, and I think I need to watch it again.

Fine. Math. Now. Oh shit.

ETA: !!! From imdb.com "Katie Holmes barely beat Natalie Portman and Sarah Michelle Gellar for the role of Rachel Dawes." WHAT? WHAT WHAT? IT COULD HAVE BEEN NATALIE PORTMAN? I am just going to kill something now, don't mind me. THEY PICKED KATIE HOLMES ABOVE HER? ARE YOU MAD? ARE THEY MAD? There is no justice in this world.

LJ IS A FUCK AND ATE MY POST. THIS ONLY HAPPENS WHEN I MAKE A LONG POST INVOLVING PICTURES. I AM SAD AND ANGRY AND GOING TO KILL SOMETHING WITH LOTS OF VIOLENCE AND BLOOD, BUT AT THE SAME TIME I AM GOING TO GET THIS DONE, SO.

People have been asking, no, begging for a CAP-centred post with pictures, because they like being maudlin and actually, so do I, so this is alright, apart from the BLOODY TYPING EVERYTHING OUT AGAIN. But moving away from the hate and violence, I don't think my pseudo-recount quite justifies what, in some ways, was the best week of my life, and I am far too lazy for a day-by-day breakdown, so there's this.

The programme, as far as writing went, comprised of plenaries and workshops, of which merely served as a bout of narcissism for the speakers, with the exception of Alan Brody's. Every session was an outlet to plug the speaker's writing, which he or she did to great effect. Sometimes even there was mutual plugging, during question and answer sessions. I suppose in some ways you can't blame them - s'not like anyone else is going to discuss their work, and any readership, whether at gun-point or no, is good readership.

Professor Majorie Evasco-Pernia's Roots In Tradition, Wings of Song: Contemporary Philippine Poetry in English was just about as fascinating as it sounds. Meira Chand's Wearing Other Skins extrapolated on writing if you were half-Indian and raised in England later marrying an Indian writing about India, which must have been quite a stretch indeed (apparently it had been the third consecutive year she had given that lecture). Tan Sri Ramon Navaratnam's session on writing autobiographies was, well, the less said about it the better as quite enough has been said on the speaker's part already. We also had a dialogue about Eurasians, which makes sense because every Singaporean poet or writer has to write a commentary on the erosion of traditional values and the ang-moh-isation of today's youth, or about the Merlion and how it's made up by the government, like everything else.

The largest problem with the Creative Arts Programme is that precious little writing gets done. Were the speakers able to give a shit about writing rather than theirs specifically, it wouldn't have been entirely counter-productive. The principles of the programme are fundementally flawed, in that it is assumed that participants know how to write, which is hardly the case, given the rather eclectic selection process¹. Even if this assumption was true, writing's sort of like reading, the more that is done the better, what with there always being something to learn, and it should function more as a creative writing workshop than a local literary scene whoring programme. I would have honestly liked a bit of critique, God knows we all need it².

We also had an afternoon of Poetry Slam!, conducted by Chris Mooney Singh. The principle of Poetry Slam! is simple - you take drama and singing, maintain a balance between the two and sometimes add the element of rap, its purpose being to represent art holistically and godawfully. Oh, it's very clever. Chris Mooney Singh imaginatively re-vamped William Blake's Tyget, Tyger, following the title with "TYGER, YO!", adding a hip beat and weaving in lines about people prowling the Singaporean shopping district and boys "in jungle green" doing National Service.

What I want to talk about is the film workshop, because at the end of the day I was really pleased with my film, despite having dreaded its screening all week. There's just something undeniable about watching a film you wrote and directed, seeing scenes you set up and tried bloody hard to shoot (and this was hard because it was a bloody documentary), and having the audience seem to find it hilarious. It's one of those grounded highs - not the sort you get when a run of performances is over, but the sort where you know just where you are and that makes it so much better. As much as I hated it in a manner of a father hating a child for having caused his wife's death in childbirth, it was still my baby, and though most memories of its term induces violent reactions, I don't think anything can be as rewarding. Granted, I wouldn't re-do that week of film workshops even if you paid me, and nothing will make me stop being rather disdainful of the experience, but it was satisfying the way little else could be (at least until I write and stage a play, and then I can draw some comparison I think).

We all know that what CAP is really about is people. I spent the first couple of days feeling suitably awkward, and the remainder being madcrazy with the most amazing people I've met, possibly ever. The Elitist Bastard Squadron, comprising Matt, Iz and Hazri, and I love them like whoa. I mean, between themselves they've redeemed half of humanity in my book, and that's quite a feat. What with camping out in Matthew's room being philosophical, writing sordid comics and sometimes poetry, and of course, pervy in all things. I think we should come up with a manifesto based upon all that. And all the lovely CAP people I didn't get to hang out with as much as I would have liked to, <3! utterly, and just, yeah. I wish I could be slightly more articulate about this, but I can't so you're just going to have to trust that I love you all immensely, because honest, I do.


And everyone asked for pictures, so here they are.

( BRILLIANT PEOPLE DOING SILLY THINGS. )

¹After much thought and research, I have concluded that the CAP selection process is like a drinking game: for every use of "monochromatic" and description of "a corpulent man", take a drink. By the end of a pile of say, eight portfolios, one is completely drunk and picks the portfolios that make nice shapes when you squint.

²With reference to ¹.

Regarding Elitist Bastard Squadron Sleepover: I have spent the past thirty or so hours with the most brilliant guys on this continent, forming a sizeable minority with one (1) girl who is amazing like whoa. So that's Iz, Matthew (or, if you prefer, Super Orgy Man), Hazri and Vincent, the last of which I've known for all of a day but <3! Much besides, he's such a movie!whore I do believe he's made for Shimona. And movies were watched, some of which I had watched before and some not, which I really would like to blog concisely and articulately about, but on the couple of hours' sleep I've had over the past two days, let's be slightly more realistic.

Y Tu Mama Tambien: OMG GAY SNOGGING HAWT, and porn, man; 15: excessively artsy, but awn, sudden hope in the Singapore film scene; American Beauty: God; Fight Club: always always always <3!; Matchstick Men: what a small creepy little man; Kill Bill: OMG MICHAEL MADSEN SHOULD WEAR EYELINER, Quentin Tarantino is like, god.

And talking is good! Early in the morning, with chocolate aromatherapy and a dangerous amount of wax, hilarious confessionals, slash slash slash, and

MATTHEW IN FUCKING EYELINER, OH MY GOD, GUH.

Today I got to hang out with the Elitist Bastard Squadron, and that's always good. We did the movie thing quite extensively, and then ran about in a shopping centre late at night singing, and then some in the gents but you know what, we don't really need to go there. Movies were watched, and I recall Donnie Darko being better (the extended DVD version quite sucks, or perhaps when I first saw it I was far younger and more pretentious), and the Dangerous Lives of the Altar Boys was rather disappointing, despite Kieran Culkin's guhness. I don't think the director of Altar Boys was quite prepared to handle a project like that properly, because it was rather sad in retrospect. But Igby Goes Down is always love, always always always, and has the best screenwriting I've seen ever. And we saw Mean Girls and portions of Blackadder, both of which is also love.

Clearly my brain is dead, but the point of this is an online quiz, because I'm silly like that.

And here's a Colour Quiz. Not entirely accurate, but not far off either, except maybe that bit about being orderly because that's way off.

---

Your Existing Situation

Orderly, methodical, and self-contained. Needs the respect, recognition, and understanding of those close to her.

Your Stress Sources

The existing situation is disagreeable. Feels lonely and uncertain as she has an unsatisfied need to ally herself with others whose standards are as high as her own, and wants to stand out from the rank and file. This sense of isolation magnifies the need into a compelling urge, all the more upsetting to her self-sufficiency because of the restraint she normally imposes on herself. Since she wants to demonstrate the unique quality of her own character, she tries to suppress this need for others and affects an attitude of unconcerned self-reliance to conceal her fear of inadequacy, treating those who criticize her behavior with contempt. However, beneath this assumption of indifference she really longs for the approval and esteem of others.

Your Restrained Characteristics

Egocentric and therefore quick to take offense.

Your Desired Objective

Suffering from pent-up overstimulation which threatends to discharge itself in an outburst of impulsive and impassioned behavior.

Your Actual Problem

Disappointment and the fear that there is no point in formulating fresh goals have led to anxiety, emptiness, and an unadmitted self-contempt. Her refusal to admit this leads to her adopting a headstrong and defiant attitude.

Your Actual Problem #2

The need for esteem--for the chance to play some outstanding part and make a name for herself--has become imperative. She reacts by insisting on being the center of attention, and refuses to play an impersonal or minor role.

---

I don't know, that's pretty fucked up I guess, but it occured to me while seeing Igby again that normal people just don't excite me - but then again that may be the undeniable hotness that is Kieran Culkin as Igby, so I wouldn't think too much of it. I figure it would take someone really remarkable (in pretentious Janice terms, that means fucked up, but not in the annoying self-pitying sense, rather the tortured genius type) to displace me completely, and average people don't quite cut it. Or it could be me being utterly in love with Igby and not much else.

I would not go to the extent of saying
It has been made timeless -
Sacrosanct, the way memory and change
could not blemish the
perfection of such an
exquisite moment
(or a collection of such)

but already it enjoys the lazy glaze
of fourteen-year-old summer love and its
frenzy like desire alone was enough to propel you into one
that would last forever if you only believed
(and so you did)

due in part to an exhaustion-induced high
or a people fix
or perhaps this is one of those you will
remember all your life and you're only
wallowing in the knowledge, is all

Strange-

how it has been barely a fraction of what we were
and already -

how everything is defined by time and a second is
as much a fraction as much as two days as much as a lifetime


how all that's left is first-person.

So right, CAP '05. Let's start with the beginning.

( The Past As Future, good god. )

More angst tomorrow. For now, memememememememe, because I'm sick of recounting personally. Which is just so I can music!whore, but well.

Music Meme: tagged by sluggirl

List your current six favorite songs, then pick six other people that have to do the same.

Down From Above - Moxy Fruvous

This song almost made me cry when I first heard it, three or so years ago. It's amazing and haunting and brilliant, and I utterly love how Moxy Fruvous has the ability to break you like so, and then churn out really funny songs like King of Spain. I really need to look into them further.

Somewhere A Clock is Ticking - Snow Patrol

I love the Snow Patrol, madinsanely. They're utterly amazing, and the echoing is so pretty. Another band with the person-ruining, like in Run. Just trust me and take this, what about?

I Fought In A War - Belle and Sebastian

This one just kills me, like everything else of theirs, but if I go on any longer I'll upload every song they've done. 'Nuff said.

Miss Misery - Elliott Smith

I heart Elliott Smith just madly. I don't know, he just gets me every time, but god, you know? Oh god.

Songs five and six are both Mojave 3, because these songs just ruin me completely. I want to die, in the best way possible.

Trying To Reach You - Mojave 3

Prayer For The Paranoid - Mojave 3

Six people: andreaphobia, aerocranes, Elitist Bastards if you please and the rest of the CAP people. DO IT NOW!

And if you want any more music, just say so. Better yet, hop over to whoa_pretension, because that's where I normally music!whore. :D

So I've got 32589028520473634896 pages of the f-list to go through. This will not be pretty, and I'll likely miss things, so if anything really important's happened to you, comment, because I like, love you all and such. I've also got to track down like, everyone, because <3!!!

What I would like to do would be to give an articulate break-down of the Creative Arts Programme 2005, with occasional pictures and perhaps excerpts of particularly bad poetry (God knows we have a lot of that), but alas, all I see today is slash in Jimmy Neutron (it never occured to me how gross Carl's llama-fetish is), and you know who to blame (cough SUPER ORGY-MAN and the AMAZING ORGASMIC!BOY cough), and oh my god I think I've been corrupted even further. At any rate, my brain is dead, and it feels like I have a camel stuck in my nose, and every time I sneeze the roof of my mouth threatens to collapse, so I doubt today's entry is going to be sufficiently coherent, nevermind eloquent. That's probably the best state of mind to do this anyway, given that it's consistent with the one at CAP for most part, but I'm so stoned I don't want to, mwahahaha.

I don't think I quite remember the English Language (and that's appropriate, yes), so I'll put this off for a bit and leave you with SUPER ORGY-MAN with a condom on his head.

You know I really wish I could write one of those silly little maudlin paragraphs, because here it would be so fucking appropriate, but honest to God, I can't. So here's just words, then, no prettiness.

CAP WAS FUCKING BRILLIANT. ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY. And I will miss early mornings and philosophy, and being collectively elitist bastards. But god, you know, I love you all so much. And perhaps I'm a bit high what with the week and all and sleep deprivation (you know you are responsible for this, you llama-fucks), but god, you know, you're utterly amazing people and you might just be like, the coolest most brilliant people I've ever met in such a short space of time and I utterly love you, and we must hang out like regularly and like talk to me people and like Madagascar's utterly the slashiest movie EVARR.

Like oh my god I think I'm going to pass out now, but I like, really love you all. Like, really really REALLY and this says a lot because I'm an elitist bastard, whoo!