Kit Yan's Blog: Headless Chicken, page 2

The Hopeless Politician And The Technological Singularity

I swore to myself that there will be nothing of a political nature in Headless Chicken, but I guess with all that hype going about with the “shocking” results, I ended up commenting on my friends’ blog and article. As such I shall thus still remain true to my word (making me a hopeless politician) and if yer interested in my two cents worth you can visit http://g-e-r-g-a-s-i.blogspot.com/2008/03/left-is-new-right.html#comments and http://thecicak.com/why-im-voting-why-we-need-to-fix-the-flaws-in-the-system/ Mainly I said in those comments that the Internet was a major factor in influencing the results. This got me ticking how much cyberspace is shaping our future. Sure we know about all those social networking sites, and I’ve read countless articles on how a digital society can manipulate real life events, but to witness it in our own backyard and at such a large scale truly amazes me how powerful the World Wide Web can be.

Indeed everything is going online, a brooding giant breathes behind the computer screen ready to strike. It raises its view and decision, and this has profound impact on politics, businesses as well as the economy and judicial systems and society at large.

I like the idea of having our own place in virtual space. It’s like owning your own universe where you can invite friends to be a part – a growing community where bits and pieces of our self are in everyone else. And as computing power accelerates I wonder how much more is ahead. Can we create our own Matrix? Each person possessing his or her ideal state - be it narcissistic, romantic, mythical or scientific. And we don’t go in to a site just to read, watch and listen, we also taste, smell and feel. We absorb in to the URL, and in 3-dimensional fashion socialize with avatars amidst virtual architecture, magical pets and alien flora.

And when one day this becomes a reality, what becomes of society? We are already escaping in to an electronic lifestyle, will we now immerse in it? Will we find the digital more appealing than the natural? And when we can, will we choose to live in it instead? Will we even interact? Preferring to commune with our own creations because they both compliment and complement us. Who will we be?

Thus ultimately, this takes us to the theory of Singularity http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Technological_singularity proposed by scientists like Raymond Kurzweil http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Kurzweil http://www.kurzweilai.net/ and Vernor Vinge. The Singularity is a point in the future when technological advancements supersede human intelligence, and as such mankind is joined to machines becoming a new hybrid species, first as individual AIs that can merge and separate at will, take diverse forms and switch between the physical and digital and later transcending to a collective consciousness taking over the universe, converting “dumb” matter (rocks, gas etc) to intelligent stuff, and finally interacting beyond outer space.

I repeat then, “Who will we be?” Our individual person is so important to us; can we still then ever be unique? Can we maintain our individualism and yet be a collective consciousness? I think so; we have demonstrated it in our recent election. All distinct human beings possessing the same voice. Though we long to be different we choose to be the same.

So, how the hell did I get from the 2008 Malaysian election to the sci-fi theory of Singularity? Some workings of my mind I cannot compute, but whatever it is, from here and now with the swearing in of new powers to the transformation of mankind to his divine state I hope we can accommodate our different agendas peacefully.

Monday Morning Glory On A Thursday

I stumbled upon a gem in Jusco IOI Mall over the weekend in the form of Woo Ming Jin’s Monday Morning Glory, a Malaysian movie about terrorism. The day before I had just witnessed Vantage Point (another terrorist film…by Hollywood none other this time) and I have to say that even without the glitz and glamour of an illustrious production our local fare captured me more. The 8 Vantage Points of a single assassination and bombing event got me yawning halfway thru.

As for Monday Morning Glory otherwise known as Lampu Merah Mati, I wonder how many Malaysians have heard of it? If you ever catch it look out for the part bout McDs and other fast food chains…that was my fave. Got me laughing. (I always have this thing about not supporting corporate America but fail miserably). And I like the Chief Inspector’s (played by Patrick Teoh) dry remarks when answering journalists on police brutality.

The film does not take sides. Both parties have faults, it just re-enacts an event. You don’t really get to know the characters well, but a good question to ask is whether we actually know what the hell we are doing when we take actions on Planet Earth.

Deathrow High (Chapter 1)

This tale is about life, it mirrors everyday existence. If it’s a budgeted movie shot on video cam, you’ll get to pick up the hum of noises while filming. Therefore, don’t expect any highflying explosive effects or outlandish costumes; only be entertained by the mundane routine of reality.
Also, don’t be bothered by the guy in prison. You’ll never know why he’s in there in the first place. He’s just sitting in the shadows, allowing the dim light to flood through his soul until a contrast that highlights his mouth but camouflages his eyes appear to become two pitiless sunken sockets staring outward. Only his hand stuck forward in the light, holding a cigarette between fingers.
Frank sits silent. The smoke twirling off the fag mesmerises me. It looks like a serpent slowly uncoiling in to the skies. But fate has it that it’ll only be swallowed by the dark night.
“Emptiness is nothing you can share.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I was just singing to myself. Sugar Ray, Falls Apart I think.
“I remember…”
“Runaway, runaway la la la la la…o’ what the fuck.”

I’m visiting Frankie in his cell. I know I’m not supposed to, but I’m a nice guy and the warden likes me. I bring gifts, and besides, Frank needs company. He’s on death row, and perhaps someone in the inside has a soft heart toward dying men…I dunno.

Sometimes, men can be in the same room without saying a word. We don’t have that need to talk, unlike women…cos we’ve got nothing to say! Frankie can just sit there in his little own dark corner smoking a fag and I’ll sit down at the opposite end looking at him fag away.
But suddenly he started to cry. It wasn’t much initially, just a tear that streamed down his cheek like a shooting star crashing out of the shadows of outer space. Then another, then another…soon I heard a sob crackling from his throat…then another.
And to my horror, he began to growl. Gurgling sounds like those of persons smitten by sorrow. Eventually it got louder until it resembled cats screaming in the middle of the night behind alleyways. I was standing erect by then…lost…
The guards, alerted, came running to see, but they look more like fancy to me, like the way people slow down to stare at accidents on the road. Frankie keeled over in howls, mucus hanging precariously from his nostrils a foot down and I remember this war movie: A British soldier about to be beheaded by the Japs had the same facade as he, only that it was drool on that poor chappy that defied the laws of gravity.

To the guards I must have looked like a Messiah where a sinful man implores for forgiveness by clinging to my trousers and wiping his nose on it…

Old by Esther

yes i am old. like how old wine has refined tastesand delectable textures like how old t-shirts make you feel comfortableenough to fall asleep in like how old sneakers are your best footwearcos they've moulded to the shape of your feet like how old songs are fun to sing to because they bring back a flood of pleasant emotions and memories that make you smile like how old diaries yellowed with ageremind you of old school crushes and loves won and lost like how old friends are the best of friendsbecause inspite of all the rottenness they've seenthey chose to see how beautiful you are and love you just the same Its good being old. I like the part bout the old t-shirts and sneakers (and of course the friends lah). Never wanted to wear anything new when I was a kid, not very keen bout it now too. As for the sneakers, I had a Fila pair once. Holes in the soles, and my solution rather than dispose of them were to duct tape the bottom. My shoes are an inspiration; just ask Esther bout it in her poem.

Yasmin Rocks!

I had the pleasure of meeting Yasmin Ahmad recently. Her eyes sparkle with observation, her tongue with inspiration. Something she said stabs me. In describing her favourite film Tora-san, Our Beloved Tramp by Yoji Yamada in her blog http://yasminthestoryteller.blogspot.com/ she states “Notice that there was no real big event occurring in the film. No wars, no murders, no deaths, no alien invasion. Just regular folks with regular problems. But in the end, you care deeply about each person's problem as if it was your own.” She also quotes John Webster, “It's easy to be sensational. Just walk around with your zipper down and you'll be sensational. But genius is when you can be sensational with your zipper up.” I admit I often walk with my zipper down. Most storytellers do. We resort to some kind of drama. Not necessarily anything cataclysmic, but even everybody’s hot topic love is dramatic. How often do we fall in love? As such, how do you tell a compelling tale in the day of a life? Wake up, go to work, come back, kiss the wife and kids and then sleep. Only a master storyteller can pull this off.

So, I have a new goal. To do a tale about nothing. Ideally it’ll be a movie as nothingness is harder to portray with visuals. In spite of our mundane routine, what goes on in our head is always exciting – scandals, murders and super beings – and as such a book does not invigorate me. Novels are the dramas of the mind.

God willing, fingers crossed, I’ll be able to come up with a story. All inspiration exists. Nothing is original. We just reach out to grab it. Meanwhile, I’ll still walk with my zippers down.