Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Current Obsession

The realization of Economic, Social and Cultural Rights are currently preoccupying me.

Hayek pronounces that political freedom is impotent without economic freedom. He explains: The economic freedom which is the prerequisite of any freedom cannot be the freedom from economic care which the socialists promise us and which can be obtained only by relieving the individual at the same time of the necessity and the power of choice; it must be freedom of our economic activity which, with the right choice, inevitably carries the risk and the responsibility of that right
Friedrich Hayek, The Road To Serfdom (reissued 1971) 75.


Meanwhile. Tick tock. The clock goes. Thursday already. I have a report due in two weeks. Tick Tock

Thursday, July 21, 2005

The Missing Shalimar Mystery

Have I collapsed into some literary blackhole? Has Shalimar the Clown, being awaited by self with bated breath been released? Without my realizing? Soon, somebody will be telling me that Zadie Smith's third book has been on the shelves aeons ago. *indignant pout*

On another note, yesterday's papers had something about Zadie Smith's husband up for a prestigious poetry award I am sure Nick Laird is suitably peeved. He can go on to win the Nobel prize but for all the world, the poor bloke will still be 'Zadie Smith's husband'. Every woman who has been called 'XYZ's wife' will identify squarely with Mr. Zadie Smith. My heart goes out to you mate.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Splendour In the Grass

London is awake and alright. Picking up from the debris of hate. Bruised and bleeding but trudging along nevertheless. Holding steady. Chin up.

On Sunday, I took in breathtaking views from the London Eye. The city unfurled in cacophonic colours. The Thames coursed serenely, a blue ribbon around the city it celebrated. The buildings became smaller, like tiny lego blocks. Each representing a memory, of times gone by. Victorian and Edwardian beauties. The monstrosities from the 60s. And from the distance, Canary Wharf gleaming in the East Side. Immodest glass structures spiraling, as if in competition. Then, there were the patches of emerald gardens. Green lungs puncturing the recesses, like an open dark green manila folder. And what seemed to be toy cars moved languidly on a perfectly lazy Sunday.

As the summer sun encased the capsule, I could really tell that this is one of my favourite cities.

Later, afternoon tea at the Marriot Library lounge overlooking the House of Parliament. The Thames shimmered like a million diamonds. And Big Ben chimed every quarter of the hour without fail. How absolutely grand.

Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower
We will grieve not, but rather find
Strength in what remains behind.
Wordsworth

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Dubai on Transit

On transit in Dubai. There is again the anticipation that always accompanies a journey, whether long or short. Long ones, especially leave me in deep contemplative stupors. What will this trip culminate in?

I cannot yet call London home but it is a city that has been kind to me. When I was desolate and alone, London embraced me warmly into her folds. So, I return. Fresh with images from July 7 etched in blood. To a London that is scarred.

Yet, the journey back to Malaysia also made me realize that Kuala Lumpur is ingrained deep within me. Too much perhaps. Kuala Lumpur watched me grow as young person finding her voice. Everywhere I go, I remember thoughts, ideas, successes, heartbreaks. This collective memory is merged in the sinew of my Kuala Lumpur youth.

London I think is witness to my more mature years. I am happy to turn 30 soon. I am more in control of my life, my wants and needs. There’s pain, hurt and all shades of brokenness but there is also conviction that the 30s are going to be the best years of my life.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

London Blasted

The death toll climbs as the horror of the blast sinks in. I didn't realise the magnitude of the tragedy until I switched on the TV. Major tube stations have been targeted.

Why? Why? Why? So senseless. So merciless.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Splenderful Magic

Splendid + Wonderful= Splenderful

Isn’t it lovely how some words make you feel? Like sublime. When my tongue hits the palette for L, I already feel transported into a serene halo of benedictude. There are other such Divine words. Truth. Peace. Diaphanous. Rhythm. Dignity. Kismet. Luminous.

Simple, honest words. Joy. Shine. Kind. Song. Tree.
Rambunctious, tumbling words like Lachrymose. Cacophonic. Raggastani. Perpendicular. Gargantuan. Flummoxed.

Pure fun words like Hi-fi. Yoyo. Banana. Hip hop. Rotund.

Words that are truly classy, Regal. Glorious. Resplendent. Stentorian.

Sad, aching words like Melancholy. Sorrowful.

The magic of words. I string them together everyday to make sense of everything else.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

First Post

Hello. First post.

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