M is for mushrooms

My friend M always remind me when he think about my book the spider with seven tau-geh legs, that he can’t understand how I think of such things and if i’m high or drunk or what.

I think sometimes i’m drunk but i’m not usually high but can you imagine these are what/how my sober mind can come up with. I think I can understand why people abuse themselves just to tap this frequency of creativity it’s like a silvery cosmos of visions and ideas and it’s like a cloud or a I don't know. I’m just like a radio or a conductor and I get some signal from that and I translate it here and you read what you read.

Sometimes, and for a long time, since I had not really written for a few years, the transmission was broken and maybe because the antenna (equivalent) was spoilt because my ego interfered or something or I don't know what happened, but I was confused or something and so it fucked up.

I think I was doing the right thing but I didn’t know I was doing it until I was confused and I fucked it up and then I say ah fuck it and then I just do what I do and then I recall how or what to do… Until I fuck it up again. But in between, what’s lost are the stories that were never written? No they probably get written by others. They may manifest differently but whatever. What's lost are the years in between that I didn’t spend writing. Lost to what/whom? Lost to the writing-verse which doesn’t really care.

I had lunch with another friend LS who used to read my writings on my old blog, what’s lost is that slice of time in her routine, lost to my writing. But if my writing is not mine. Then it’s also lost to the writing-verse. But if she spent it reading other things, then it's not lost to the writing-verse either. No loss.

Then maybe that is again another pointer to how there’s no right thing. I mean, maybe there’s no right thing. then if there's no right thing. Then I wasn’t doing the right thing before I was confused.

I was unaware before I was confused and became insecure. I was doing something then someone/something/other-verse asked me is this what you should do? Shouldn't you be doing these other things? Then I didn't know these other things and I haven’t done them before so I went to do and then now I know better and I can say ok I think I want to do the thing that I used to do.

Why do I want to do it? Because i’m a radio. Am a transmitter. Of sorts. Why does a pencil want to be used to write or draw or make marks or be stabbed into a person’s eye socket? I don't want to be stabbed into a person’s eye socket. Can’t explain why other than for my personal biases and tendencies and inclinations.

Why does rain fall to the ground? We can go into gravity or the whole water cycle thing again. But is it a skilful question? What is skilful? What is a skilful question and is that a skilful question? Not every question is worth pursuing.

I don't want to play in the cloud of questions and get stuck there for a long time. It fucks with the mind. I don't feel like I belong there. I want to write about an ant.

I wonder if i’m being too truthful about being a radio or transmitter or whatever. But even this is from the silvery cloud.

If I don’t send it out, something else will happen. Maybe I will become broken. Like how I was broken before?

To an extent it’s not up to me to decide. Whether you believe it or not. Whether I believe in it or not. Other people have written/spoken about this before and it is not like it is a secret anymore to those who know. But. When I first realise it I thought it was a secret and it’s a precious thing that I wanted to hoard and keep for myself. Then maybe that’s why I was broken before.

I often wondered why these others written or spoke openly about it. Weren’t they selfish or whatever? Weren’t they afraid of whatever it is that I am feeling afraid of right now? Maybe they were afraid and they also tried to keep quiet then they became broken then they became more afraid of being broken than they were of writing or speaking about the seldom written or otherwise unspoken.

I just have to put it down here and whether it reaches who it is meant to reach is up to something else.

If you know what I mean then I you know why I want and have to write about an ant now.

M is for motivation.

Bus jerky

All the jerks the buses make in this world goes into another world to become this thing called bus jerky.

In that world, these bus jerky pops out of the ground like weeds do in our world. And the equivalent of beings can pluck them off and fry them and eat them. Or they can dry them and store them to rehydrate them and eat another day. It’s a poor source of protein and carbohydrate in the form of some sugar and some natural (plant-equivalent) fats.

Once, in that world, there was a great drought, followed by a great famine. There was a frugal old man (equivalent) who had pluck and harvested and dried and stored bus jerky as a hobby or sport, and then he opened up his store and gave away all his accumulation of bus jerkies and saved a lot of beings from starvation.

After that time the beings would eat bus jerky every now and then to honour this sadness or gratitude or happiness or whatever, probably a messy mix of sentiments.

When a youngling (juvenile being) misbehave an adult might pick off a particularly long piece of bus jerky to cane the youngling with and then make the youngling eat it for the next meal. As in that’s all the youngling would have to eat for that next meal or day or whatever depending on how tough… The adult wanted to be.

(the bus jerky grew like sticks or twigs or tougher grass depending on how long it took for the bus, in our world, to drive between jerks, although it is also a function of how many people are on the bus and felt the jerk, it’s complicated, blah blah.)

As I am typing this on this bus ride the bus has jerked a few times and these have become bus jerkies in the other world and the long piece before that jerk just now is going to be used to smack the ass of the youngling who is going to roll its eyes at its parent (equivalent).

Someday, someday!

There's a nasty little bacteria that lived on an old medical plaster band-aid that was in the purse of an old woman. It (the bacteria) harboured hopes of being used on a human wound and have the chance to enter the human body and course through the bloodstream and cause an infection to the heart that would spread to the brain like meningitis, to which it was distantly related.

“Someday, someday!” the bacterial would mumble to itself, and wish it had a fist to clench and shake menacingly. “any day now!”

But the day never really came. The old woman threw the plaster away one day because it was too old and looked dirty. She didn't even notice that the wrapper was torn. She was frugal but frivolous enough to throw this unused medical plaster band-aid away.

I watched Terrace house

On netflix.

Maybe on some levels this whole thing manifested because of all that bingeing from yesteryear.

Maybe that bingeing manifested because of this project.

Anyway I didn't remember until yesterday.

Lynx suggested I do another notions. I think it’s a good idea. Maybe push out both issues together.

Three-headed dragon

There was a girl who had a three-headed dragon, and this dragon lived in the heart of the girl. As in physically. The dragon was small and it lived there in her heart. Although it was small, it didn't mean that it wasn’t fierce, because it was quite fierce.

One of the heads of the dragon was motivated by ambition and thus named, and another was motivated by justice, and I don’t know about the last one because it’s quite lazy and quiet and inactive and low-key and perhaps not very motivated by anything at all.

Ambition was kind of like the leader. Dragging the rest around. Justice was like the henchman, second sibling, except it was not, as the three heads were born at the same time. The third head was usually in slumber or slow motion or being scolded by the other two. But when pushed to its limits, as it was once, it might rear its fat ugly head and fight with the other two heads. It had severely injured the justice one on the side of its cheek which was punctured and the wound had been festering ever since, it was crusted with dried yellow-blue pus that looked something like blue cheese. When the justice one spoke or roared or moved too much, it would hurt a lot as in this pain would be felt by all three or one of them. And then they would move around even more to adjust the discomfort until it subsided and they would all feel some regret and denial.

The colour of the dragon flesh is green. The blood of the dragon is pink. On the outside, like its skin or scale, was white with black spots. It had the same colour scheme as some dragon fruits. This was quite coincidental. The colour of the girl's heart was purple because no matter its discomfort, the dragon still moved around and bruised the heart a lot. Despite of everything, it can’t help itself.

Thus, the girl often experienced heart ache. She went to the physicians and cardiologists and those people, but with their Western medicine and apparatus, they were unable to identify the dragon. Western sorcery might have had some ways, but it’s not like easy to find sorcerers and practitioners or specialists of such things in the girl's world.

The dragon was something that existed between and both the physical and other dimensions, and it was sustained by the girl's neurotransmitters and hormones and all the chemical vitamins and supplements that the girl consumed.

On some levels, the girl knew that she had a three-headed dragon in her heart, because she could hear them sometimes, and feel them, and she knew them. But she couldn't quite believe it. On some levels, it was the dragon who had the girl that came with the heart it lived in.

Nobody knows what will happen eventually. Should the dragon die? Or did such dragons live on moving from hearts to hearts, possessing them? Like did they apparate or did they propogate like mushrooms with spores? These would be clearer from stories told in the other dimensions, but I guess not in the dimension this story is unravelling in.

The questions I have are:

  • Is this the dimension of the girl or one of the in-between dimensions? I am inclined towards the latter.

  • Did the dragon grow old with time? But…

  • What is the third head of the dragon motivated by? I was going to guess something to do with time.

  • Why does the dragon fruit look like a heart? I was going to say human heart but I think many other animal hearts have the same shape.

  • Why does it not matter who was the girl? Did she live in this or other dimension? In the heart of a giraffe, for example? In the kidney of a megalodon or prehistoric shark? Or in a castle on the clouds that she would go to in her dreams?

  • What happens when they all slept, did the whole world go dark or would they light up? Like fireflies.

  • Was the dragon parasitical?

  • How would I ever know the answers to the above?

Late again

Left home late because I couldnt decide what to study today. Found a soft copy of the art as experience book and thought to bring out the presentation of self bring my laptop bring some Chinese art ref removed camus remove heavy notebook…

Not that I think I can finish all in the three hours. Just in case I dun have the mood to do something or other.

This is like I can imagine my Chinese callig teacher saying why I get so tired.

Next time I shld limit everything to the number 3.

3 x 5 mins 3 hours 3 texts 3 things to do. 3 options. Now I have too many options for this afternoon session.

Updates: we are 20

Another friend joined the group, so we are 20. 1 is not on whatsapp, 2 is not on the internet listing. although 1 changed her mind, so… i need to update 2 more on the internet listing, which I just did.

Together 20.
Whatsapp group = 19 (minus Jillian)
Open listing = 19 (minus someone else)

Yesterday Lynx showed me how the group to him is a list of tel numbers so he ignores it.

Then I initiated a round of self-introduction. and Pm him to self intro. and others also to self-intro.

Lynx did but the others didn’t.

I decided to pm some of them to do so, and I realise that Ahdini has to go back to indo tomorrow morning.

Flux.

Power steering

Life has no power steering. Or at least my life has no power steering. Some people are quite clear and disciplined on sticking to their own course, but I tend to get steered away. So it’s also ironic that I went to initiate a project like this indie studies. But it’s an exercise and training challenge for me to stick to my course.

I’ve mentioned this before, but yes I think that there is a lot of administration to do, maybe because I’m essentially the initiator and moderator of the group, even though I am avoiding the role and responsibility and getting people to step up if they want. Otherwise they will all just cruise by the month and when it’s over then it’s over, like life.

Lynx and I talked a lot yesterday, and a clear thing to record was on our “practice”. He doesn’t think that he has a clear practice, but I opined that an unclear practice is also a practice. If you want to continue to be unclear about it, then that’s okay too, but know that the clock is ticking. We spoke about our aged parents and reflecting on how at the end of their lives they might have realised too late that they have kind of messed some things up, but it’s also, well, too late, time’s up. we can’t go back in life in time to change things. well, this is the source of all these existential crisis right. Time running out.

Actually 3 hours to study is really short. Hardly got much of the book in yesterday, I don’t know why. My mind was very restless.

Lynx said I should initiate some self-introduction for the group. I think about whether or not there’s such thing as should or not, but maybe I can try so I did.

After all, Christina asked me to ask the gallery yesterday if she can bring her dog, and I tried. But Tian - my poc from CCA said no.

I asked Tian if I can take the pencils from the exhibitions, she said yes.

So okay, no harm in asking, except sometimes you ask then you know then you cannot ignore.

*

I have a terrible tendency to digress and it’s like how I’m easily distracted then I will come back to my point eventually but maybe it’s a in a long round about way and I would have spent 3 hours instead of the 30 minutes if I had just went straight to the point.

*

So I talked to lynx about what I had intended to study if not for indie studies as well, I’m not quite sure actually. Did I want to finish chinese art history - what for, and or about art and presentation of self and all this, yes I guess I did want to read the outsider and art and experience stuff, so it’s part of indie studies to do that.

But I also want to do my chinese art thing - for some reasons I am not quite able to articulate at the moment - then lynx said why complicate it. why do i have to have a conceptual reason for doing this media or that media or practicing this or that skill.

I don’t know. It’s just part of my process I guess. Motivated by “meaning”, “purpose”. that part of my brain didn’t get the memo that meaning got no meaning.

*

But if the deal is to explore the purpose and purposelessness of such studying then maybe should just do it for whatever. Do it because of a desire to get some artworks leftover from this project.

All these ramblings here, writing so many words in so many posts so far, but my favourite one is still the fiction piece.

That’s why yesterday’s reading is actually pretty relevant. maybe the next chapter that I will read today will have some answer for me.

*

So I don’t have power steering, but at least I still have a steering, and thus I must steer.

Quiet is good

When the student group was here it was difficult to concentrate. Now that they’re gone the gallery is quiet and conducive again.

Notes on artworks

Sometimes just gotta trust the universe. Must remember this.

Been thinking if art is experience then why make art objects. See act of expression. In art as experience. John Dewey.

Researcher's table rule change

They changed the rules for the researchers table at the library, now it’s gotta require along term pass, and maybe application requires a post grad qualification? The form says something no self study something? What? No basically they want us to use the materials, not just the aircon. No discussion. (Just whatsapp each other across the table.)

Images from 9 sep

It’s easier to upload photos from phone. The library is crowded. We ate together because we study together.

I am online less today

Because I did more other things. Read a few chaps of the Outsider, met indie student Don for lunch and a discussion on in(ter)dependent studies and art making and process stuff. He wanted to go NLB to read a book, but I wanted to go and check out the study lounge at level 5. And we did then I went with him to level 8 he wanted to read a photo book and actually i didn’t plan to read there today, but I read with him for a while, picked up a book on Chinese art history and tried to memorise the dynasties (again) and the corresponding representative artifacts, up to the Eastern Zhou which is the spring autumn warring states. right? maybe right. anyway up to the Pre-qin era.

I came home to practice some zhuan calligraphy (which emerge at the end of pre-qin so got the feels) then wrote some 读书乐 which translates to mean “joy of studying”? but studying books. or reading books. joy of reading books. what is studying in chinese? I can’t think of it now.

Anyway I just wrote an email to a former teacher about this project.

and as I was writing it, I realised what I was running away from. what I had been writing away from. when I ran into the arts. then I said out loud to myself, oh no. and then… okay let me compose myself and think about whether or not I would want to write about it.

p.s. the shortcoming of this blog is cannot post video directly. but this instagram stories is quite funny and effective for posting things. sometimes videos must be videos.

p.p.s. I also just checked that there are two new joiners today. To be honest i find it interesting because I don’t understand why they want to join. But then again, why did I want to start, right? Good thing I had written something to remind myself of the reason. But bad thing it’s so long and I am lazy to re-read. actually i don’t always like to read what I wrote.

ppps. The last blog post about the bitter thing. just a random idea as I was setting aside my grinding stone. Got idea come, must set down.

busy busy busy!

Good Mini Group Session

Flooded the instagram story.

Because we were saying how I just woke up my instagram after 1 year then, the more I post the more I realise nobody cares what I post then the less I care about what I post then the more I post.

Read art as experience or something like that.

3 hours is quite short for me. But Gary felt it was long.

Wonder if should change the timing for next week library sessions to after work hours for others to join. But library cannot talk also.