Vanity has always been my favorite sin.
- Al Pacino, The Devil's Advocate
August 14th-18th, 1998
A very worthwhile article by James Atlas is now on the Reprinted Articles page. I found it a very stirring portrayal of the prospective future - not only for his generation, but also for ours, and those to follow. My empathy with this (admittedly superb) piece of journalism draws roots from an identity crisis of sorts that I've been facing these last couple of weeks (I'm brooding by nature. How much more would it take to define crisis?).
I attribute it to the fact that there's been a resurgence of JIS activity recently. The Class of 97 calendar just flipped its last month, and - much as I hate to say it - I miss having people like Vijay and Travis look down on me as I tap out my latest thoughts. Sometimes it helped to just look up and imagine what they'd say if they were actually in the same room. Hell, I know what they'd say: "Lighten up, Adrian - don't be so goddamn serious all the time." And they'd be right, although they'd often also underestimate my tragic samurai-poet appeal. *grin*
Another thing is that I've been seeing a lot of old friends on the Net more frequently now that their summer holidays are drawing to a close. Reminiscing in this kind of blind, groping way ("do you remember so and so? wasn't it grand in the old days?") just seems to highlight the hollowness of it all. Memories are still fresh - like ripe fruit that could burst forth from the mind at any moment - but at the same time, it's a little sad to want to see things stay that way. Maybe I have to let go before I can grow.
I've also taken to listening to a lot of rap again. There's a phrase from an old Bone-Thugs song which keeps coming back to me: 'I'll see you at the crossroads, crossroads, crossroads, so you won't be lonely...'. Those few lines encapsulate a beauty and tragedy and sadness which gets to me every time. Nobody should have to live their lives without their own crossroads - one last chance with all friends, past and present, just before the turn of the road takes them all on the different, irreversible paths of their lives.
That's the moment I'm still waiting for.
August 19th, 1998
I was talking to my friend, Jon Brown, who was kind enough to send me a couple of articles sparked by my own selection on the 'Reprints' page. I've taken to calling these kind of exchanges 'war stories' - emails, anecdotes and recountings of daily experiences which help maintain the skein of global friendships across time and geographical location. So go ahead and take a look at the latest offering; I dare you.
August 26th, 1998
A minor change to the site's interface, reflecting what I hope is a more comprehensive design. The addition of sections such as 'Site History' will hopefully divide bulkier pages into faster-loading nodes, so that visitors don't get bogged down in text. 'Site History' is actually a container for some of my past updates, which - if I remember correctly - contain eclectic ramblings on such things as my personal history, my taste in literature, my taste in music, some theological musings, and a somewhat lengthy description of a camping trip.
I've also been getting a lot of requests for link exchanges recently, which - apart from flattering me to the nth degree - demonstrates the effectiveness of the World Wide Web as a communication tool. To get a deeper sense of the diversity the Internet holds, take a look at the two latest additions to my Tribute page - DK1098's Homepage and The Hamid Page. They're both extremes of the social spectrum and, as fate would have it, quite aptly demonstrate the extremes of my life as well. The former is a very glossy, polished look at friends from my Australian high school and university; the latter is a more down-to-earth and in-your-face take on friends I made at JIS. If you're still not convinced at the dichotomies I've lived through, take a look at the respective photo albums. Maybe now you'll get a clearer sense of what I meant when I said I had to reinvent my identity time and time again. *grin*
August 28th-29th, 1998
Believe it or not, I added a new story today. It's actually a monologue that I'm going to submit for a creative writing class, but I thought I'd put it up here as well. You can read more about it on the 'Complete' section. Hey, and I also got around to finally transcribing Dr. Penha's Method Writing List! Look for it under 'Prologue'.
October 1st, 1998
Yikes, I didn't realize I'd been away from this webpage for so long. A lot has happened to me in the real world since the end of August until now - I've fallen down a ski slope and damaged the entire left side of my body; I've finished my first script (for a five-minute short) and am currently storyboarding with my partner; I'm nearly through the second disc of Final Fantasy 7; and once again, I'm living by myself in a house. Pretty major changes, although some of them aren't permanent. But perhaps the most important one - at least for the people concerned with this site - is that I've been given a Sony Handycam (with 180,000 pixel resolution! thanks dad!). So I've been out and about, shooting stuff and getting familiar with all the magnificent bells-and-whistles attached. Once I get the necessary equipment, I'll transcribe some stills and quicktime videos of the very best. *grin* In the meantime, here's a rewrite of the 'Johnny Come Home' story. Oh yeah, and I wrote a pretty good article for Jon Brown, which should be up on the Class of 97 page whenever he gets the chance to update it.
October 3rd, 1998
The best part of life, I think, is trying to figure out how things work. Not only in the smooth pavement of rationality, but also in the beaten tracks of the subconscious. And while most people have a firm leaning towards one or the other, the simple truth of the matter is that they have a little bit of the both stuffed in them. That's the purpose of a job, you see - to make you a little fixed, a little rooted in society, but at the same time, to give you a taste of the deeper side. That's why a good lawyer can turn the slightest mannerism into a potential weapon; he's figured out the intimate reaches of psychology, and he knows when to use it in his favor. That's why a movie director can deliver a sense of time, space and tragedy to an audience he knows is out there; he's part of that audience, and at the same time, part puppeteer behind the curtain. It's this dualism, this process of action and reaction, which gives us immediate glimmers into ourselves.
I've worked as an actor. I've been a mime. I know how to work lights on a set. I've been behind a camera when the scene started rolling, I've sweated my blood and tears into a piece of literature. I've studied psychology, theology, economics and history. I can twist an audience with just an inflection of my voice. I can tell you what it feels like to sing on-stage in the Opera House, what it feels like to clear an obstacle on a horse's back, what it feels like to be surrounded by a thousand raggedy teeth of earth with only a bobbing sail yacht to keep you company. I can look at a stranger and permutate any one of a hundred different subconscious gestures into a new story. But you know what? All that doesn't count a lick in the end. I probably understand as much about another human being now - with the benefit of all those skills - as I do about the first blade of grass ever put upon this lonely earth.
There's an extra layer of irony there too. If we can't ever be sure we know other people, how well do we know ourselves? My greater insight into my motivations and desires are counterbalanced by my lack of perspective, my lack of distance. What is brought to the equation with one hand is taken away equally from the other, so that we're never really sure if the glass is half-full or half-empty.
I don't remember everything that's influenced my life, but I do remember this - a good deal of the important things, I learnt through books. And lest you should scoff and tell me books are for the insecure, I'll remind you that they are nothing if not the life stories of other people. Robert R. McCammon wrote, 'every time an old man dies, a small library dies with him.' There's truth enough in that.
In particular, two books that I have read in my life changed it profoundly.
I encountered the first one five years ago, in the sweltering humidity of an English classroom. It was a thin, almost beat up paperback copy of John Knowles' A Separate Peace. At the tender age of fourteen, it showed me that friendship was not always the shining golden arch we wished it to be. Sometimes, it was more a creation of love, loyalty, respect, admiration, jealousy, hatred and guilt. Knowles' stirring portrayal made me see the value in imperfection, and in childhood.
The second book I had actually read a year beforehand, in what seemed like another age. Whereas A Separate Peace had moved me to visible change, this story swam quietly beneath the surface of my thoughts. This one I had taken down from the impenetrable reams of a library shelf. It was undoubtedly an adult's book, yet it had a good feel to it. I checked it out anyway, lured by the promise of voodoo priestesses and giant crocodiles and cyclopian bikes. I thought I was ready for it, but I was wrong. The book had been crafted for eyes and hands far older - and yet younger - than mine. Without fully understanding this trouble, I finished the last pages. The part of me that had felt kinship with the book, dimmed and fell asleep in that instant. I returned the book to the library.
Six years later, it's my brother who faces the journey of being twelve. With half-remembered joy, I went searching for the same tome that had emblazoned itself on me at the same tender age. I found it yesterday - a glossy hardback edition that I bought and devoured almost upon the spot. And this time I was amazed to find that I could fully appreciate its subtle vibes, its lamentations and ironies, its many humurous points. I had grown young and old again in six years. I could see in its undulating words, faint echoes of Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird and Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. The imaginary muses had drawn out the very best of a considerable talent and put it in Robert R. McCammon's Boy's Life. It chilled me to think of such greatness. I saw myself in Cory's dreams, in Nemo's upflung ball, in Vernon's childish ways. Most of all, I saw my own life in Zephyr.
There are plenty of other books that I love, for sure - things as great and wonderful as David Gemmell's Lion of Macedon and Morningstar; things as finely crafted Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, as provocative as Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House, as powerful as James Clavell's Taipan; things as sweet and painful as Dan Simmon's Remembering Siri and as haunting as Ursula Le Guin's Wizard of Earthsea. But the first book I will ever give my brother in the hopes that he learns something from it, will be Boy's Life. Who knows? Maybe lightning can strike twice.
October 5th, 1998
'It must be fascinating to have the body of a god, without a mind to match it.' That has to be one of the most memorable quotes from David Gemmell's Lion of Macedon. *sigh* I have to apologize for those of you who actually tried to access the new version of Johnny Come Home. You probably realized that you were getting a second copy of the original. The problem has since been remedied. If you're brave enough, try for it again under the 'Complete' section. Alternatively, Jon has told me that he has posted up my article on the Class of 97 page, so you could go there instead.
