my English grammar is perfect, but my worldview is a mess

my English grammar is perfect, but my worldview is a mess

The Cafe (transcribed)

The cafe displays fake posters of a real revolution and some old books from the xxxxxx Foreign Language Press as if, like most cafes, only for display and not meant to be read. But when this cafe, which seems to be another cafe for hipsters' and designers' ahistorical nostalgia, is closed, the books are removed from the shelves and read. From the outside, we noticed that the lighting is much brighter when the cafe is closed fro the day. But this cafe is not a bar or club. ***** We discussed how poster designs degenerated in that country during the 80s. ***** '...but this is not an issue about the intrinsic quality of the English language itself. Just as much as I dislike the fake accents I heard on this humid island, I abhor the tone of the colloquial English here which is only a parody of slangs. Especially its vocative expressions, especially when I hear it from kids, and thought about the future of this island they called a cuntry. This republic of silence has been mocked by her intelligent and educated citizens for not voicing out. But for me, an inhabitant not as intelligent or educated like them, the problem with this republic of silence is not because it is silent, but that it is not quiet enough. We should not express ourselves too much if we do not have a language of our own.***** During the meeting, the teachers were joking about the students who mispronounced the word 'memoir', the condescending discussion of how unforgivable it was. but it is quite normal, most of the time, I have heard insincere laments about the quality of the students, and the students about the teachers. What is the point of proper pronunciation, diction and grammar for English. English is a bastard language, and 'memoir' is a borrowed term. And we are no less another kind of ideological bastards suffering from colonial hangover. To speak 'proper' English, to write when my English grammar is perfect, but my ideology is a mess (it is a mess if you think ideology only refers to communism or nazism or islam fundamentalism). I hear the echoes of the word 'imperial' in the guise of global - and the misused 'international'. This imperial language, 'my English grammar is perfect, but my worldview is a mess'. The real joke is the that English is the first language here, the myth that it is universal... and the problem of foreigners from the third world who don't use this lanaguage. When your grandfather is sodomised, and grandmother was gang raped your language becomes a dialect. The antithetical gesture of retaining the syntax, and some Asian dimunitive interjections is the greatest parody. No James Joyce will emerge, those who started learning Thai aren't Samuel Beckett who wrote in French. There is no Dante to poeticise a vulgar tongue, or turning it into a national language. The native writers are fortunate. They can return to admire Malaysia or adopt Indonesia. The others would usually despise their origins. They hate the new immigrants or foreign labourers because they are like the ghosts of their forefathers who have returned to do more or less the same kind of labour, occupying the same social positions. We have tried so hard to change our accent and language through education, and adopting another religion with fake Michael Jackson as pastor, we encountered these 'cousins' we do not want to acknowledge, who returned to smear our social status and expose our origins. According to a writer of another once colonised continent, literary tradition is the muse, and literature is a tone of voice, but this island has neither. The local writers and national librarians will disagree. But when we vacilliate between fake accents and parodic colloquialisms, I repeat, we have neither. But I do not write to peddle them this idea. What's the point of writing properly when you are not reading properly or confined to anglo-american literature. It is not even a matter of method but the content your ideology draws you towards. A PhD research with the conclusion that it is fine since language is basically meant for communication disappoints the hope I had for the conversation. It is not the problem of grammar deteriorating in the recent years - but why is it a problem. A problem for who? Who does it serve? For your master to understand you? Or to write about your anglicised asian tongue and Singlish when you are living in New York because you are so witty? ***** We never disagree that this country is a parody.***** I am also writing in exile. Exile from my country that does not exist.***** I was consoled when you told me about Malayan English. But Malaya does not exist anymore. My grandfather is not a Malayan, I was born too late to be considered one, and have no wish to become one. I do not need these petty alternatives. I am Han, who was once an imperialist too, and will return as an imperialist again.'

Pigs

We were the sons of an obsolete calendar sold to the south sea as pigs. The silhouette of a tree a gun shot /The bird drops like a leaf the leaves flew away like birds /The horizon of my grandchildren is narrower than the gap between the door and the wooden frame/ It was the sun of the an obsolete calendar the moon dissolves into the yellowed river.

bourgeoisie

To learn the faded meaning of the term ‘bourgeoisie’ is far more important than understanding any research methodologies.

Wetness

The group who occupied the table just left - judging from how wet the table is when we got here. While waiting for the waitress to wipe the table, I told him that in so many bars and clubs of this humid island, there are so many idiots who spent money for the attention of the girls or to flock to where the girls are on certain nights. Hoping to get them wet below, but in the end all these pathetic guys are only capable of wetting the table top, wetting the pack of cigarettes I left on the table, moisting only the beer coaster.

Literary talent and money - Ricardo Piglia, El Ultimo Lector p. 167

Economy is the basic metaphor of the device: it defines, first and foremost, a relation between literature and money. Joyce, for example, believed that his talent could be explained by his tendency to waste: spending what he did not have, giving huge tips, borrowing and getting into debts, and seeing how this prodigality with money as related to his literary talent.

The reverse could be Kafka: money is like a foreign and dangerous object. In a letter to Milena, during January 1922, he told a story that could illuminate what is being said. In procrastination, the scene concentrates on the narrative world of Kafka: 'Once, when I was little, I had acquired a ten cent coin and very much wanted to give it to a beggar that used to sit between the two squares. Well now, it seems to me a huge amount of money, a sum that probably no beggar has ever received, and therefore I am ashamed to have done something so extravagant in front of the beggar. But nevertheless I had to give the money: change the coin, give one cent to the old woman, and then go round the block of the municipality and the arcade, returning to appear as a new benefactor from the left, returning to give another cent to the beggar, then run around and repeat the same action ten times. (Or maybe less, because I believe that at certain moment the beggar has lost her patience and disappear.)' As always with Kafka, everything is displaced: the generosity is a requirement, unavoidable, one must try to hide it, even though it is futile.

Waste, alm, loans, credits, all these terms could be highly productive metaphors of modes of reading. Rather than an interpretation, it is a system of appropriation that defined such uses - the property is displaced. E. M. Forster, in Aspect of Novel, imagined all the novelists from different eras writing at same time on a table in a library with the entire literature at his disposal. An idea that, surely, is the opposite of linearity and hierarchy; any past element could be used as new. The image of Forster is the representation of a concrete space where instruments, experiments, and preparations coexist. It is Joyce working in his room with rough papers and books, in bed with a magnifying glass and the entire literature in front of him. The literary tradition is a field of associations as visible as the streets of Dublin. Or rather, a physical space as visible as the paths of the city. See how Joyce realised all the literary styles in English lanaguge in the chapter on the clinic in Ulysses: regardless of the era, totally out of context, or rather, within the context of his current usage.







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Mario Santiago 'Advice to Selected Art Students and Poets'

Don't lose yourself to the word Art or art school or scene, don't get suck too deep into black holes between the thighs, whichever head you use, nor the vice of having no vices, don't get caught in wage labour or making money, money should only be cheated stolen or robbed never earned. That is the most important lesson never learned.- Mario Santiago 'Advice to Selected Art Students and Poets'