In Expectation

18.32
We've been observing the voluntary fast ahead of Hari Raya Haji this last couple of days, and I'm looking forward to the conclusion of today's fast in an hour or so. I can't say it's been terribly demanding to fast when on holiday, but I found myself deeply thirsty when breaking the fast yesterday and very happy indeed to knock back the cranberry juice and hot tea available. And I suspect I'll feel much the same today.

23.45
Must confess to knocking back the tea more than somewhat this happy evening. I need to keep an eye on the need for moderation in all things, that's for sure.

A Bit Tough

Thought I'd try and read Foucault's The Birth of the Clinic over the long weekend. There were not many people around the house today and I had plenty of time on my hands, so conditions were perfect for making real progress. Unfortunately the density of Foucault's writing is such that a single paragraph can wear me out. The result: I've managed to read the first three chapters, actually understanding possibly a third of what I've read. I consider that not bad going.

And on the entirely positive side, I've enjoyed some excellent naps in the course of the day as a result of my efforts.

Miles To Go

It suddenly struck me yesterday that I've never used any music from Miles Davis to soothe the way on long car journeys. Considering the considerable surface attractions of every period of the great jazzer's work, supplemented, of course, by the rewards of what lies below the surface, this seemed a trifle odd. Surely this music would be perfect in this context? (as well as being pretty much perfect in most other contexts that one might think of.)

Having very recently downloaded Miles Ahead and Tutu (the deluxe, remastered version) from iTunes, I experimented with the two as the starting music for today's journey up to Melaka. And I was right: we found ourselves stuck in a massive tailback onto the bridge at Tuas, the Malaysian side being unable to handle the influx of Singaporeans fleeing from their National Day for the extended weekend, yet I felt hardly any impatience at all luxuriating as I was in the plentiful live bonus tracks on Tutu.

I suppose I shouldn't like Tutu very much at all, given the obvious 80s production vibe that pervades the album, yet for once I found myself ignoring the drum machines and slabs of synthesiser. Whatever serves as a basis for Miles to solo thereon works for me given the strength of the melodic and harmonic ideas overlaying what lies beneath. And I suppose this is as good a place as any to confess that I've always preferred Miles Ahead (indeed anything that features Gil Evans & Miles together) over Kind of Blue. I suspect I prefer him on flugelhorn to trumpet, but that's pushing a bit too far into entirely heretical territory.

Our journey here took so long, by the way, that the great Miles Davis needed to be followed by a whole batch of other stuff, all of which cheered me considerably. In the interest of full disclosure here's the list: Oranges and Lemons by XTC; Stevie W's Signed, Sealed, Delivered (the album, that is); Pete Hammill's Singularity; and Steven Wilson's Hand. Cannot. Erase.

One Of Those Moments

I'd been moving non-stop from just after 7.00 am to 11.10 am, when I found myself on duty for an examination with quite a bit more running round to do. It would be 2.00 pm before I would alight upon some sort of break. Fortunately I'd managed to grab a flask of tea, a cup, and the happily substantial piece of fruit cake Noi had prepared for me to help deal with the rigours of a distinctly rigorous day, and they were by my side as I hurried some necessary paperwork. 

At this point in time I figured I had a minute or two in which to deal with the cake, and did so. With considerable gusto.

Suddenly the day blossomed as time stopped. It's rare to encounter utter perfection, but there it was in my hands, then my mouth and, in short order, in my stomach. And if you feel jealous, that's fine - you should. Hah!

A Wild Time

Looking forward to the long weekend ahead - a holiday for National Day followed by another for Hari Raya Haji. As usual we'll be deserting this nation for the one up north. We're off to Mak's house at Sungai Petai to celebrate the big day (and to observe the fast the day before.)
 
When we there for Hari Raya Puasa, on the second day of Syawal we found the main road outside the house blocked by the intruders below. I doubt we'll see them again this time round, but I live in hope:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Not at all sure to whom our chums belonged, by the way. Suppose it was, rather splendidly, to themselves.

Good Cheer

Just realised I've got a fair amount of reading ahead just related to material I need to soak myself in to prepare for what I'll need to teach in 2020. I suppose it says something about what I do for a living that the thought actually made me feel quite unreasonably cheerful.

Strange Days

Shared a splendid cuppa with old chum Tony (Jamal) Green this afternoon. We enjoyed a wide-ranging conversation, mainly centred upon his forth-coming (finally) book on those pilgrims who undertook the journey to perform the Haj by ocean from Singapore in the early part of the twentieth century. The soft copy version of the tome looked gorgeous, and was clearly superbly researched.

We also touched on the shooting at the mosque in Christchurch. I remember hoping at the time that I wouldn't see Tony's name on the list of victims, and it turns out he was in Singapore on a flying visit at the time. Otherwise he would have been there. I think he's in some official or semi-official position as spokesperson for the mosque. He had some engrossing tales of encounters following the dreadful event. I got a faint sense of the trauma involved for the community, both Muslim and non-Muslim, there. It's on-going, needless to say - but I'll say it.

We referenced the news of the terrible shooting in El Paso in the course of our chat, and then I came home to the latest on events in Ohio. We live in strange and awful times.

Bedazzled

Read the final third of Kate Atkinson's highly impressive Life After Life today. So many vividly memorable scenes crammed into a single novel - I was suitably dazzled. Not sure I completely followed all the nuances and implications of the cunningly fractured narrative, but it didn't seem to matter somehow.

The Blitz sequences were powerful indeed, but I think it's the account of Ursula at the Berghof in close proximity to The Fuhrer, followed by the nightmare of Berlin in April 1945, that gives the book a gravitas that takes it beyond being a superior, thought-provoking entertainment and into territory that nudges suspiciously close to greatness.

Good Timing

Discovered that driving from our place to Race Course Road on a busy Friday evening allows enough time to listen to the full performance of The Clash Live at Shea Stadium, assuming that you don't rush to leave after parking but hang on for the rip-roaring I Fought the Law ending the concert. For once I didn't feel the slightest impatience in the various jams along the way.

Going

Caught part of a fascinating documentary just now on a form of Malay dance-drama called Mak Yong. A feisty young lady, one of the last practitioners of the art, was calling on the government for support. But the pervading tone of the programme was melancholic, I'm afraid. I don't think her voice will prevail, more's the pity.

The failure to remember is the ultimate betrayal, no?