October 19, 2002
macavity was there
Listening
to: Rufus Wainwright - Damned Ladies
Reading: Allen Ginsberg - Selected Poetry
1947-1995
My first outing after the exams and what did I see? A crap Japanese horror movie (Dark
Water). They pulled all their junk out of the worn tattered bag of horror film tricks. But
there was one particular scene nearing the end that had me grinning because I found it
unexpected. Unfortunately, there was only one scene like so. I watched it with Norah and
her True North, along with a friend of his who had his eye on Norah’s cousin who came
after the movie. I was just as good as invisible, and I didn’t care. I’m not
much of a social monster, to say the least.
I hate to say it, but I lied to her after the movie when we were walking around (it’s
so pointless going to the mall with a group of friends and just… walk around hoping
to meet more friends and probably meet the acquaintance of the feeling of fun). I got on
the cell like I received a call and told her my mum wanted me to do some grocery shopping
with her at Carrefour downstairs. I don’t think she cared much. I went to where I
really wanted to go, once the three of them walked out of sight.
MPH Bookstore.
What a joy. I spent the entire 45 minutes in just two aisles of shelves (adjacent to each
other) – Classics, and Poetry. I was driven to my knees as I flipped through all
kinds of books and slipped into their daydreams.
After much dilemma I called Mum who was in Carrefour and the both of us debated the number
of books she’d buy for me (I had ten in my hands and I knew I wouldn’t be that
lucky). So, I went with
Allen Ginsberg: Selected Poetry 1947-1995
I’ve been fascinated with Ginsberg’s stuff ever since I first read Hadda Be
Playin, which wasn’t in this book though.
Victor Hugo: The Hunchback of Notre Dame
I was torn between the (cheaper) Penguin edition or the Wordsworth Classics and eventually
went for the latter because of… you probably won’t believe it, the typeface. It
was just a very appealing, stylish font.
I’ve been wanting to read this book for quite awhile since I read the abridged
version many years ago.
John Steinbeck: Grapes of Wrath
I heard it’s a good book.
Jorge Luis Borges: Fictions
I love this man. Period.
With that done with, mum and I met up with Za (who said goodbye to her friends) and
together we had lunch at Nando’s (I devoured the hottest and spiciest degree of
chicken voraciously and with ease), while getting all psyched about watching Cats in a few
hours.
I really liked what I wore tonight to the play. I don’t suppose I’ll go into detail, but it involved a nude coloured skirt and a white stringy peasant top. I felt so incredibly feminine, and since it’s me experiencing that, I chose to revel in how rare a feeling like that comes by and how much I should bask in it before tomorrow creeps on to me and erases my slate.
So yes, where was I… CATS!
I SAW CATS!
I don’t know if Cats will ever come here again but the fact is that I had the
privilege to see the ever-popular piece of Broadway, within the breathtaking architecture
of Istana Budaya. The stage design was marvellous and our seats were perfect.
Even as the lights dimmed and the cats leapt in I knew it would be a spectacular
performance, but the Miss Modern within me just could not keep her mouth shut.
You know what she was saying?
”How fun will this be when you hear the first cell phone ring?”
God, and she’s right as usual.
It’s a plague, the entire thing. Let me veer from tonight's recounts to elaborate.
Firstly, there’s the annoying high
pitched cell phone rings announcing not only to you, but to the entire fucking room that
why gosh darn look-y here, you have a bloody phone call! It would be somewhat more
tolerable if the rings were just… well, good old fashion telephone rings, which would
be ‘ring-ring, ring-ring’ but no, they are loud, whiny, melodic, long and
complicated alert tunes that would probably leave Gandhi wishing he was capable of murder.
There’s even a ringtone craze associated with this phenomenon, where people would
strive to compose or obtain something out of the top 40 thrown two octaves off-key and
minus all the possible appeal of the original song.
Who cares if your phone rings the Dilemma ditty or the Star Wars theme?
The fact remains that when your phone rings in a place where no one’s looking to hear
it (read: everywhere) you and your ringtone become just as annoying as the next, people
will not pause to hum it, or turn their heads to you and go ‘Man, don’t take
that call yet, I wanna finish listening to the tune!’ If they do do that,
avoid association with them immediately or if you feel kind, make them a compilation album
of ringtone tracks or something.
Then there’s the matter of the time, the place, and the circumstances.
There is really nothing you can do to make people realise they aren’t important
enough to be an exception when it comes to switching off their cell phones.
But valiant attempts are made anyway. In the Lake Club library for example, they have a
very noticeable sign at the door, as big as it can be without being visually intrusive or
the like. It’s something like a no smoking sign but instead of a cig it’s a cell
phone icon.
Still, every time I go in there I’ll be unpleasantly disturbed by a series of shrill
tinkles and people running out the door or taking their time to pick the call up in a
library.
Here’s a classic example that I’ve experienced, the ultimate worst scenario I’ve ever been in was one time when this ugly, noisy ringtone was heard in the cinema over the movie’s conversation, and someone actually picked up. Then, she just kept on talking. She actually fucking talked right there in the fucking movie theatre! Something like “Yeah, I’m at the movies.” “Yeah, the movie’s not so bad so far, the guy’s pretty hot. Oh, what’s happening now? She’s going into this room right, and then…” She actually proceeds to discuss the movie in an equally ugly and noisy tone right there in the middle of the silent darkened cinema, alternating between broken English and probably Mandarin. I think I almost leapt out of my seat and strangled her.
Shite, I am getting so carried away.
Okay, I’m back.
I was thrilled that not a single ringtone was heard when I watched Cats. And the sound
equipment behind us didn’t buzz that usual buzz when nearby cell phones would receive
or make a call.
The song Macavity was my favourite. Also, Rum-Tum-Tuggers (if I got the name right) had a
pleasant crotch to stare at. He swivelled so gracefully, that my head went dizzy spinning
with him. The person playing Mr Mistoffeless was flawless and the timing of the lights and
music during his part was exceptional. They didn’t display a single sign of weariness
(despite that this was definitely not their first week here) and the actors did not once
go out of character, on or off the spotlight, until the play was over.
During the interval an orange tabby ‘cat’ crawled around the row in front of my seat (ground floor, back and centre) and suddenly a fat arm, property of the woman behind me, yanked forward over my right shoulder and greedily reached for the cat that obviously was too far away. Her fist was just clenching and unclenching, she looked like a child desperate for candy. When she opened her mouth the situation actually got worse, she yelled “Meow! MEOW! MEEEEE-OWWWW!!!” all the while grasping and clenching air.
I cringed, and resisted the urge to stab my
pen into her arm so rudely burdening my shoulder. I also felt like apologising to the
‘cat’ because people can be such ‘jakun’ freaks. That was an unusual
moment for me. Feeling like I should apologise for other people’s actions. Huh.
Jakun is a Malay word that I can’t seem to find synonyms for in English. I guess it
could be the complete opposite of jaded. You’re ‘jakun’ when you’re
staring at something like it’s the first time you’ve ever laid eyes on it, with
wonder and seemingly-inappropriate excitement. Kind of like a poor kid suddenly in a
mansion with plasma TV sets.
Anyway, that woman was very, very jakun. The cat was emotionless. He arched an eyebrow and moved on. I concluded that the woman needed a pet (cat), politely shied away from her arm and wrote strings of profanity in the notebook I bring everywhere.
I try not to immediately dislike people, true, but I have the incredible habit of being easily annoyed by virtually anyone. It’s bad because it makes me too quick to judge and then I zero in on the negative sides of everyone. I would never want someone to look at me that way. But if they did so anyway, I probably wouldn't care.