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An Inquiry about Laughter and Respect (July 13 2020) Charles Yeo

  Disclaimer: This is in no way a political analysis, merely a philosophical inquiry. Most would have seen, if not heard of Charles Yeo’s delivery of a rally speech in Mandarin. With his awkwardness and discomfort, it emerged as a comedic sketch amidst the political campaigning. Naturally, the memes and clips began to spawn and circulate. Quite recently, Ho Ching posted a short Facebook message defending Charles Yeo and lauded his bravery for daring to deliver the speech. This case-study will simply be an anchoring point for which the rest of my inquiry shall follow and the primary question that will be addressed is as follows: Is it possible to laugh at someone and yet respect that individual? Intuitively, the answer seems to be no. There would be some that maintain that the act of laughing at someone automatically negates or cancels any respect attributed to that person. It is a deformed or mutated respect that cannot qualify as respect. If I laughed at someone for their race or ...
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I think I am damn smart (June 14 2021)

  I stand on the stage A performance of one to an audience of none. Garbled soliloquies disguised as poetic aestheticism. Theatrical mess masquerading as pseudo-intellectualism. Introducing the headlines! “A genealogical investigation From a cultural solipsism Into a collective nihilism.” “The spiral of introspective uncertainty Into a state of meta-cognitive anxiety.” “An unironic satirization Of stream-of-consciousness poeticism” Whimsical. Profound. 0/0 Lights fade. Words on a page. Slow clap. Modest bow. Brevity the style. Yea.
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A Random Short Story Idea Whilst Walking the Streets of Budapest (June 30 2018)

  “Alright Mr Pickles Sir, please hand over the money.” It was a crisis. The shop’s money had been stolen. It was coming close to 7 o’clock in the evening, the sun had begun to set and I was preparing to close the shop. And now this happens. This was not a great way to end the day. And in front of me, crouching down, was the only suspect possible of carrying out such a heist: Mr Pickles. “Mr Pickles, I do not wish to repeat myself twice. Please hand over the money you stole or things are about to get really nasty.” I’ve watched quite a few interrogation scenes online so believe me when I say I know a few handy torture methods. But Mr Pickles was a tough cookie and he looked at me unfazed with bored, uninterested eyes. That, and Mr Pickles was a dog. That’s right. Mr Pickles was a 6 year old Beagle owned by my boss, the owner of the shop. He was allowed to roam free without a leash as he was deemed to be rather tame and unadventurous. Now it might seem terribly surprising that I ...
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His Name is Kenny (January 26 2018)

  A very rough, unedited piece of work. Playing with some character development and conversation. His name is Kenny. I’ve recognised him now and then as we attend the same modules in University. Occasionally, we do end up in the same tutorial group. However, other than a few cursory conversations about workload and essays and standard perfunctory talk, our conversations with one another have never progressed past the superficial. Yet, it’s not difficult to see Kenny as a bit of an oddball. It comes off quite distinctly in the way and the things that he says during classroom discussions. He will sporadically throw up a new interpretation or observation about a particular topic that we are studying. And for some reason, even though the general populace would never mine that same piece of knowledge, he seems to make sense. Kenny gives fresh insight and meaning into the material and I suppose its an acquired taste but I’ve gradually come to appreciate the things that he says. I would...
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An Ode to Pretentiously Esoteric Novelty (March 27 2017)

  My skull is so dense, It has caused a space-time rift. So now there is a black hole, Where my brain used to exist I am an epistemological vacuum. All I do is consume and consume. My skull is so dense, nothing penetrates. Yet my black hole brain, lets nothing escape. Some say I know something (It is a black hole yes?) Some say I know nothing (It is a black hole yes?) What does my black hole brain say? Abs-hole-lutely nomething. (That’s tmesis by the way) I guess at the end of this long day, There’s one thing left to convey. This is just metaphorical babble, Of a condition astronomical. The beauty of parody is that no matter how terrible the work is, it still achieves it's effect.
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Random (May 6 2016)

  Brilliant meta narrative works which a Mr Lee Jin Wee and I shall co author someplace some time in some alternate reality. 1. The Homer Genre: Epic (naturally) Synopsis: An epic about homer writing his two epics. After much existential frustration and angst on how epicly mundane his life was, Homer decides to escape into a fantasy of his own workings, detailing out in its totality, the histories of the two, now immortalized archetypes of martial and nostos heroism. Opening line: Sing in me muse and tell me me of the man skilled in all ways of writing 2. Cancel Genre: stream-of-consciousness, solipsistic novel of absolute verbiage Synopsis: A man is trying to write a novel and the words simply flow forth from his brain and onto the computer but for some reason, he simply cannot backspace whatever he has written. This novel chronicles the absurd thought adventures of an aspiring writer condemned to never being able to retract his words. Opening line: Hii. Woah why's there an extra ...
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The experience of an idea (April 27 2016)

  The Experience of an Idea Every once in a while, I get an idea An idea which I am sure, transcends the boundaries of my finite skull; Most certainly a gift from God And I try to grasp that bright bulb of illuminating knowledge Letting its light suffuse through every crevice of my vacuous mind Casting out all other shadows of malicious ignorance Till there is only Eternal sunshine And when I take hold of the glow And capture the Sun in the bottle of my mind, when I can speak forth the light and echo the words bright, I am rendered speechless And can only watch the hues of beauty fill the page Pseudo-analysis: Tried to capture the process of formulating an idea of which the poem is therefore, almost a self-reflexive, formal manifestation of an idea already in my head. Tried to play on the idea of increasing lyricism which climaxes in the third stanza. Hence the extensive patterning of syntax and attempted use of internal rhymes as opposed to the more disjointed formalism of the pre...
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