Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.


On identity
i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes.

On Christianity
I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you.

On dreams
Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.


On melancholy
It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself.

On memory and nostalgia
It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting.

On language
I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word.

On politics
Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for?

On society
People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last.

On growing old
Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall.

On philosophy
I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man?

On a daily basis
One line quips, like this.


Tuesday, November 21, 2006
I am seriously stressed out right now. I'm shit scared and seriously stressed out, because i just walked out of the cinema watching Martin Scorsese's The Departed and throughout the film, i kept catching myself jaw-dropping at the master at his craft.

i mean, mr scorsese comes about as close to being technically a perfect director as you can find anywhere in the annals of filmmaking history. his films are so precise, and his shots are so tight and effective. not just that, his shots still have room to be sweeping and extravagant. everything in a martin scorsese film looks correct, moves correct and sounds so absolutely mindblowingly bang out of my ears awesome.

all of which makes me feel damn downright stressed out, because i just wrapped my shoot this past saturday, been worrying about how good the whole thing actually was, and then what do i go and do on monday? i go and see a cinematic master walking through the park. how can i even dream of dreaming of dreaming of emulating a guy like martin scorsese? i know he's got millions of dollars and as much time as he wants, and compared, all i have is a one bullet gun and a fiesty-ass gang of debutant gunslingers, but that is where i wanna pitch myself.

i told jan in an email that many of my shots, to me (then), felt world class. i sincerely believed they looked and felt world class. i dunno now man. i mean, marty - that's world class, you knowwhatimean? me, i'm just trying to hustle my way out of a two-bit provincial independent scene into whatever film festival that's willing to give a precocious young punk his day in the theatre.

and i know it sounds really silly for me to get stressed out because martin scorsese is only the greatest living american director and i'm just a muar boy with 24 dv tapes. but i refuse to calm down. how the hell am i gonna edit The Red Street Diner so that it looks like it can sit on the same shelf as The Departed? how do i make it sound as arresting as marty does his film? come on man, somebody give me a shout, cos there'll come a day when all your dvd peddlers are gonna be pushing you stashes of dvds and right next to The Departed will be The Red Street Diner. and then you'll go, ah, just another local film that tried hard. eh, look - leonardo di caprio man. buy.

why am i comparing myself to great martin scorsese? because i will not lower the bar with which i pitch myself. sure, there's a pretty damn good chance i'll miss the bar so bad, you won't even think i was trying, but i will know i was trying. when i started writing this blog post, i was thinking of ending it with a moral of the story: that was, do not watch a martin scorsese film immediately after shooting your own film. it's not good for both your mental and physical health, and if taken wrongly, it can make you feel about the size of a nanoparticle.

so, mr scorsese, if you're out there, please spare a thought for me. i'm just a hero-worshiping kid who sometimes thinks that as long as you still make movies, the rest of us can just stay at home.


Genusfrog [ 1:07 am ]


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