The Kangaroo Panopticon
Why do I like Park Chan-wook’s Korean film, Oldboy, you ask? Why, the reason I like Oldboy is because I long to punish my enemies. Not only do I want to tit their tat, but also to utterly annihilate their entire existence while ruining everything they love. If they love nothing? Then I want to give them love only to violate it while blossoming. My enemies should not only suffer physically, but should also endure every possible psychological torture procurable. I want my adversaries to be at the peak of their hopes before kicking down their sandcastles. Before you indignantly judge me, you must remember that when I say “I”, you know that it means “we”: for beneath all of our politeness, beneath all of our reservations, linger spiteful, vindictive thoughts. Speak for myself? No, I will speak for all of us.
Elucidating this idea, Russell Roberts, the director of Vancouver, Canada’s Shakespearian Bard on the Beach play, Titus Andronicus, defends the choice of using gratuitous fake blood instead of “arty-farty” red ribbons:
“We’re very inhuman, we human beings. I mean, look what’s happening in Afghanistan, in Baghdad, in Somalia. It has happened since day one. This is no more violent or horrible than what’s going on around the globe right now. Titus has been catalogued as a problem play, but I think that the problem—if there’s a problem—is that we don’t like to have that mirror put up to us.”
Please, I Want to Go to Prison
Why do I like Park Chan-wook’s Korean film, Oldboy, you ask? Why, I like the film because I secretly want to be locked up for 15 years. In fact, I have dreamt of my incarceration since I was a kid. My romanticisation of a reclusive lifestyle began during one camping trip while reading Old Norse mythology. From the tales, there were a few that stuck with me such as those of the Norse God, Odin, who hung himself upside-down from a tree until he died. Why would he do that? He did it because he had learned everything except the knowledge of the afterlife, and his curiosity led him to explore the world that he could only reach through death. So I sat in my tent in solitude reading with no distractions of how Odin finally bartered his way out of Hades by plucking out his eye. Seemed like a good deal to me: an eye for immense, if not total, wisdom. Later, back at home, being so enthralled with the story, I came close to gouging out my own eye with a piece of broken glass. In the end, with the thin splinter against my eye, I thought better of the oedipism. To this day, I wonder how close I was. The fascination may be why I have a thing for cute girls wearing eye-patches.
Many years later, and with both eyes unpunctured, I spent most of my time in Cuba reading. I should pause to say this now: I am not an avid reader. Unlike the admirable voracious readers I have met, reading doesn’t come easily to me. Each page, for me, is onerous. Commas and semicolons, to me, are more like periods. I have an attention span that barely makes it until the end of the.
Oldboy for Little Girls and Little Boys
Why do I like Park Chan-wook’s Korean film, Oldboy, you ask? Why, I love the quirky action-packed romantic comedy because it’s good wholesome fun for the whole family! Are you a fan of true love, superheroes, and octopuses? If you are, you will definitely enjoy this showdown between good and evil based on the popular Japanese comic written by Nobuaki Minegishi. If you like anti-heroes such as the Dark Knight and pretty Grrl-power heroines such as Batgirl, you will love the zany adventures of Oh Dae-su and Mi-do. There’s no lame Aquaman in the movie! No way, no how!
Oldboy has it all: adventure, suspense, humour, and of course, love! Our hero, Oh Dae-su, similar to Harry Potter, begins the tale as a loser just getting through life one day at a time. One dark night, Dae-su is kidnapped then imprisoned in a hotel room for 15 years. During this time, Dae-su trains himself by shadowboxing. He begins to find his true destiny that will lead him to making the ultimate sacrifice for the sins of others. When he is finally mysteriously released back into the world, Dae-su seeks to avenge the cruel murder of his wife and save his daughter. In the end, Dae-su must fight for justice and face the evil mastermind, Woo-jin, and his henchman, Mr. Han. Woo-jin has all of the answers and knows a secret that will change everyone’s lives forever. Dae-su must solve the puzzle quickly—it’s a race against the clock! Can Dae-su find Woo-jin in time?
On Pico Iyer’s ‘Where Worlds Collide’
In his essay, Where Worlds Collide, Pico Iyer analyses the hustle and bustle of the Los Angeles International Airport while transvaluing the associations of the airport culture into current trends of globalisation. Through his long, descriptive sentences, Iyer controls the perception of time to take snapshots of juxtapositions, contradictions, and ironies.
Beginning with a single long sentence paragraph, Iyer captures attention with suspense as the reader tries to figure out who “they” are. He repeats “they” and “them” while providing visual and audial details allowing the reader to put everything together until Iyer finally states the location at the end of the third paragraph. By starting with the perspective of the collective, we get a sense of multiple views while also understanding indirectly that Iyer is only one set of eyes. He uses such a perspective as a device for adding his own experiences into the writing. Through this, he writes with limited omnipresence.
By working through observation and a control of time similar to editing video, Iyer catches many ironies through various juxtapositions in the airport. One such juxtaposition is the contrast between the “American Dream” and reality. While many developing countries invest heavily into their airports to make a good first impression for visitors, the LAX is less appealing and may be a disappointment to those who have heard exaggerations of U.S. wealth. Iyer often induces what people expect and compares it to he thinks they actually experience from the things that he sees. He uses his intuition to role-play how people interact the environment that he sees. In one instance, newcomers experience a gift of a keychain globe (a symbol that, like postcards made in Korea, visually enriches his essay with details of cultural and global interconnectedness) that ends up to not being free at all, but instead a solicitation for a donation. In another example, Iyer mentions the graffiti of “Mexicans go home” scrawled on a bathroom wall that contradicts the international culture within the airport. Through Iyer’s juxtapositions, readers can see both tolerance and intolerance of intercultural relations. On one hand, we see the prejudice against Mexicans, and on the other we see Ethiopians, despite extreme cultural animosity, working along with the Tigre. Iyer suggests that people are “amnesiac” towards historical tensions and much is forgotten for the sake of coexistence, yet he also reveals much of the lingering undercurrents of resentment.
We are God, and God is Dead: The Deaths and Resurrections of the comedic genius, Kim Jong-il
؟ ؟ ؟
God’s Ministry of Comedy
The Juche-bag Kim Jong has died. We saw it coming: he’s been Il for a long time.
And so it goes.
Although we +1, ✓Like, and resend these mostly annoying, crude jokes while participating in the cheap giggles, we cannot think of dystopia without also thinking of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. We sit at our computers connected from all around the world laughing at people who still don’t have the voice to defend themselves. We taunt their country, their leaders, their idols, and their Gods. Do we laugh because we are malicious? Yes, sometimes. There is, however, something deeper than mere vindictiveness. We know the North Korean situation is bad—unimaginably, unbearably beyond bad. Surely, it is not malignity, but rather sympathy that keeps us laughing for the very fact that their situation is so horrible. What do many of us do? We laugh because of the desperate, juxtaposed extremes. The situation is so dark, and we are so helpless to do anything meaningful, that all we can do is laugh. Laughter: our last link to sanity.
The Many Names: A South Korean Folktale
The Many Names:
A South Korean Folktale
Written by Knigel HolmesBack in the old days of South Korea, there was, as folklore would have it, an old man who had but one son. With the family linage so important, and being much too old to sow more rice, the old man wished to ensure a long life for his son. Having worn out his knees going village-to-village asking for advice, the old man finally came upon a recommendation for a wise name-specialist who could make a symbolic name that would promise a lengthy life. The old man was overjoyed when he met the specialist. The joy was soon replaced with persistence, however. As the specialist came up with names for the old man’s son—names such as “Kim Soohanmoo” meaning “age-is-infinite”, “keobugiwa durumi” traditional symbols of long life: the crane and the tortoise, and “Tongbang Sak” after an ancient Chinese man who lived many lifetimes—the old man was never satisfied and instead urged the specialist to make more names. The pressured specialist, in the end, gave the old man the desired long name for his son.
As the old man became older, his son became stronger and healthier. And the old man became prouder. One day, while the father and son enjoyed the day fishing in the Han River, the boy caught a fish. Unfortunately the fish overwhelmed the boy who was too stubborn to let go of the rod. The boy was strong, yet not strong enough to overcome the powerful currents. The old man panicked and tried to get help. He ran towards some other beach dwellers shouting “Help! Kim suhanmoo keobugiwa durumi samcheongabja Tongbang Sak Chichigapo Sarisarisaenta Woriwori Saepeurika Moodoosella gureumi heorikaein dambyeorak seosaengwonae goyangyi badookineun Doldolri fell into the river—please help!” The people patiently waited for the old man to finish the name before they realised the urgency. By this time, however, the boy had already drowned.
Lies
Lies
Written by Knigel HolmesWe like it when others lie to us. We tend to be quite hostile to truth. No matter how tactful we are given truth, we become annoyed or even outright hostile. We hate, and then shun, people who give too much honesty. While there are so many kinds of deceits that we despise, and for which we will never be grateful, we like lies that keep the onus with the speaker. We insinuate that we want to be lied to, but once the truth finally comes out, we want to blame the liar while enjoying our indignation. We seem to like the immediate fantasy although it sets ourselves up to future strife. We see the preference for the ephemeral façade in so many aspects of our social lives, from marriage to politics. Although so many marriages don’t work, and we are slaves to our biology and environment, partners expect the other to vow monogamy, yet no one knows our future actions. We also know that our politicians continuously lie to us, yet we accept prevarication until something really goes wrong. Momentary comfort overrules impending disillusionment. There is something about honesty that draws so much irritation.
I continue looking for evidence that people would prefer honesty; yet after each discussion, people will usually admit that they would prefer the lie — prefer the comfortable illusion. Each of us has a choice of telling the truth yet there is a constant game of implication. We infer that the listener would much rather hear the lie, yet we cannot ask outright if they would prefer the lie. People unfairly place people in situations where they either have to lie or face hurting not only themselves, but also the other person. When some of us break this rule and chose to tell the truth, others hate that we won’t play the game by giving them such leverage. So much of being an honest person isn’t so much of an ethical issue as it is resisting more subtle forms of manipulation and maintaining personal power.
Swimming in Charcoal: Following South Korean Streams into Culture, History, and Memory
Written by Knigel Holmes
If someone had told me that I would become obsessed with charcoal during my stay in South Korea — well, no one would ever have told me that. From plebs to intellectuals, we enjoy the work of others; we rarely think deeply about the products around us. Charcoal, for one, is rather humdrum. Sure, one might consider charcoal when in need of heat, but the thought goes little further than basic utility. One might know a few technical facts such as activated charcoal makes an efficient water filter, or that most “charcoal briquettes” are usually a mixture of coke and coal instead of real charcoal — yawn. Perhaps one even has one of those odd little facts useful for filling in awkward moments of silence:
“Hey, did you know that African red colobus monkeys self-medicate themselves by eating charcoal which absorbs the cyanide from their leafy diets?”
(Awkward silence resumes.)
No, I did not come to Korea to ponder such a ho-hum, mind-numbing topic. I came to Korea for the raw octopuses, the bitter Soju, the cinematic ultra-violence, and of course, the Busan Bikini.
Never mind, forget about charcoal. Instead, let me tell the tale of the cunning, old Chinese joker, Dongfang Shuo, otherwise known in Korean as Tongbang Sak who, after eating the goddess Seo Wang-mo’s peach down by a river, became so blessed with longevity that the spirit world wailed with jealousy. So long did Tongbang live that his name officially appeared in the red ink of a dead man allowing spirits to drag his soul into the afterlife.
The Obituary of Billy Capra
Creative Non-fiction: Yes, this is a true story.
Written by Knigel HolmesThe Obituary of Billy Capra
Billy Capra, whose amiable personality and sincere, trusting character made him a favourite of all those who met him, died in Holguín, Cuba, on the farm where he was born and raised. Similar to many others born into the improper record keeping of the countryside, Billy’s exact age remains a mystery. Still, Billy could not have been older than 12 years old at his death.
Billy was survived by many close family members. Living in little more than a shed unattached to the main farmhouse, Billy’s family and he spent most of their time together. Although various nannies looked after Billy, his whole family ate together, slept together, and even bathed together. While some might frown on the Capra family’s closeness as something uncivilized, we must look onto them with compassion instead of judgement. They lived together out of oppressive necessity. Money was a luxury that the family went without.
Although Billy lived in what we might assume to be a life full of strife, he did not let on that the hardship affected him. He not only had a tough hide, but he was also a playful, sociable kid always out in some game with anyone who would humour him. On the rare occasion of butting heads with his peers over some mundane trifle Billy’s jovial temperament deflated any grudge. We cannot say, of course, that his constant gaiety did not annoy some of the crankier old goats. Billy’s natural inquisitiveness and intelligence kept everyone anticipating his next antics. From when he was a baby on four legs, his yearning for freedom oft led him somehow out of his pen and into trouble. Later this trouble would be the doe-eyed girls who fauned over the still-too-young Billy whom flourished under the attention.
Political Correctness and the English Language
Written by Knigel Holmes
In Politics and the English Language, Orwell criticises modern language for hiding true intentions behind unclear writing. “The great enemy of clear language is insincerity,” writes Orwell. “When there is a gap between one's real and one's declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish spurting out ink”. Orwell argues that euphemisms manipulate language and allow those controlling the meaning to distort reality. Following his argument, contemporary disputes of political correctness reveal modern power struggles. If, as Orwell argues, the enemy of clear language is insincerity, then political correctness is also an enemy of clear language. Political correctness and euphemisms, moreover, prematurely euthanize critical thought.
“'Who controls the past,” writes George Orwell in his novel Nineteen Eighty-Four, ”controls the future: who controls the present controls the past”. While critics abuse the term “Orwellian” by comparing Orwell’s dystopia to modern government, there has yet to be a government able to maintain such control on the populous. No single authority controls the thoughts of contemporary society; however, various institutions and organisations vie to shape language into what will best support their agendas. A Logocracy rules global culture through the power of language. Words define what is legal, what is clinical, and what is acceptable. A switch in meaning changes a benevolent act into a crime. Instead of a central authority, a coalition of individuals, media, businesses, and governments rule public thought through language. Each member of society receives and sends information shaping language and meaning; however, there is no balance of power in this coalition.
Flickr Gallery
Slideshow
Gallery
- 1 new photo (January 9) January 9, 2012
- 1 new photo (January 9) January 9, 2012
- 1 new photo (January 9) January 9, 2012
- 1 new photo (January 9) January 9, 2012
- 1 new photo (January 9) January 9, 2012
Meta
Twitter Updates
- Just posted a photo @ 한국민속촌(KOREAN FOLK VILLAGE) http://t.co/qrq8Zto4 5 days ago
- Just posted a photo @ 양지파인리조트스키장 http://t.co/clxWSMCs 6 days ago
- I'm at 양지파인리조트스키장 http://t.co/OqoDoNwb 6 days ago
- I'm at 양지파인리조트스키장 http://t.co/xTHRTczo 6 days ago
- 5 of 5 stars to The Way Hollywood Tells It by David Bordwell http://t.co/MtXGB8NC 3 weeks ago
- More updates...
Introduction
Email: i@knigel.com
Phone: 010-7277-1979
Flickr Photo Gallery
Facebook
Twitter
Google Plus
Tumblr
Goodreads
Categories
Recent Posts
- The Kangaroo Panopticon
- Please, I Want to Go to Prison
- Oldboy for Little Girls and Little Boys
- On Pico Iyer’s ‘Where Worlds Collide’
- We are God, and God is Dead: The Deaths and Resurrections of the comedic genius, Kim Jong-il
- The Many Names: A South Korean Folktale
- Lies
- Swimming in Charcoal: Following South Korean Streams into Culture, History, and Memory
- The Obituary of Billy Capra
- Political Correctness and the English Language
Pages
- Photo Galleries
- Short Stories
- George Carlin — Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics
- George Orwell — Politics and the English Language
- Horace Miner — Body Ritual among the Nacirema
- Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. — Harrison Bergeron
- Shirley Jackson — The Lottery
- Ursula K LeGuin — The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas
- Willa Cather — Paul’s Case: A Study in Temperament