On Her Kind

I have a piece up at Her Kind, which is the blog of VIDA: Women in Literary Arts.

An excerpt:

There’s no choice in losing things or people. There are no decisions to be made, no moment when you have to master yourself and say, “Now. This is the right time.”
Letting go – that’s something else. There is no time to allow the choices to fall away until there are none left. You have to let go at a point where things are still potential, when something else could have happened. You have to let go in the full knowledge that regret will almost certainly follow.

But there's also a bit about Tony Leung there, plus my (bite your tongue*, girl) MS.

__

*I'm hoping that talking about it at all doesn't lead to it forever being an MS. 

'Colonial history survives well in the mouth; it's warm there'

It's common in India for English speakers - we could even say native English speakers - to claim that they're past all this unease with the legacy of language, and all that post-colonial hand-wringing, and that sort of thing.

It's somewhat true, also, that much of what is written about matters of language tend to follow a well-worn path; I'm tired before I even begin. But every once in a while, someone writes something that renews old, stale insights. It's odd that so often this happens through personal histories and even odder that this is not a route taken more often (or maybe I just don't read enough).

Anyway. Found this essay by Eliane Castillo via Aisha and thought I'd link to and store this here:

But for my father, Ilokano wasn’t just a language he wanted to speak—but an entire space, a time. More specifically: an estranged space, an estranged time. And because none of the people who had lived in that space and time were with him, he refused to speak it, to produce it, either to my mother, or to me. The only time I heard him speak Ilokano was with one co-worker, a fellow security guard (and then, only reluctantly and sparingly); or on the phone with his siblings; or the one time when the two of us were in the Philippines together, during the second kidnapping of my life. (He was the one who kidnapped me. Not in an evil way. Well, not evil to me.)

But more than that, he refused, almost categorically, to speak Tagalog with my younger brother and me. He would not enter into the space of Tagalog with us. “It’s not my language,” he said firmly. Naturally, he thought of English as his own; it’s the second national language of the Philippines, after all. Colonial history survives well in the mouth; it’s warm there. Tropical.

See what I mean? Bang in the middle of a familiar narrative of estrangement in language and the claiming of spaces and times etc etc, there's 'the second kidnapping'.

(Plus, anyone who namechecks Tony Neung automatically has my full and passionate attention.)

Facetiousness aside, there's a lot there that makes me want to hug that post: I do the whole shifting accents thing too, depending on whom I am talking to and have often wished someone would theorise or at least explicate that; I like the idea of 'the cat in the throat'; language as prosthesis.

Just read, no?

what it means is...

...only JP was partly right: I may not have urn'd my rest, but I'm taking it anyway. So, because you came, saw and should not find the field barren of daisies:

1. I really should stop but I can't seem to help myself: Frozen has to be the one film I've blogged about most without actually having seen. But hey - anything that reminds me of Tony Leung Chiu-wai is good, right? But I was talking about Frozen. No, actually; Shanker Raman is talking about Frozen.

2. A photograph from Kiarostami's Rain Series in the Guardian. [via BM and Politics, Theory, Photography]. More photographs from this and other series available here.

3. And Ludwig, who returns only when the fields are white, is going to be in the dumps. Reason: the VP is visiting and all roads leading to his Greenco quiz are out of bounds. But if you live nearly and can afford to curl your lip at VPs, please go.

Is it really already the weekend? How?

In Which Lust, Caution is Ignored

Or at least, nearly. What that means is, that while Tony Leung Chiu Wai (siiiiigh) won the Best Actor Award at the Asian Film Awards, the film was ignored in every other category.

Also note that Vishal Dadlani and Shekhar Ravjiani have won the Best Composer(s) Award. While I liked OSO, I'm not sure it had award-winning music. But what do I know?

Oh, and Shanker did not win anything*. Does this mean he won't take photos of Tony for me?

*The award went to Pen-jung Liao, who's shot Lee Kang-sheng's Help Me, Eros. So I guess I don't mind that much...

'more music about makeup'

The Mumpsimus is a man after my own heart. In his Obligatory Oscar Post he says:

...the Oscars are a ridiculous ritual and by my fascination with them. They are, as somebody (I don't remember who) once said, the Superbowl for gay people, and I have often dreamed of tailgating the ceremony whilst wearing my pink feather boa. (Or maybe Tayari Jones's coat. Except I think I somehow look like Rudy Giuliani in that picture.) And yet I also agree with a lot of what A.O. Scott said about them: "The Oscars themselves may be harmless fun, but the idea that they matter is as dangerous as it is ridiculous."

So I'm going to give up on matter for the moment, and instead indulge in harmless fun by offering unsolicited and utterly useless opinions on films I have seen and not seen.

I would love offer unsolicited advice and useless opinions - in fact that is all I do on this blog when I do do it (doesn't that sound like a silly song?). I realise, though that this year will forever have the distinction in my mind for being the Year In Which I Have Not Seen A Single Oscar Nominated Film.

I can't believe it myself. And it's true; I haven't. This is tragic.

So go read Mumpsimus. I have to say, though, that he hasn't, after all, aired any opinions on films he hasn't seen. Instead he's done what any right-minded person would do: rooted for the one film in any category that he has seen.

ps: he has nice things to say about Tony Leung Chiu-Wai in Lust, Caution. Ha!

Nominees for Asian Film Awards 2008

My friend, Shanker Raman has been nominated in the Best Cinematographer category at the 2008 Asian Film Awards, for the film Frozen.

Yay!

Also among the other nominees are - hold your breath - Deepika Padukone for OSO (Best Acress) and Vishal Dadlani and Shekhar Ravjiani (Best Composer[s]) for ditto.

Shanker called yesterday to say he's off to Hong Kong and did I want anything.

"I want Tony Leung Chiu-wai. But if you can't kidnap him, make sure you get me a photograph."

"Ok. I'll have a photograph taken with Tony boy and send it to you."

"Who wants a photograph of you? I want only...

- and here my voice took on a low, beatlemaniacal quality

...only Tony Leung Chiu-wai."

"You can edit me out, no?"

"Ha."

"You're right. You can't edit me out of your life."

"Shut up. Listen. I don't mind if you just touch him and then don't wash your hands until I see you next. Oh, and while you're there, please get me a copy of Lust, Caution."

"M will have something to say to me if I don't wash my hands for the next few months. Mail me a list of films you want."

Bah. Just when I was ready to talk about Tony for a bit longer. Excuse me while I go look at his filmography. I have a list to compile.