"...I like the way he delivers his poems better than his poems themselves. He seems boring at first sight, but really, his delivery is SO GOOD and funny..."I know it's a compliment, but it's pretty damn disconcerting to realise that I'm more form than substance. And am I that square-looking?
Anyhow, the reviewer was quite right - YAWP was a ball, from the invited hardcore slammers Marc Nair and Bani Haykal to the contestants, who, if not uniformly good, were thoroughly entertaining. It's a pity that Michael Corbridge gave the post-mortem in the end; Alfian (who was the third judge) would probably have delivered a much more in-depth analysis.
Apparently poetry performance teams tend to do other people's work rather than their own - and that's a smart decision. Teams which used their own poetry quite often ended up with unfocussed angstfests, which make for some remarkably gymnastic creative movements but can't quite speak to an adult judge.
The first prize went to Hwa Chong team "Multiracial We Study Together" (it's a quote from the school motto) consisting of Jian Yang, Melo, Claire Soon, Rachel Au-Yong and Salima Nadira Mafoot Moss Simon. They did a well-choreographed and curated melange of politically charged poems by Alfian Sa'at and sexually charged pieces by the Earl of Rochester. (Very embarrassing for Alfie, but hey, glory must have its price.)
The clear winner of the night, however, was Lisabel Ting aka "The Sexual Textile", who performed her own series of poems (including a villanelle on Wee Shu Min!) from the voices of different archetypal Singapore characters - "Aunty/Adult/Addict/Adolescent", she called it. We gave her the best solo performance (there was only one other competitor) and decided to split the best original poem prize with Karen Xi, a promising RGS girl with a much shorter but still impressive piece called "hear me out".
Of course, I'm sensitised to the problem of how performance poetry events marginalise shyer writers who don't quite dare to take the stage - I hope there's still a semi-sober arena like the now-defunct RJC Afternoon of Poetry and Music for them to ply their wares.
In the meantime, let's yawp!
2. Urg. I started on the below post before I got the residency news.
And how was it? Not bad, I guess. I was about 5 minutes late for my 3pm appointment - had to take a cab in the rain from rehearsals for Georgette, which I'd stupidly scheduled at 2pm. Because of my tension and the dramatic way I rushed up the stairs, by the time I got to the interview I was hyper - punctuating all my sentences with exclamation points, talking with my hands, being super-enthusiastic about everything.Btw, isn't Robbie Goh's letter down there terribly well-crafted? My sis, the GP teacher, pointed it out. The progression from one point to another, the careful massaging of my ego to prevent shattering of dignity and encourage future progress... ai-ai-ai, but then I step back and the illusion is rent asunder.
If they liked me like that, wait till they see me when I'm in a low-energy mode. Which was directly after. (I'd only had about four hours' sleep, y'see). By the time I got to Hwa Chong, I crashed - I fell asleep on a bench, waiting for the ELDDFS event to start.
Of course, the grand question is, who did get the Fellowship? I'm as clueless as you are. Because of a suggestion Shu Hoong threw up, I'm awfully suspicious that it's - well, there's no justification, but a successful Singapore novelist whom I admire but wish would write her novels with a more informed Singapore perspective.
I really have no idea who won it - I swear - but simply considering that I might have been competing against her sent me into a fit of random depression last night. You see, if I'd been on the panel, even if I hadn't liked her novels one bit, I'd still have selected her as a Fellow rather than myself. Never mind the officially declared aim of developing new writers - Singapore needs a good, marketable novel that doesn't over-exoticise itself, and any course she'd give would be a great breeding ground for much-needed future novelists.
I mean, hell, if they're starting a novel-writing programme, I'm joining in.
My friends have been amazing beacons of comfort, by the way.
Fay: Who won it?3. Some good news. Today NAC Lit Division approved my travel grant. Woohoo!
YS: No idea.
Fay: Don't worry! I'll dig up who he is and chop off his hands!
YS: But then he'll be able to write a great novel based on the trauma! And he'll be invited to all the disabled arts festivals!
Fay: (pauses to consider) Then we'll chop off your hands.
