The High Levels

Be With Me My Beloved Love, So My Smile May Never Fade

noreply@blogger.com (Tay-Tarik) — Thu, 29 Sep 2005 11:29:18 PDT

In another of our many expeditions in seach of the culturally noteworthy, The High Levels took to the cinema today to catch the new Eric Khoo film. In customary High Level fashion, we barely got to the cinema on time, what with The Heat getting detained by respective winsome ladies at the ticketing booth and popcorn counter, who suddenly found themselves perspiring profusely for no reason. Word had it that there was going to be some girl on girl action in the film. And if there was to be, the public may be certain that The High Levels would be there digest it from the intellectual and artistic perspective.

Be With Me was not a very good film in the way that Top Gun was a good film. There was no sex, no good music to hum along to, and no explosions captured in jaw-dropping slow-motion. The narrative fleshed out the lives of five or six (we forget) different individuals, and attempted to intertwine them in a way reminiscent of Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia. One or two threads could have been dispensed with altogether. The love between the lesbian couple was, as Rockson would have put it, 'a bit extra'. The film tried to pull one within the emotional intensity of the relationship by inserting lovely little piano/violin duets at critical courtship moments. Yet the outcome of that relationship (as well as its emotional impact) on the audience was dulled, outweighed, and completely trivialised but the other narrative threads. Still, it must be said (we insist) that both actresses photograph splendidly.

Yet aside from the aforementioned technicality, Be With Me is an extraordinary film about loneliness and suffering; on love and its absence. It limps along, then suddenly, and without warning, goes and breaks your heart. Several of the scenes commanded unspeakable emotional power, reducing The High Levels to sustained bouts of restrained weeping, as well as all manner of uncivilised snivelling. The old shopkeeper put in a Masterclass performace, establishing himself as the emotional pivot of the film. It is from him that the meaning of the film emanates, and it is for him that all tears are shed. The scene in the shophouse where he imagines seeing/not seeing his dead wife had tRYATHLETE closing his eyes in the theater's darkness, unwilling to take any more punishment. The point where the audience observes their hands clasp over her mouth as he plants a desolate kiss on her forehead, sent the entire HL crew into visible and audible convulsions. By the time he wept in the blind and deaf woman's arms, the entire cinema was wracked with grief (save for the few who found the blind and deaf woman's speech amusing, and the same people who found the foiled suicide of the jilted lesbian hilarious).

The values of the film, in its evocation of human dignity, courage, estrangement and love left the High Levels humbled. It painstakingly strips away all that is material, forcing us to look at humanity at its most fundamental levels of naked emotion. The film takes us to a place where the meaning of love embeds itself within watercress soup and steamed rice; where love finds itself destroyed, and in turn destroys those who loved through grief. A place where all that remains of love is its remembrance. It is a place where people eat only in order that they may go on loving.

You have it on good authority. Be With Me is the moment of local cinema.

Tell Me Quando Quando Quando

noreply@blogger.com (Tay-Tarik) — Sun, 04 Sep 2005 13:42:04 PDT

To all the dear friends who have asked for our return, we love you and thank you for your support. Our prolonged silence over the last few months has drawn an onslaught of requests, pleas, complaints from our beloved readers. The most dramatic of these came over dinner, where over XO Fish-Head Bee Hoon and baby kai-lan, a reader who shall be known only as Premlicious unexpectedly, and quite sullenly threw down his chopsticks, and demanded that we start blogging, lest he remove The High Levels from his Favourites list.

Indeed, much has happened in the world since we last blogged. Much of which we wouldn't know about were it not for the good blogs of Messrs Brown, Miyagi, and the enigmatic Cowboy Caleb. To be sure, we could venture to comment insightfully upon hurricanes, terrorist attacks or North Korea, but that is more the domain of the High Flyer, not The High Level. Newspapers are, for us, general household aids that splendidly absorb vomit, or prevent the oil from a KFC family bucket from smearing the table top.

Apparently, a lady blogger who writes as Sarong Party Girl placed some rather tasteful pictures of herself on her blog, which sent the local conservatives out in witch-hunting droves. When asked for The High Level comment on the incident, tRYATHLETE offered, "Shit lah, all of us didn't see it." In any case, l'art pour art we say.

Also worthy of mention has been the meteoric apotheosis of the excellent Rockson Takumi Tan. Intelligent, opinionated and grandiloquently heartland, the good Rockson has become a mythical hero of sorts. With hearty tales of his Evo, his lup sup bar escpades and political diatribes recounted in flawless Singlish, Rockson portrays the stereotype of the 'beng' to complete and utter perfection. Side-splittingly funny, and without question, a complete impostor. As Techno Telegu remarked, "hao siao one lah." The High Levels salute Rockson Takumi Tan.

Apologies to all as well for our no-show at the bloggers convention. I was working till late over the weekend. As Topspin has informed you, I force children to beat little green balls with rigour, and make them run and do push ups if they do not. On that weekend, tRY was in JB on another of his numerous sojourns to the beautiful state, while Tops was milling around one of Singapore's premier law firms, waiting diligently for a winsome lady for a chat and a dash of Darjeeling. Techno was in Nepal showing the Sherpas how to climb mountains, as well as the proper techniques for loading stores on llamas.

Thats it for now. We are delighted to be back.

"Whisky and a bit of Dry"

noreply@blogger.com (tRYATHLETE) — Fri, 02 Sep 2005 10:59:38 PDT

Since Tay-Tarik, appointed quite arbitrarily as the first post-er for this new season, is a bit tardy in getting his words out to print, let me take this opportunity to write a prologue of sorts and perhaps steal a little of his thunder. In true High Level fashion this "prologue of sorts" will have little to no relevance to Tay-Tarik's post, Top's prior post, or even to its own title.

And so it begins, Season 2 (Semester 1) of The High Levels.

Things have changed, even if the posts seem oddly familiar. It is around this age that the irrepressible youth takes its first, tentative steps into true adulthood, learning such values such as responsibility and diligence, and, in the manner of caterpillars metamorphosizing into butterflies, emerge out of the cocoon of university life as respectable accountants and engineers and businessmen. Of course, none of that for the High Levels. We choose, instead, the noble career of Security Guard Management. Or teaching children to hit fuzzy green spheres with oversize fly-swatters. Or, having undergone the panic attacks of understanding the real meaning of "be in the office at 8am", we choose instead to stop the caterpillar-butterfly transforming trick at the half-way stage and start filling out forms for post-grad programmes. And, of course, there is always the ever-popular option of snuggling up in the cocoon a little while longer (known to insiders as 'Honours programme' and 'Minors in technopreneurship and business', and 'er...I'm still in 3rd year').

I await Tay-Tarik's opening episode with much anticipation (and frankly, so should all of you).

Who Put Christian Songs on our Radioblog?

noreply@blogger.com (Topspin Thamby) — Sun, 28 Aug 2005 22:28:32 PDT

It's been many many bottles of Glenfiddich since the inaugural season of The High Levels ended.

Unfortunately we haven't been in either planning, production or post-production (or a restrospective nomination of production as Tay-Tarik might have said) of Season 2 during this time. Instead we've been locked in a bitter dispute of which High Level should be the next in line to contribute an article. Of all the arguments made, the most compelling claim came from tRYATHLETE when he said, "I'm not posting anymore doo dah doo dah. I'm not posting anymore dah dah doo dah day. No more..."

I think however the time has come for this stalemate to be broken and for us to resume our public service. As such it is my distinct pleasure to give you the highly anticipated Season 2 (Semester 1) of The High Levels feat. a fine first article by Tay-Tarik.

*applause*

Singapore's Sunday Footballers

noreply@blogger.com (Tay-Tarik) — Wed, 18 May 2005 10:52:08 PDT

Presenting a critical exegesis of Sunday footballers already stalking a street-soccer court near you.

Braveheart

A fearless and fearsome competitor, this specimen is the first to any scramble or melee, in most instances the triumphant boot amongst a sea of flailing arms and legs. Braveheart has been known to frequently lunge at raised boots with his forehead, and will happily stick his face or family jewels in the path of 100km/h footballs in a valiant effort to protect the goalmouth.

The Apologist

An individual with the unendearing trait of actively apologising for every aspect of his performance, The Apologist will corner teammates one by one to demonstrate his contrition for the imperfectly weighted pass, the lack of height on his corner kick, and his tardiness in getting back to help defend that unstoppable 20 metre scorcher. The Apologist is distinguishable as the only one in the team who isn't saying 'Go away'.

The Cupboard

Distinguished by his towering frame and less than graceful lumbering style, The Cupboard spends the better part of the afternoon trying not to trip over his opponents' or his own feet. Immediately recognizable through his tendency to allow balls to bounce off his shins or knees whilst attempting to control it, The Cupboard has the further habit of clattering unintentionally into opponents and teammates, as well as the misfortune of falling on his posterior by accidentally treading on the ball.

The General

The self appointed motivator, manager and inspirational leader of the team. While his teammates sit at the sidelines awaiting their turn over a cigarette and some idle banter, The General may be observed in a corner sullenly practising his juggling or ball control. Unspeakably passionate about the game, The General is an emotional commander, and takes bad football as a personal affront, often dashing to and fro to chide beleaguered teammates over sloppy touches, or for shooting when they ought to have passed. Does not play well with Virtuosos (see below).

The Virtuoso

A solitary creature by definition, The Virtuoso always fancies his chances in spite of seemingly insurmountable odds. Characterized by a reluctance or refusal to pass the ball, as well as the penchant for ignoring the supporting runs or cries of teammates, The Virtuoso is also compulsively drawn to turning in unnecessary circles and feinting imaginary opponents with eloquent step-overs and shoulder jinks.

The Theorist

This footballer suffers from a malaise produced by excessive exposure to the commentary of Shabby Singh. The Theorist saunters about with his finger in the air, imploring teammates to 'keep a tight back line', 'play it on the ground', or 'press the opponent'. One of the least popular figures on any given street-soccer court, The Theorist generally expends his cache of energy by talking non-stop, and often has to be substituted early on. The Theorist may also, for no discernible reason, be occasionally found muttering 'Yes John' to no-one in particular.

The Antagonist

An individual most players try to avoid, The Antagonist is usually a temperate creature, until the intolerably hot climate, bad form or useless teammates begin to nudge his irritability. The Antagonist adopts a steely gaze, and is on a sharp lookout for the next unfortunate chap who accidentally clips his ankles, or who wins the ball off him unfairly. This character is well known for the phrases 'You want to try me?', 'What the fuck was that?', and the time-honoured 'You got problem issit?'

Where We Have Been

noreply@blogger.com (Tay-Tarik) — Wed, 11 May 2005 00:18:58 PDT

As our dear readers may have noted, its been a good couple of weeks since any of the High Levels put out an entry. Hardly the attitude of champions, we know. One good reason for this absence is the fact that all the High Levels, as Tryathlete noted a post or two ago, are not to be confused with High Flyers. The last few weeks have been spent desperately trying to compress the work of a semester into an extremely short cramming period. Which honestly, could have been circumvented had we the foresight to put those many hours idling at Fong Seng and Breko into reading during the course of the semester. In other words, we ought to have spent semester time studying instead of sitting around impressing each other or looking at women walk by.

Our readers will be happy to know, that as I gently tap these letters on my keyboard, Tek Sappot, Techno Telegu, Tryathlete and their two lovely lady friends are on the undulating byways of Malaysia in a rented Trajet, possibly stopping here and there to splash about the waterfalls, or simply immersing within the lush landscapes and endless horizons. Well, not really. In all likelihood, they're sitting at a random coffeeshop in Ayer Keroh or Seremban, sniggering at the price of cigarettes, while pausing only to exhale reflective clouds of smoke.

As I write, Topspin Thamby is sitting at his desk doing his internship at the LKY School of Public Policy. Or was it the Institute of SEA Studies? One forgets. Whichever it may be, he assures me that his work calls for him to be constantly surrounded by beautiful Bulgarians, Slovaks, Magyars, Bosnian-Herzegovinians, or generally anyone with an appetite for political inquiry or the role of agriculture in the sustenance of the North Vietnamese Army in the battle of Dien Bien Phu. Or something to that effect.

The HEAT? Last we heard, he was in Bangalore directing a documentary on the geo/economic schism between different Indian communities. The theoretical frame will be Jacques Derrida's notions of differance. Reports note that he was seen not a week ago giving food to impoverished villagers, while helping repair broken water pipes and electric cables in between takes (as in like, when the director says "Take 1! Action!"). Apparently the documentary will be titled "From Sixth Avenue to Bangalore". Wote for him when it gets to Cannes.

In their absence, it would be my distinct pleasure to publish some photographs of Topspin Thamby, The HEAT and Techno Telegu in a variety of compromising positions. Really. I can't tell you enough how much of a pleasure it is. Unfortunately, I haven't the foggiest idea as to how this Photobucket thingamajig works. So I'm off to reread the rather beautiful One Hundred Years of Solitude. Toodles for now.

Up One Level - Issue #5

noreply@blogger.com (tRYATHLETE) — Thu, 28 Apr 2005 04:59:37 PDT

It has come to our attention that the Up One Level issues generally provide information that has little relevance to life in the qualification-obsessed, pragmatic-thinking, value-added society that is Singapore. In order to provide a better service to you, our much appreciated readers, the High Level Project proudly unveils Issue #5 of our much-heralded self-improvement column*:

Surf the Curve

If you are one of the many undergraduates that we believe make up our readership, then this issue will be of much interest.

As you already know by now, NUS, and many other excellent institutions of higher learning, grades its students on a bell curve. In layman's terms, that means that it grades its students on a bell curve. Surf the Curve refers to a HL tactic to ensure that you get a fair grade in whatever class you choose to take in any semester, without worrying about such annoying things like studying, or putting in effort.

The central tenet of Surf the Curve can be elucidated thus:

Never take a class which is attended primarily by the high-flyers (not to be confused with High Levels)

Now fully cognizant to the above, one can understand how such a tactic cannot but ensure a better grade, seeing as to how the bell curve recognizes relative performance rather than the absolute old-school marks=grade system we all love to hate. Be assured, it is neither cheating nor illegal, and at most it can be seen as a little unsportsmanlike, but then again, since when is academics athletics?

The morally-upright and high-flyers among you will protest, no doubt. Well... boo hoo.

We anticipate that the rest of you most likely feel that there are too many difficulties in executing Surf the Curve tactics for it to be a viable option. This next section irons out the most common difficulties, in the order in which one is likely to encounter them:

1:Identifying the high-flyers

Easy. They're the ones not putting in the requisite 4 hours-per-day in the NUS Arts Canteen. Be aware, there are some hustlers who do put in the canteen hours, but in reality, are the types you should avoid like the plague, with regards to class selection. Examples include Tay-Tarik, a self-confessed "shy and retiring type" who nevertheless drops 5 syllable words at the drop of a hat, and in all likelihood will own your ass at Text Twist and Scrabble.

2:Falling behind post-midterms due to overconfidence after succesfully avoiding the high-flyers

A little burst of effort here will suffice. Read the introduction and conclusion of a randomly chosen reading. Buy a pen or two. Find out professor's name. Before you know it, you will feel the exhilaration of riding on the right side of the curve again.

3:Falling even further behind when pt. 2 is discovered to be overrated

Some predatory thinking can do wonders. Volunteer to "help" a high-flyer hand in that 30% term paper. Be creative.

4:Discovering that after missing all your deadlines and failing that midterm, it is now mathematically impossible for you to pass the course.

This is a risk all Curve-Surfers have to take. Surfing is a risky sport, and if one cannot maintain balance, a wipeout will ensue, resulting in ignominous floundering and panicking, and finally resurfacing where one started. Or worse.

*an excellent example of Own Self Say Own Self, discussed earlier

TopGun - A Short Defense Of

noreply@blogger.com (Topspin Thamby) — Wed, 11 May 2005 00:31:22 PDT

For years now, there has been something I've been wanting to get off my chest and now I think the time has come for me to register my protest.

Quite simply the problem (apparently; though I myself don't see it as one) is that I think of TopGun as one of the epic stories of our time. Granted it does not run nearly as long as a Tolstoy but who has the time anymore for long winded Russian Realism? In a little under two hours, TopGun expounds all the profundities of life be it friendship, love, self doubt and self discovery or the absurdity of Cold War logic painting these against the etherised canvas of a timeless dream - of Man's Icarusian desire to as Rushdie put it, be "creatures of air...reborn in flight" and having shuffled off these coils, soar unshackled amongst the clouds. TopGun exposes a modernity which by the inexorable anabasis of its progress has imposed upon us all the rat race and the idea of competition - or "the need - the need for speed" if you like - via the sublime allegory of F-14s zipping hither-thither across the skies at Mach 2 trying to outdo each other. Sound familiar?

Did your heart not break when Viper uttered those three cold words of inevitability - Goose is dead? Did your soul not soar believing that there was hope for love afterall when Charlie returned, popped a quarter into the jukebox and... ah the dance of life. Were you not also at the moment of your greatest doubting, looking up to the heavens saying, "Talk to me ______. Talk to me." Did you not, when jet fighters were being blown up in great balls of fire, like Sting, also hope that the Russians love(d) their children? Have we not all at one point of our life or another wanted to be "the best of the best"?

Were you not entertained?!!!!

I have seen TopGun 67 times now; yes, I can lip synch the dialogue and I have endured the endless the ridicule of dilettantes who subscribe to the tyranny of opinion as it is circulated by a group of 'specialists' who have taken it upon themselves to anoint The Criterion amongst films. But I have not always been strong; like Maverick my faith too has wavered and there have been times when I may have "lost that lovin' feeling" and felt like I was flying on vapour with no landing in sight. But somehow always, I pop in the DVD and I "re-engage". Oh TopGun has never failed to "take my breath away".

If anyone's looking for me, I'll be out somewhere on a "highway to the dangerzone"...

Military Speak

noreply@blogger.com (Tay-Tarik) — Wed, 27 Apr 2005 05:08:15 PDT

This post is dedicated to that serap at Holland Village a few nights ago, whom we observed gazing forlornly into her teacup while the National Servicemen sitting around her enthusiastically thrilled each other with army stories. So evident was their immersion, and so plain her disinterest, that the High Level crew began devising ways of rescuing her from a slow death of neglect and boredom. We're sure you'd agree it was the right thing to do.

Just as Techno Telegu stood up to initiate a foray, one of the army types placed a corn-saddled chin-up palm on the serap's lap. As luck would have it dear readers, the boyfriend happened to be the largest, and meanest looking of the lot. One of those muscular chaps who resemble cupboards. So the best we can do as both good losers and gallant gentlemen, is to alleviate her future discomfort somewhat by demystifying military talk.

With this list, you lovely ladies never need feel excluded from such conversations again. Get a deeper sense of the National Service experience. Participate eloquently and intelligently as your army friend/boyfriend tells you his Brunei tales for the umpteenth time. Catch him out when he exaggerates. Because the High Levels care about every serap's social needs.

1) Flanking - This generally consists of running in a large circular way in an attempt to sneak up on the enemy while he isn't looking. This generally assumes that the enemy only has the capacity and intelligence to look in one direction.

2) Ambush - Sitting despondently on wet grass awaiting the 'enemy', while the real enemies, the Aedes, aggressively and determinedly assault you through your uniform.

3) Contacted - Yelled out whenever someone spots an enemy. A signal to toss away cigarettes, coil up ear-phones, or turn off the Nokias and Samsungs. Also an excuse to lie beneath shaded areas for some rest.

4) Hor Lan (Hokkien) - A condition produced by an inability to read maps or walk in straight lines. Characterized by walking around in a confused manner, or having to concede things like, "Err...I think we're lost."

A popular story born in the jungles of Brunei best captures the essence of Hor Lan:

There are two tribes to be found in the Temburong jungles and swamplands. One of these is the Iban, a nomadic peoples who depend upon shifting cultivation for their livelihood. The other is the Fakawee. This group may be found traipsing uncertainly about the jungle in SAF uniforms, asking no-one in particular, "Where the fuck are we? Where the fuck are we?"

5) Bua Long Long (Hokkien) - To move or act at one's leisure. Compounded by an attitude of sincere reluctance and heartfelt apathy.

6) Fatigue - To be called upon to do unsoldierly tasks. These range from de-rusting office chairs, painting fences, or applying boot polish to vehicle tyres.

7) River Crossing - To cross a muddy river/swamp by pulling yourself along with rope, while motor-boats nearby ensure you do not drown. Which would not be an issue had you taken the boats across the river in the first place.

8) Full Battle Order - Where soldiers adorn approximately twenty-thirty kilograms worth of not easily removable equipment on their bodies. This is to ensure that running away in a cowardly manner during battle becomes impossible.

9) Buaya Drill - The difficult practice of remaining calm in the river/swamp while crocodiles drift menacingly past you. The original drill includes shooting the crocodile(s) if we're not mistaken. How though, we are unable to say, since no-one carries any real bullets to shoot with.

10) Smoke-Out - When a smoke grenade is chucked at the enemy, in order that one may run off without being seen. Also used to describe the inexplicable disappearance of soldiers for prolonged periods when the garbage needs clearing, or when the roads need to be swept of leaves.

Up One Level - Issue #4

noreply@blogger.com (tRYATHLETE) — Thu, 28 Apr 2005 05:00:33 PDT

In this issue of Up One Level, we proudly present the latest in rigorously tested, socially proven avant garde methods of upping one's level. We give you the,

Own Self Say Own Self

Own Self Say Own Self (or OSSOS) is easy to learn, and easier to master. It is perhaps more easily recognizable in its previous pre-HL incarnations as blowing one's own trumpet or the yaya papaya. In any case, the OSSOS is a practice that is pervasive in society and especially popular among university faculty members who rely on it heavily to sell their books. This, however, does not preclude it from HL-hood for we recognize its value as part of a holistic approach to self enchancement in order to become truly, High Level.

Despite its widespread usage in everyday discourse, it frequently degenerates into nothing more than empty displays of arrogance and narcissism because of an unfortunate lack of technique. Below we outline a few categories of the OSSOS and instances in which it can be employed in a subtle and nuanced manner that cannot fail but earn you the respect of your peers.

1) Upping by Association (often cynically referred to as name-dropping):
"Oh, my friend Chox says...."

or

"Yeah, sorry I'm late. I was having dinner with Chox then I went to send her home...."

2)Shamelessly Unsubstantiated Upping:
"Giggs is alright la; but lose me a bit I feel..." - best employed after a thru ball face moment.

or

"Did you see how Henry bamboozled the entire Liverpool defence with that nifty little trick? No? Next time we playing football remind me; I show you."

3)Round the Bush Upping:
"Oh you like retro music ah? I know of this blog that some NUS students started, they had a hilarious article on the Zouk Mambo phenomenon..... there, funny right? Scroll down, read all the articles... these guys are how funny.... see their sexyblogger entry... yah, did you check out the guy in the top left.... Eh, no la, we ok only la... we try our best" *buka the blushing here*

Remember, practice is the key. You are bound to lose some friends in the process but that cannot be helped. Rest assured they will come crawling back in order to up themselves by association once you become High Level. In the mean time, do not hesitate to clarify any doubts you might have with a nearest High Level.

The HL Encyclopedia - Social Skills

noreply@blogger.com (Tay-Tarik) — Sun, 10 Apr 2005 22:27:44 PDT

In this edition of the HL Encyclopedia, we introduce our readers to the innumerable utilities of speaking in specialist jargon. Very often have we ourselves sat next to a table of seraps, unable to gush about the cascade of hair across bare shoulders, or how magnificent we genuinely think breasts are. Here then, are a series of handy little expressions tailored to meet your social needs. Talk about that serap's breasts without her knowing. Make nasty remarks about the chap next to you and dissolve into a private fit of giggles. Since really, there is nothing more enjoyable than speaking one's mind, while at the same time being able to avoid verbal abuse or bodily injury. We include examples for the more contextually subtle phrases.

Entry: Football Analogies

1) Good Save - To hurriedly, but gracefully cover up or explain away an awkward slip of the tongue.

Nono, I didn't say settle for you, I said settle with you.

2) Tap In - A female who requires little persuasion to collaborate in acts of sexual congress.

3) Open Goal - A female who requires no persuasion.

4) The Roy Carroll - To deny, feign ignorance or indignation over a situation that is unquestionably your fault.

Ahahahaha... action not scared girlfriend only. I saw you brushing teeth and eating mints after you smoke yesterday. Why buka the Roy Carroll all?

5) No One Calling For The Ball - Someone you are unable to imagine in a relational or sexual context, regardless of how impoverished your sexual situation may be.

What to do? I damn long no one calling for the ball already. No choice lor. Have to fall back on 'self-indulgence'.

6) Drop Shoulder/Step-Over - To skillfully evade the unwanted attentions of a 'No One Calling For The Ball' sort.

Ahahaha... She's gonna get you dei... I see how long more you can drop shoulder.

7) Assist - A third-party interjection that increases your chances of getting with a female.

All I needed was an assist dei. But nooooo, you had to drive your car into a tree. See, by the time you come she go already.

8) Goalmouth Scramble - Where two or more persons are jostling for the attentions of a single object of desire.

I dunno man. She this kind of serap, sure goalmouth scramble one. I dunno if i can take another knock on the shins.

9) Goal-line Clearance - An unfortunate, last minute denial of sexual favours.

Err...sorry lah, i need to go. My mother ask me go back drink soup.

10) 85th Minute Substitution - To notice a serap for the first time when the semester is already coming to a close.

HL #1: Pukimak...who is that serrrappp?
HL #2: Dunno dei...never seen her before. Might be an 85th minute sub.
HL #1: I liiike it!!!

*It may have occured to the reader at this point that the discussion above appears to revolve around women and sex. We apologise if that has indeed been the case. It's just that there aren't that many topics we know how to go on at length about.

*It may also seem that we have cast women in a rather sexist light. But this is not so. Remember, there is little we adore as much, or for whom we would willingly endure long queues to procure Hello Kitty toys. Really.

Excuses R' Us

noreply@blogger.com (Topspin Thamby) — Thu, 07 Apr 2005 11:59:01 PDT

Again, we're terribly sorry. We're dying to post but we're just all really busy sial. You see we The High Levels are constantly challenging ourselves in a bid to outdo each other (think the Navy SEALs when they invented the Ironman Triathlon). As such, we are currently trying to see how many papers each of us can squeeze into a weekend period. Some of us however, are already on tilt...

So tell you what, I'll ramble on for a coupla paragraphs and we'll call that a post.

I got a call from a very excited tRYATHLETE last nite. It seems, Techno, Token and himself were recognized outside of FongSeng by a High Level reader.

To that High Level reader:
If the boys seemed somewhat reticent it was only because they were taken aback by your approach and they were coming to terms with the enormity of the event as you spoke to them. tRY last nite and Techno when we spoke earlier assured me that had they been more collected and together, they'd have at the very least offered to buy you a tay..errr..teh-tarik if and after you had turned down their intial offer to autograph something. Token Manjen since this afternoon in fact, has been working on a script to more effectively engage such future approaches on the street.

Personally, I've known these lads for awhile now, and like me, they are all that extremely shy sort. Except maybe The HEAT who has had considerably more experience in dealing with this sort of publicity.

Which brings me to...

The High Level Team of the Month

The High Levels would like to congratulate the NUS rugby team (albeit f@&#%$g belatedly) on winning the IVP tournament. You can catch them performing their Hakka live @ Taka this Saturday.

Finally...What I have learnt about myself this week:

That I don't speak Tamil well enough to conduct NE quizzes in Tamil. Then again its not really my fault. Growing up I never had friends called Jega or Loga or Kurumbian...Still don't, come to think of it.

The High Level Hustle

noreply@blogger.com (The High Levels) — Fri, 01 Apr 2005 03:40:11 PST

A query came across the High Level Messenger the other day. All names have been altered to mask identities.

Premkumar: Hey man, I'm listening to the retro on the HL radio blog... I'm dancing to it... but Nicole (his girlfriend) refuses to join me... "It's retarded!!" is what she said, before promptly proceeding to chuck my brand new Tevas out the window. What's the HL thing to do to people like her?

Mr. Premkumar, we at the High Level Project are completely sympathetic to your anguish. Oftentimes, we too have been similarly baffled by such instances of inexplicable reticence. Indeed, it has become increasingly difficult of late to convince younger clubbers of the therapeutic qualities of Modern Talking or the artistic merits of Rick Astley. Regrettably, to say “oh Mambo? Yah I was there last night” no longer effects the same admiration and respect it used to. Where once it was the verbal equivalent of “I rub shoulders with the social elite”, today it connotes “I enjoy consorting with junior college students and National Service types.”

It has been one of the tragedies of our generation that many have ignored or resisted the euphoria of Mambo nights. Fret not valued reader, for the High Level Project is pleased to present a step-by-step tutorial detailing some of the easy-to-learn gestures, gestures that have given Mambo nights a unique, and distinctively Singaporean cultural flavour. Once she has acquired the rudiments of these techniques, she will be unquestionably convinced that ‘retro’ and ‘retarded’ are not utterable in the same context.

Our demonstrator will elucidate the essentials in a rigorously choreographed medley. Note the static position of the demonstrator, who does not permit the temptation of footwork to affect the execution of the hands gestures. In addition, it is likely the reader would find walking about a trifle cumbersome on the teeming dance floor.

Elbows aloft, forearms swivelling back and forth. The preliminary motions to most songs.

Here, he illustrates exactly why we shouldn't blame it on the sunshine, moonlight or the good times but on the boogie (see radio blog).

In this segment, our demonstrator gestures his availability to the ladies in concorde with Spagna (ibid.).

Lastly, the High Level step, where he personalizes the gestures into a combinational sequence for added flourish. Observe, for our demonstrator, how the little smile at the end of the sequence proves irresistible.

Model: The Chowzzer
Hair by Somewhat Lacking Studios
Makeup by Photoshop

Our Humble Entry for the 'sexyblogger' Campaign

noreply@blogger.com (The High Levels) — Tue, 29 Mar 2005 06:58:08 PST

The High Level Guest Contributors Series

noreply@blogger.com (The High Levels) — Wed, 30 Mar 2005 21:42:55 PST

I CAN LIVE WITHOUT A GIRL BUT I CAN'T LIVE LIKE A TURD

I was with tRYATHLETE and Techno Telugu in his room last night when we made the High Level observation that serap girls only go out with Turds. Although I thoroughly disapprove of typecasting people, this has become too common an occurance to be ignored any longer. Along the trajectory of our discourse then, I pointed out that if the aforementioned stereotype were true, Occam's Razor dictates that to get a cute girlfriend, one must first be a Turd. Through a great deal of empirical study(our own) and ecumenical debate(between the 3 of us), we came to the conclusion(well, tRYATHLETE did anyway) that it's just not right to compromise your principles in situations like these. Simplified, "I can live without a girl, but I can't live like a Turd". According to the strands of our discussion, it turns out that we might have to wait for the stars to align and the blue moon to rise on us again before this situation is reversed. This of course didnt reassure me much being as it were both vague and unlikely. But desperate times sometimes call for a kick in the seat of the pants.....so to speak.

Token Manjen Before the Glenfinished

/open random ramblings

And then there are the dreams. Not so long ago, I loved my dreams...I loved going to sleep...I loved to dream. Now I'm afraid to close my eyes. The quasi-reality of the dream always makes me suffer in the morning when I wake up to find that reality bites.

/end random ramblings

What to do with a problem you have no answer to? Walk away I suppose...nothing I can do about it now; nothing that I'm brave enough to try anyway. Escapism? I wish I had an escape - somewhere to leave my thoughts behind. Unfortunately folks, I'll tell you this much, there is just no escape from the world of the Arts Canteen.

- Token Manjen

Token Manjen is a High Level in training. He would've graduated after this post, but he swigged a coupla shots of Glenfiddich and started spouting cock like the Manjen that he is. Clearly, he's not ready.

Terror Hits Home...

noreply@blogger.com (tRYATHLETE) — Sun, 27 Mar 2005 10:27:26 PST

Clementi, Singapore

A terrorist attack in the National University of Singapore last week almost claimed the bag of an undergraduate but otherwise didn't seem to pose any danger to the Arts Faculty Canteen. The visibly shaken undergraduate describes how a projectile of sorts ripped through his bag as he was having lunch in the hugely popular and crowded Arts Canteen.

"I was just sitting there having lunch with my friends dei when i smelled smoke. I looked for the source and saw smoke wafting from a hole in my bag sial. In a calm and collected manner i put out the small fire... I mean it was only burning through my notes and I never read them anyway" - Naga (not his real name)

The Carnage

Experts from the NUS Campus Security, after detailed investigation of the bag, explained that it was highly unlikely to be anything but a terror-related attack.

Any doubts as to the source of the attack were quickly erased when the terrorist group Al-Qaeda claimed responsibility for the attack, with a photograph released to the news agency Al-Jazeera.

The Arts Canteen is a popular place with tourists...

In the statement, Al-Qaeda demanded the repeal of the increase in cigarette prices in Singapore as well as the release of several alleged insurgents currently held in Gitmo - if possible. They mentioned also that the removal of speed cameras and traps would also be "welcome, but not really necessary".

The Singapore authorities issued a defiant reply stating that "Singapore does not deal with terrorists", and that "you can shoot at the Arts students all you want, we don't need them anyway, those slackers."

Feed the Habit

noreply@blogger.com (The High Levels) — Fri, 25 Mar 2005 02:06:01 PST

High Level fans take note:

Now you too can be creatures of High Level habits. The High Levels are now syndicated!

Being the cultural auteurs (read: attention whores) that we are, we've decided to reach out to our readership via the RSS (read: we've finally learnt how to make the damn thing work!). But as you can see, this gesture has come at a tremendous costs; we've seem to have lost our white border and all the chicklets are cluster f*&%#d because the scripting keeps f&^%#@g up.

But that's our problem...so please, if you know how, help us fix it!!

Death Be Not Drunk

noreply@blogger.com (The High Levels) — Tue, 22 Mar 2005 18:47:45 PST

The passing away of tRYATHLETE's pet hamster last Saturday, came as a sudden and unexpected shock. The High Levels and some well-wishers came together last night to celebrate the life of Jabroni the Hamster.

Jabroni, you will not be forgotten. RIP.

Absent with much apologies (we're sure): Tay-Tarik

What It Should've Been...

noreply@blogger.com (Topspin Thamby) — Tue, 22 Mar 2005 03:55:34 PST

In my last post I said something to the effect that Tay-Tarik was probably on a tennis court somewhere getting his arse severely whipped by his girlfriend.

What I actually meant to say was that he was "probably dropping a coupla sets here and there to a very good friend. But by and large he'd be giving a good account of himself. How's that for courtsmanship eh?"

So ladies please, continue to harbour your secret hopes of winning his attentions much in the same way that you hope to marry Jay Chou someday. And please, whatever you do, don't stop reading...we'll be back reeeeally soon. Now abit shack la. *buka the big smile all*

Timeout

noreply@blogger.com (Topspin Thamby) — Wed, 30 Mar 2005 03:57:12 PST

It's gonna be a quiet few days folks.

All the High Levels are off somewhere in their neutral corners either shitting out term papers or pretending to be flustered about not understanding Game Theory. I for one am only 4 pages into this 15 page rubbish I'm spouting that's due on Monday. And this is on top of the Deviance paper I have due on said Monday as well. Anyway I figure that even if I miss the deadline on that one, at least the social audience i.e. the good Dr. G*na will appreciate the deviance of such an act without engaging in acts of otherization using ethnicity as a master indicator.

Anyway here's an update of what everyone else is up to...

Tay-Tarik:
He's either in the canteen working on his paper or on the tennis court getting his ass severely kicked by his girlfriend....how's that for courtship eh? In anycase fans, he assures me that he has a big post planned in the next week.

tRYATHLETE:
Probably sleeping after punishing the Game Theory test...

The HEAT:
Probably ironing his socks for the big Cleo pageant...woat for him here!

Techno Telugu
Definitely sleeping...Dei thanx for lending me the book dei. You're in my acknowledgements at the back of the essay...right after Chomsky for actually writing the book.

Tek-Sappot:
No idea sial...probably attending to missed calls. (Private joke...don't worry about it)

Right then, we'll see yall in a few days. Until then, remember to share the darjeeling.

The HL Dictionary Word of the Day

noreply@blogger.com (tRYATHLETE) — Fri, 18 Mar 2005 11:11:17 PST

bu·ka \boo-KAH
v. tr.

1. To execute (an action)
You think you buka the taekwondo all I scared ah?

2. To cite
Wah you high-level ah, your essay you buka the Foucault all...

3. To indulge in, consume, partake of, use
I'm thirsty man, what say you we go Breko buka the Heineken?

4. To play (music or other media)
Roll down the windows and buka the La Bouche, we're going on a Techno Driveby!
____________________________________________________________

buka is the Malay word for open

The HL Encyclopedia

noreply@blogger.com (Tay-Tarik) — Wed, 16 Mar 2005 11:46:52 PST

In our ongoing series of linguistic invention, improvisation and adaptation, The HL Project presents another increasing popular instance of English adjusted for local consumption, in the truthful and honest Singaporean spirit of anyhow.

Entry: Jack(ing)

1) To discredit, disparage, or cast aspersions.

Listen to the shit he's saying! I'm going to jack him nicely.

2) To humourously ridicule, tease, or satirize.

And then he said he know why you fat. Cos your mother so fat, that whenever she jumps for joy, she gets stuck. He's jacking you sial.

3) To imagine an arbitrary or innocuous situation as a personal affront.

I can't believe that serap is going out with this garoupa-lookalike turd. What a jack.

4) To attribute personal ineptitude to bias.

How could he give me a C+ for this paper? He's obviously jacking me.

5) (Rare) A flattering description of a woman's physical proportions. Elocuted as jaaaaaack.

Look look! She's bending over to fill water! Pantat jaaaaaack!

Resident Torment (PGP edition)

noreply@blogger.com (Tek-Sappot) — Wed, 16 Mar 2005 00:52:22 PST

This entry is dedicated to the countless bodies of student who are/were staying in a hostel or university residence. (also applicable to most HDB precincts)

Contrary to the popular belief that living alone on campus is a whole load of fun; which it actually is, there are however times when the clock tends to tick a tad slower and you start to examine the bumps on the walls of the corridor (by then, your China-man neighbour who packs his family .. mom, dad, 2 sis, a bro and a dog for lunch, will probably be thinking that you have just flipped from an overdose of Dragostea Din Tei). Fret not, the HLs have conscientiously conceptualised remedies... so you can either stop blasting your woofers, or switch to La Bouche or Espresso.

THE HL CURE TO YOUR HOSTEL BLUES

STEP 1: Get yourself some drinks .. find a well-lit bench and practice the "Tangkap".

If however after 5hrs, no one still bothers to talk to you or acknowledge your existence, move on.

Step 2: Find a suitable ledge, perch carefully on it *avoid premature falling...from grace as it were*

If you are in a rush, get off the ledge, use the staircases or lift to get to the groundfloor and continue with STEP 3.

Step 3: Upon reaching groundfloor, find a suitable spot, lie down with limbs streteched out in an awkward manner. *Do practice this position, like 5 times, in your room to avoid looking like a silly-drunk who just tripped on himself*

At this point in time, some serap (if available) in the vicinity will probably be thinking that you fell from the ledge and might possibly come to your aid. IF, however you hear shouting from your floor and the ground shaking, it is probably just your neighbour and his whole family plus dog rushing down the stairs. In this case... use initiative, get up, find another suitable spot where your neighbour can't see you through his windows, and lie down in the practiced position again.

IF ALL FAILS ...

IF all of the HL steps for curing boredom fails, go back to your room, write a "farewell" note .. go to a different ledge and repeat STEP 2, this time however, do follow the direction of the red arrow. Do not worry about the previously practised lying down position.. by now it should come naturally. Carry on with the pics below...

After STEP 2 *by following the red arrow* turn back from the ledge and return to your room (to avoid unnecessary attention) and contemplate what went wrong.

Do take your time contemplating .... we assure you that Steps 1,2 and 3 have been thoroughly and rigorously tested and have not failed us before. Updated versions with graphically illustrated manuals can be found at all dodgy Sinseh shops.

Credits:

Safuan, who would like to be thanked for participating in the making of this post.

The New Minority

noreply@blogger.com (Tay-Tarik) — Tue, 15 Mar 2005 23:59:43 PST

In our milieu of post-postmodernity and post-postcoloniality, we at the High Level Project - in our scrupulous documentation of the constantly altering facets of our culture - have noticed the emergence of a new breed of minority. Gone are the days when prejudice, discrimination, ostracism and above all abuse was heaped upon the bemused and unfortunate Indian/Malay/Eurasian. Gone are the days when women were denied jobs, or given jobs with lesser pay. Also very much yesterday are the equally distasteful and cruel subjugation/flagellation of our Filipino/Indonesian/Sri Lankan domestic helpers (as clearly ascertainable by anyone who happens to walk by the very thriving and very exotic Lucky Plaza on any given weekend). Prejudice and Discrimination are no longer meted out according to colour, creed or gender. The almost ancient practice of P & D now targets the hobby. The New Minority is, even as we speak, being increasingly driven into margins by harsh legislation, virulent taxation, and the hostile, disapproving glares of middle-aged women with permed hair. The High Level Project is proud to furnish our readers with a comprehensive list detailing the types of prejudice exerted upon this dying (in more ways than one) breed. Stop discrimination now, lest the New Minority be eventually forced the way of the Dodo, ultimately vanishing for posterity. Then you'll be sorry. We are proud to present, the new undertrodden, the new marginal figure, the new Native-American, the new Other, the new disenfranchised...the new subaltern...

The Smoker (and High Level Ways to Not Alienate Him)...

1) Take every opportunity to beam at a smoker.

2) When seated next to one, do not demonstrate your displeasure when smoke drifts in your direction.

3) Instead, grin and politely fan the smoke away with your lecture notes.*

4) When a smoker tries to light up next to you, rush to offer him a light while patting him congenially on the back.

5) Refrain from marching up to the smoker shouting "stub it out!" Most smokers are fragile and delicate creatures, susceptible to emotional distress when cowed.

6) Avoid constructing distasteful jokes with the phrases "power gas" and/or "power stick". E.g. "You're playing like shit man! I think you need a power stick."

7) Offer a tactful gum/mint in place of "eeeee you smoke ah?"

8) Do not approach a smoker and point indignantly to the "No Smoking" sign directly behind him. Insinuating another's illiteracy is tantamount to barbarism.

9) When confronted with coughing fits from congested lungs, it is unbecoming to stare pointedly at the resulting coloured spittle on the table top.

10) Point out gently to the smoker contemplating his laptop that his cigarette ash is about to fall onto his keyboard.

*In some circles, fanning is considered ungracious and discourteous.

High Level Methods of Ending an Argument

noreply@blogger.com (The High Levels) — Sat, 12 Mar 2005 12:29:57 PST

We at the High Level Project have noticed that since Bazin, every man and his mother thinks they're a critic. You just can't walk from lecture to tutorial anymore without running in to a contentious bastard on the way. Nobody tends to win these things; all that happens in the end is that an innocent by-stander ends up being late for class. As such, we have come up with ways for you to end all arguments and be on your way ASAP.

It is with pride then, that we present The High Level Methods of Ending an Argument.

1)Don't you think that's a tad bit polemic?

2)Begin your reply with, "As Benjamin says..." This particular method is also useful when you're trying to catch the attention of a particular girl in class.

3)That is so bourgeois....

4)Shout "Don't interpellate me!"

5)And if all else fails, "Bhaiiiii....you dunno what you're talking about. You're a tok coccckkkkk!!"

Before using however, please ensure that you're not caught up in the dispute with a High Level.