Jaffry Jalal Hi. My name is Jaffry Jalal.

(Yes, pronounced like ‘Jeffrey’ but spelt with an ‘a’ and without ‘e’. Not Jefrey with one ‘f’ though. Lots of people get my name wrong and it used to be a big deal when I was younger. Everything that is not a big deal was somehow a big deal when I was younger. I managed to snag jaffry@hotmail.com back in the day before I concluded it was not a big deal. But I still don’t like seeing myself in photographs.)

Jaffry is a UX designer, art director, and educator who plays at the intersections of insight, creativity, and discovery.

(From time to time, he sometimes speaks in the third person, which can be somewhat disorienting or sound like something really momentous is going to show itself. But invariably does not. Most likely a coping mechanism to deflect attention from his true self. He was a big fan of the reticent Ultra Magnus in the 80s. And also the nerdy Willow in the 90s. Jaffry ought to stop this pseudo out-of-body frame of reference and get back to the old-fashioned first person singular.)

I am currently serving as a lecturer at Singapore Polytechnic’s Design School where I coach people to make stuff.

(Admittedly, ‘make stuff’ may sound pompous and deliberately enigmatic. It is, however, a lot more economical than saying that I teach, create, and facilitate in the areas of inter­action, inter­face and visual design, frontend proto­typing with HTML, CSS & JavaScript, art direction, and user research methods. So there.)

Previously, I was in advertising for 17.11 years as a digital art director, visual UX lead, and the occasional code monkey.

(Once, at a job interview at an agency, I was asked what the greatest goals in my life were, to which I replied, “Almost any­thing by Robbie Fowler.” The Creative Director didn’t laugh. Maybe I should have used ‘from’ instead of ‘by’? Anyway, I wasn’t laughing after that either. That weekend, I had the best iced coffee in my life. Must’ve been the non-soy, gluten-full, no-fats-removed-whatsoever milk.)

To fight the tyranny of routine, I enjoy taking little detours and brief excursions in search of coffee.

(If you pinched your nose and drank coffee, the taste will be bitterly disappointing. [YOU WILL LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT DOING IT SO DON’T - TAKE MY WORD FOR IT] Without the olfaction, coffee gustation lacks gusto. Coffee joints—here I exclude hawkers of coffee flavoured milks such as Starbucks—transmit wonderful aromas that keep out the chatter of hipsters enthusing loudly about buying rope-dyed pants handsewn by anti-capitalist cool dudes living in an Andalusian farming village where the aforementioned dilettante tailoring dudes also grow a special strain of salvia hispanica in limited quantities for their Instagram friends. As it were.)

If you want to talk about pants, suggest a coffee detour, or just say hello, I can be reached at jaffry@dullneon.com.

(I figured jaffry@hotmail.com wasn’t so hot when I could get my own domain name in 1998. Which I then did. I can’t always do local coffeeshop kopi; my body fights back with gut wrenching reflux. I’ll have ginger tea. It's fantastic. Would you believe it if I told you I know someone who knows someone who has this friend whose ex-colleague’s third cousin, twice removed, makes a mean ginger tea for a living?)

You can also find me on LinkedIn.

(Despite the current landscape, social media can be a force for good. But the current iterations are nothing more than global stock exchanges of posts, likes, hearts, streaks, tweets, retweets, and how many connections you have. If anything, there should be a federated social network of messaging platforms, so we can reach anyone on any network with any brand of telephone an interoperable messaging app. A possibility as unlikely as Richard Stallman using a pay toilet.)

That is all. Goodbye.

(Well, you’re still here. In that case, I need to let you know…)

For unsolicited messages regarding copulatory medication, unbeatable loan packages, or money from Nigerian royalty, you can send emails to honeypot@dullneon.com.

(Once upon a memory, I used to have a pen pal, who, one day, asked me, quite forcefully, to halt my correspondence. Was it because I was as vile as a spammer? Possibly, as in my letters to my erstwhile pen pal, I didn’t provide an unsubscribe link. As a wise fox once said, what is essential is invisible to the eye. And with that, I bid you adieu.)

(You’re still here.)

(Well, guess what? Despite the pinball chaos of speeding asteroids in space, we are all still here and quite alive on Earth, whose rotation is slowing slightly with time.)

The time in Singapore is now 11:55pm. .

(With less than 7 continuous hours of sleep, my logic gates become foggy, instructions get processed far slower, and decision trees recursively devour themselves ßy br≡aching 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔦͡𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔡 ¢hasm between this wΘrld ùnd the previouš whích devours the peštifœroús hΦwl oƒ other lifeforms ǝɹǝɥʍ sı ǝɥʇ ɹǝuoɔןɐɟ, the <center> cannot hold. ░/ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ░n░o░t░ ░c░o░m░e░ ጎክ የቿልርቿ dᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴏyɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ɪɴ ᴜɴʜᴏʟy ȺđɨȺŧɨvɇ đɇsŧɍᵾȼŧɨøn with pain lea͠ki̧n͘g fr̶ǫm ̡yo​͟ur eye͢s̸ ̛l̕ik͏e of ]]c̶̮omes he ᵒh f⊥⊂k no NO NOO̼ comes N​ot rè̑ͧ̌aͨl̘̝̙̃ͤ͂̾̆ ZA̡͊͠͝L ISͮ̂҉̯͈͕̹̘̱ T -}O͇̹̺ͅƝ̴ȳ̳S̨̿̔̀ͅ…

(A good 8-hour sleep the following night, followed by breakfast, fixes everything.)

Breakfast is probably my favourite meal.

(The morning meal is an excellent way to celebrate that one has awoken from what turned out to be an impermanent rest. Lunch is better utilised for naps so screw that. Breakfast for dinner is exciting because it feels like a transgression and yet no one gets hurt. I wish I could have a roti prata with fish curry every day. But because frequent fried food could induce a permanent rest, I save it for special occasions. Like weekends.)

So that I can eat whatever I want on weekends, I prescribe to a pescetarian diet on weekdays.

(Highly scientific, I know. People ask why I don't just say “a diet that's mostly vegetarian but also includes fish and seafood” instead of using a big word like pescetarian. To which I ask “Why use eleven words to describe something when one would do?” It’s like using a HEX code instead of waffling around trying express a colour.)

I am currently quite infatuated with the colour #af95d2, overuse the word inconformable, and find myself listening to on repeat.

(I have fixations over small things that change across points in time. The objects of fixation change, not the objects themselves, of course. However, if we are talking about transmuting stuff, I’d like to snap my fingers to convert my 800+ music CDs into accurately ripped and tagged FLAC without manually having to use XLD and Picard.)

Mostly because I prefer the FLAC audio format, I usually buy my music from bleep.com or Bandcamp.

(I’m not into Spotify and cloudy music rental services. I prefer buying music outright if only to avoid the bifurcation of my existing collection. I don’t have a lot of money to pass down to my kid so my music, organised in intricately named folders, will have to do.)

My current playlist:

(My listening habits have been on Last.fm since 2005. If my reading habits were up online, it’d consist almost entirely of Wikipedia searches via Google for whatever fatuous thought or fact void in my head. That’s what everybody with a smartphone and stupid fast data plan does, right? Right?)

I’m an open book. I tell you everything.

(If they remade Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind as a Chinese film, would Clementine speak Mandarin? I’ll sit in a quiet corner and think about it for a while. I won’t be offended if you don’t.)