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
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.
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-
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@
(I figured jaffry
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@
(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 ̡yo͟ur eye͢s̸ ̛l̕ik͏e of ]]c̶̮omes he ᵒh f⊥⊂k no NO NOO̼ comes Not 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.)
My current playlist:
I’m an open book. I tell you everything.