Thursday, October 28, 2004

come, let us find elements of BDSM in Wagner.

I've an article given to me by my dodgy lecturer for Analysis class:

"Masochism in Schubert's Music".

Okay, it's official. Musicologists have either too much time on their hands, or they are just plain off their rocker.

she procrastinated @ 12:29 |

Monday, October 25, 2004

fingers are not moving, ears are not listening.

Why does nothing... nothing... go the way you want it to.

I know, I know... "Everything is in your hands." "You control your own fate." "Only you can help yourself." Yes, yes, yes. Most of the time, anyway. Like. Good grades. As long as you put in effort and study properly, you oughta at least get a pass.

Of course nobody just wants a mediocre pass, but that's besides the point.

Another example: you want to be a brilliant pianist? Practise piano everyday. After all, you oughta improve by virtue of consistent hard work, yes?

But we all know that the ideal notion of 'effort being proportional to results and success' is pure bullshit. It's a fallacy, a lie that our forefathers concooted up to console themselves over their failures ("We didn't work hard enough, that's why we didn't succeed"). It's empty encouragement for them, to continue vain pursuit of their elusive dreams.

They've passed it down to us through countless generations, where we've internalized it to the point that it's hard to accept that:

Hard work does not guarantee success.

Knowing and accepting it are very different matters.

I reiterate once again, that there will be times where nothing, nothing will go the way you want it to. And it also applies to the predictaments and dilemmas encountered in life.

It's annoying that what little control I had, what little remnants of my self-dignity, are slowly leaving me. In the most tormenting fashion ever endeavored, where the pain is almost exquisite. An isolated art-form, I can coldly look at it from an outsider's vantage and point of view.

There I go again, whinging away.

Stop it, stop it, stop it. I want to write happy thoughts.

Then again, I came across a quote by Fanny Fern, which seems appropriate here:

No happy woman ever writes.



she procrastinated @ 16:32 |

Friday, October 22, 2004

lynne embarks on a world-wide courtesy campaign.

Why are there so, so many shrewish louts who delight in taking the piss out of people? What happened to civility and basic courtesy?

My fingers are itching to wring somebody's neck.

Remember my internet problem?

Spent all day calling those idiots every 10mins from 10am to re-activate my connection, but the line would either be engaged, or no one would pick it up. Someone finally answered at 1410hrs. Just when I was congratulating myself on my perseverance, I heard a nasal screech from my mobile:

"We're fucking closed, damnit!"

That anonymous woman slammed the phone down, followed by a mocking dial-tone.

Wtf?? You bitch!! I immediately rang back with full intention of hurling obscenities back at her, but nooooooo the trollop pointedly ignored my calls.

So now I'm left with no internet for the weekend or more. And I'm infuriated beyond words. I wish I could just get through to that harlot, and give her a bloody piece of my mind. (Not that she'd care.) Would it KILL her to be civilised and say: "We're closed for the day"?? Would she roll over and DIE if she does that?? Would she??

I know it's silly and petty to be so irritated over such inconsequential matters, but despite knowing that, I can't help the way I feel. I don't normally get pissed off. In fact, as Jing, Jess and Abby like to say: I'm The-Woman-Of-All-Tolerance. I've this amazingly huge capacity for absorbing and internalizing all kinds of shit. But if there's one thing which I cannot tolerate, it's bad manners.

I wish all types of bad social behaviour would take on tangible and combustible forms. So I can gather them together, borrow Joanne's zippo lighter and take immense delight and satisfaction in setting it aflame. Then I'd sit back with a smirk on my face, and watch them burn as they slowly disintegrate into fine ashes.

What a heartwarming sight that would make.

she procrastinated @ 15:50 |

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

check this out.

I love reading PorkSTA's blog. She never, NEVER, fails to crack me up.

Thumbs up to this entry: 'The Little House'.

I really oughta get my own lighter.

she procrastinated @ 11:30 |

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

My net is down. I got caught for downloading media files.

Oh, bollocks. ^&(*%^&%&(^%.

It's so inconvenient without immediate access to the internet. I couldn't email my essay over, so I had to lug my laptop across the block to Marcus's room to print/email it. [You're my saviour, Marcus!!! S-A-V-I-O-U-R!!] I dug out my laptop battery, slid it in, pulled out the plug, and voila!

The screen went blank.

Had a series of heart palpitations on the spot, and I would KILL myself if my work had been erased but thankfully, all went well. Got it printed out, and handed it up at 505pm. 5 min over the deadline but hopefully my tutor wouldn't penalise me for that.

I swear it's me, things somehow always happen to me. I must have a word imprinted across my forehead that says:

"Strike me down, I'm a sucker for disasters."

Did I mention I fell down while running after the bus today? And the bloody 168 bus just sauntered right past me. And I dropped 10 quid while sprinting the short distance from the bus stop to college.

Someone's 10 quid richer.

So am I: I've got 50p on my knee.

she procrastinated @ 17:38 |

Monday, October 18, 2004

full circle.

Whoever says it's possible to learn from your mistakes?

I'm about to embark on an exhilarating journey of sleepless nights, crisps, chocolate and green tea. It sounds pretty neat actually [I do love my Walkers], as if I'm going on a movie marathon, or my Reading week where I basically just bum around. But it's different when I've a ponderous objective to fulfill like coursework and ridiculous deadlines to meet.

For example, I've exactly 24hours upon daybreak to complete an 3000word essay. Which I've not started.

I never learn, do I?

Anyway, quick summary of Paris: awesome! [Jing and Jess: I miss you guys already!!!] We had all sorts of mini-adventures *wink wink* and somehow, we were really lucky: we weren't mugged and nobody lost anything. Okok, Jess lost her 'Parisian hat' and her sunglasses fell apart in my hands (I SWEAR it wasn't my doing) but apart from that glitch amongst others (we nearly missed the Eurostar both ways), it was pretty good! There's nothing like touring other countries with your best mates.

Here's a shot:

Bring me back to the-land-of-PAstRIeS now. Please.

she procrastinated @ 02:52 |

Thursday, October 14, 2004

4 days in paris.

Off to Paris w Jing and Jess! SO exciting!!!

But I've no roaming on my UK mobile, shucks. Going cold turkey for four whole days without a mobile line is going to be traumatising.

Till then, you folks take good care yah?

Au revoir!

she procrastinated @ 01:56 |

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

annoyed.

Why do some people struggle with something so easy, such as basic courtesy?

One example, could be merely saying 'goodbye' at the end of a phone call. I hate it when people end the conversation abruptly with the curt click of a button. It's bloody rude. Will it kill you to mutter a 'fare-thee-well'? Even if you don't mean it?

Another illustration, would be to give acknowledgment when it's due. Recognise it and express your gratitude. Sincerely. Otherwise, forget about it.

Really. At this day and age, I'm appalled at how basic social etiquette can be such a foreign concept to some people. Then again, the notion of common decency is such an elementary one that it can only truly be lost, on the extremely thick-witted.

In light of this, perhaps I shouldn't blame them for not being able to comprehend simple matters, such as: the intrinsic value of good manners.

Point to note as well: you should never bitch about your peers to other peers. Word gets round, you sucker.

You know who you are.

she procrastinated @ 04:00 |

Monday, October 11, 2004

homework.

Taken from J.S.Bach's Cantata BWV 105:
Herr, gehe nicht ins Gericht mit deinem Knecht.

Wie zittern und wanken Der Sunder Gedanken
Indem sie sich untereinander verklagen
Und wiederum sich zu entschuldigen wager.
So wird ein geangstigt Gewissen
Durch eigene Folter zerissen.

I tremble with horror beholding the wicked
for Lo, Thy commandments he daily transgresseth
the poor and the needy unjustly oppresseth.
How hardly shall they find forgiveness
who will not repent of their wickedness.

This is for my Techniques course, where I've to write stylisitically like J.S. Bach.

I wonder just how many musicians are out there, emulating the style of a dead bloke.

I've chosen the above text for my Baroque aria. Isn't it beautiful? It has lots of potential for the music and word-setting to be drama-mama.

So far, I've theatrical pauses (for Lo!) and I'm relishing every bit of the melismatic and oratorical declamations (the po-o-o-o-or and the ne-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-edy).

It's coming along morbidly, but surprisingly well.

I like.

she procrastinated @ 03:09 |

Sunday, October 10, 2004

it takes two hands to clap.

Let me just say it one more time:

I.

HATE.

UNPACKING.

It forces me to unearth all sorts of nasty shades and wraiths that should be left stagnating in the dark boxes. Out of sight, out of mind. This way, they'd be forgotten, indefinitely erased from the records of life.

It'd be better if I can stub it out directly, like a cigarette butt, but it'd leave a permanent scar. And my threshold of pain is pretty low.

On this very night, I'm literally coerced to confront my doppelganger, who had lived in London for the past two years.

People change.

There are two in the room, where there ought to be just one.

And yet.




Listening to Somewhere Over The Rainbow and Fools Rush In.

I'm missing one side of my gloves.

she procrastinated @ 03:20 |

Saturday, October 09, 2004

lemme indulge for a bit.

I saw Pierre Boulez! I saw Pierre Boulez!!

Went for the concert at the Barbican. Repertoire included one of his works Livre pour cordes, Bartok's Piano Concerto #3 and Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. Pianist: Helene Grimaud.

Just to clarify: yes, Pierre Boulez is primarily a conductor.

I CANNOT believe I got to watch a live concert conducted by him. It's not that I won't be able to watch him back in Singapore. Sure I can. Just that he'd be superimposed on a LCD screen outlined by a black border. I'd get to see him closer up, press a few buttons and I can actually rewind bits and pieces to hear it again. But there just ain't no substitute for the real thang.

It was an amazing concert. Literally hair-raising. For me anyway. I could feel the connection. You know, that feeling that is so right that it clicks inside of you? And you think of nothing, nothing at all but the music. The melody and the harmony and the great sweeping waves of tone colour and texture all rolled up in one. Swooped up, you're in the music.

Great atmosphere, full house. Very clean sound, and very economically delivered.

Paid a fair bit for today's tickets, but it's okay.

Because Boulez's worth it.

she procrastinated @ 03:37 |

Friday, October 08, 2004

I hate unpacking.

And I refuse to do anything about it.

Remember my previous post about how I need clutter in my room? And that my carpet was too bare for my liking? I take it all back.

This is the proof:

Before you guys think I'm an irredeemable lazy piece of arse, I have already packed about 3/4 of my novels. They're hibernating on my window sill.

Pretty small collection for two years in London, but as a poor suffering student who has a LIMITED budget to live on, I can't spend too much cash on books! They're really pricey. (The Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell hardbound set me back by 15quid. Which is 45 Sing dollars.) I still have to buy CDs and scores.

A few close-ups:

This is irrelevant, but I found out something incredible today: Did you guys know Debussy actually composed songs? All this time I thought he wrote for every other medium and genre, except that. Silly me. Went for lecture today and it turned out that he wrote a song Clair de Lune set to Verlaine's text. This shouldn't be mistaken for his famous and popular piano work Clair de Lune. (The downside of 'famous and popular' also means it's now 'elevator music'. Poor bloke.) The vocal piece is SO amazingly touching that I HAD to get a CD of it. Which set me back by another 15quid. Sigh.

I've yet to unpack the mountains of music scores and books and CDs. And I'm fairly sure the number of music books I have are far more than these novels. ARGHHH!!!!! And I've not even unpacked my clothes and shoes and cutlery and boxes and plugs and hairdryer and what not.

I'm going to immerse myself once again with my latest buy. The Jonathan Strange book, at page 136. I love books. I adore them. I accept them in all shapes and sizes, especially the hard-bounds. The thicker the books, the better. (Repeat: B-O-O-K-S.)

Unpacking can wait a bit longer. After all, devouring Jonny Strange is far more important and exciting.

she procrastinated @ 02:02 |

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

photo day.

Okay peeps, here are some shots.

First of all, the ratty piano that I practise on everyday. Which btw, is already the best among the pianos in the basement.

The Bach score which I've been mutilating everyday.

Was at Danny's yesterday, and here's Danny, GooiZhen and Gloria, while yours truly bums on the sofa.

And let me tell you guys: it's not a good idea at all to buy too many things when you're overseas. It's an absolute nightmare when you're moving in and out of your apt. Sunsun and I had TWENTY-ONE boxes between us! We huffed, and we puffed, and we manually dragged all our boxes to our rooms. Slowly. (Yes Selena, I shld have listened to you and not shopped that often. Ahhhhhh) Here's the evidence:

You'd think I'd be scared of buying more items, but nooooooo I must buy more books:

And that's only half of the books I bought since arriving about two weeks ago.

Last but not least, is the lousy view of Sandwich Street outside my window.

Okay, I think you guys are suffering from photo-overload. Enough for now.

Damn, I miss my apt at Bond Street.

she procrastinated @ 18:00 |

Monday, October 04, 2004

shall we dance?

There's something extremely comforting about watching people on rainy days.

Age, colour, race and class divisions dissolve as they all dance to the same tune, cavorting around the murky potholes on the pavement.

I no longer feel alone.

she procrastinated @ 15:00 |

Sunday, October 03, 2004

huge green carpet but no greens in my pocket.

My laptop is fixed! Woohoo!! Big thanks to Joanne for helping me thruout the entire process! *mwahhhh* And to Derrick in halls who had a Compaq Win XP CD. Saviour.

Just realized 'fixed' is a very misleading term. Rather, Karl was reformatted and downgraded down to XP Home Edition. A little discomfitted with it, as it's not as sleek as XP Pro. Before I sound like an ingrate, let me just say that I'm more than happy that everything is in working order.

I've been feeling kinda out of sorts since I've arrived in London. And I've just realized the reason why. It's not because of my increasing predilection for misplacing my items, nor is it the drastic change in environment and weather conditions. I admit that it might be due to the unaccustomed absence of loved ones (I miss you meimei!!), but that's not really it either.

It's simply because I can see the bare floor of my room.

I'm dead serious. It's really disconcerting to be able to walk into rm 326, without the usual stumbling blocks of shoes, books and food. I don't feel right. I need to trip over misc items in my room. I need obstacles in my path, damnit. I can't bear to see the barren carpet, without a melange of knick-knacks lying around haphazardly. Oh yes, they cannot be in order. Everything has to be messy. Tastefully and logically messy. The CDs can be placed in a corner, but they cannot be stacked. Preferably jumbled up and sprawled on the floor for easy access. My books must be exposed facing up at a page, and no distinction is to be made between journals and scores. Ideally, food should be found at all corners of the room. You get the idea.

This is what happens when you attend 4-5 consecutive years of college in the midst of renovation. (For the uninitiated, that's ACJC and Kings.) This means making weird detours around rickety scaffolds encased in green. You get used to the notion of obstacle courses. I'm lost without it, for organized chaos is now the norm.

Storage is arriving tomorrow, so hopefully things would revert back to normal towards the end of this week. Oh, and would you believe Sunsun and I have to pay 700quid for it? Blimey, that's a lot of money. I could travel to Paris twice with that cash.

I need to earn big bucks. Fast. Besides breaking into HSBC banks, performing risque activites at dodgy night clubs and snaring a sugar-daddy, anyone knows an alternative?

I wish we get paid for bumming around. I'd be the top earner.


she procrastinated @ 23:57 |

Friday, October 01, 2004

I've fallen in love again...

... with Johann Sebastian Bach!!!

What a brilliant mind! What a hunk! What an amazing musician!

I think I'm on the verge of an orgasm. (Intellectual orgasm, okay?)

If I don't listen to his St John's Passion on my deathbed, I'm not going to die a happy woman.

Assuming that I'd be happy dying of course.

Hurhur.

she procrastinated @ 17:10 |

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

Old wounds hurt most, I learned this today, becaus...
She speaks, repeating the old litanies, of worn ac...
time skips
and it all comes together!
beethoven's symphony no.7 2nd mvt
again,
towards that something
In the alley of shadows and death
Masking Tape
another end of the world

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

"One is wicked, because one see things clearly." - Beaumarchais's Le nozze di Figaro.

And there were phlegmatic souls.