Sunday, February 27, 2005

some of my sch mates.

As promised, I'm going to gush and gush abt Lou's playing at the concert tonight. But first, a recap of the night's programme:

1. Mozart's Overture to Don Giovanni
2.Ravel's Le Tombeau de Couperin
3.Shostakovich's Piano Concerto (starring Lou!)
4. Mozart's Symphony No.40 in G minor

And Lou was STUPENDOUS!! All that hard work paid off. [Congrats babe, on a job well done!] You guys oughta have had been there, she played beautifully. It was such a challenging concerto, full of nightmarish octaves which involved a lot of nifty fingerwork on her part. I especially loved the 3rd movement.

Being the entranced idiot that I was, feverishly clapping after her piece ended, I completely forgot to take a photo while she was playing. By the time I whipped out my camera, it was too late and all I managed was one dodgy photo:

And I'm not a bad photographer: it's just bad timing, okay?? I didn't even get a proper shot of Lou in her gold dress, such a shame, cuz she looked gorgeous. Here's a cut-off:

That's Ewan on the right, my fellow comrade-in-war aka Advanced Analysis classmate. Superb conducting from him tonight.

Here's a random photo taken at the Lyceum that I never got to upload:

Going from left to right, that's Kish, Lou, Will and Mary. Kish (pianist) has sadly departed our fair isle for gloomy (but gorgeous) Vienna to read German, only for a year though. The two of us and Lou used to hog the piano practice rooms together. (The proper word is actually monopolize, but let's not quibble over inconsequential things like that.) Of cuz that's Lou Lou, no introduction needed. Will's also a pianist/cellist and a fellow analyst. He's in my Techniques tutorial too. Big hands. Pretty Mary plays the cello as well: extremely musical. She makes me laugh so hard! We share a common bond: we both got chewed out by our lecturer DLW last year. I got my worst mark ever for that particular essay. Ptttf.

That's a much-fatter-and-fairer-and-extremely-sleep-deprived me and Clarinda. Cla's a soprano with a beautiful singing tone. We're in the same A.Analysis and Techniques tutorial, so I see her quite often. She's the only other person that I know (in the Music Dept), who procrastinates as much as me. We take turns to skip Techniques tutorials, and hand up our (late) essays together.

I was going to put up more pictures but I can't seem to find them. Ah well, next time perhaps.

On a separate note, I was browsing thru some blogs, and came across Mr Miyagi's. There was an entry, where he posted a picture taken at a coffee shop off Novena. Good grief, it was such a familiar scene, illuminated with sunshine. How many times have I waddled along that path, and sat down at that same table, basking in the sun? Simple and mundane things that I took for granted back home, unexpectedly carry an extra weight of poignant nostalgia.

In all ways that matter, it has been far too long since I've seen and felt the sun on my bare skin.

Saturday, February 26, 2005

unbearably awake.

Insomnia strikes once more. I was sleepy earlier, but I seemed to have passed that stage in one blink. Balls, I hate not being able to sleep when I really want to.

Sighing doesn't convey any words, and yet, the action expresses far more than words can ever do.

I must have sighed ten thousand and one times today.

And each one with a multitude of unknown and unspoken reasons behind it.

Back to tossing in bed.

Friday, February 25, 2005

all ye lesser mortals, bow down before mitsuko uchida!

Sorry folks, but I'm going to commit the cardinal blog sin: I'm going to write an entry outlining what I did today. *gasp* It's gonna be one of those:

"Today I did this, today I did that. It rained today. I got wet. I didn't do this, but I did that." Blah blah blah. But it's my blog, so I'm gonna type whatever I want. Ha.

It's not often that I say this, but today's a good day. I had a lecture on Strauss's Elektra, I adore that opera to bits. And then, a lecture on "Symmetry in Music", by my all-time-fav lecturer George Benjamin, who's also an amazing composer (yup, he's alive). Very interesting. And...

I got to watch a Schubert vocal recital by Ian Bostridge and Mitsuko Uchida at the Wigmore Hall!!!! It was sold out, but Cla and James managed to get returned tickets. 18quid for the last row, but it's worth it.

The programme was Die Schone Mullerin, which is my 2nd-favourite Schubert song cycle. And let me tell you, it was excellent. Absolutely amazing. Extremely intense performance. I was on the edge of my seat the entire time with a choked throat, and simply absorbed in the sound world that they've created. It was such a raw and powerful experience. Orgasmic.

There were some funny bits though. Uchida was mouthing the text along with Bostridge the entire time, so it's quite funny seeing two identical changing mouth-shapes and you hear only one voice. And Ian Bostridge! Why, he galloped all over the stage. He only settled down at the last two songs, which was a shame. He sang better when he wasn't moving so much. Those last two songs were technically his best.

That aside, Mitsuko Uchida is not only one of the elite pianists around, she's also a fantastic accompanist. Very, very sensitive accompanying from her. The two of them have this mystical rapport: I can hear them singing/playing as one, and thinking as one.

After listening to her perfect playing *swoons*, with all those subtle changes in colour, faultless technique, overwhelming musicality, and her beautiful singing tone... I'm so inspired to practise piano and do more accompanying work. For now. Heh.

Okay, enough gushing for now. I'm saving it for Saturday: Lou (my classmate who's a brilliant pianist) is gonna play the Shostakovich Piano Concerto with the Strand Ensemble! Programme also includes Debussy's Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun (I THINK) and Mozart's Symphony No.40. All are welcome to drop by at Kings College London, Strand Campus, this Saturday at 730pm. Venue: Great Hall. F-O-C.

Ooohh. I want to watch more concerts! More, more, and MORE! There's the Beethoven Violin Concerto coming up, Magic Flute opera next friday, Bach's St Matthew's Passion, Dvorak's Cello Concerto, and tons more!

Happy, happy, happy.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

missing lens.

Argggghhhh.

I was fast asleep at 11pm but I woke up at 2+. Don't know why.

And right now, I want to kill myself for being wide awake. I even had TWO pkts of cup noodles, and half a loaf of chocolate brioche to make myself grotesquely full so I can go to bed, but noooooooo.. I'm more awake than ever.

So.

Just wanted to tell everyone how dangerous it is to fall asleep with your contact lenses on. Yesterday, I was soaking in my bathtub reading an old issue of Heat, and I fell asleep with my lenses on. Woke up an hour later (the water turned cold), found my mag drenched beyond recognition, and I rubbed my left eye.

*blink* Blurred vision. Huhhhh?

My lens disappeared.

I thought I dropped it into the bathwater, but I could distinctly feel something at the top left corner of my upper eyelid. I quickly ran to the mirror, looked at my reflection and tried to look for the lens.

But it was nowhere to be found. I freaked out right there and then.

Okay, I may have been wearing contact lenses since I was 16, but I'm still squeamish about it. I'm a wuss: I still don't dare to touch my bare eyeballs with my fingers.

So there I was, stark naked at 230 in the morning, jumping up and down in my toilet, trying to take the freaking lens out. I tried to flip my upper eyelid, but I didn't dare to. The thought of it was just.. gross. Trying to pinch it didn't help, it made my eyelid extremely sore. I even tried crying, but for all my Academy-Award winning skills for acting (lying's my forte), my eyes were painfully dry. I didn't have eyedrops either.

I then spent 5 min rolling my eyes in every direction, at varying speeds, before my lens deigned to make an appearance. Sheesh. I was half-resigned to the possibility of an eye operation. All that worrying for nothing.

Okay, end of missing lens saga. Moral of the story is: never sleep with your contact lenses on.

And uh.. never rub your eyes when wearing contact lenses.

p.s. I just wanted to say it snowed in London today. There, I've made the obligatory "It's snowing in London!!!" post. Bah. The slush brings back bad memories of OBS. Think rain and brown swamp. Ugh.

p.p.s. Yes, I'm grumpy from the lack of sleep. w984v57w3nptlesrkp9w83youiktvgih

Friday, February 18, 2005

pineapple high!

The best part about Chinese New Year (apart from angpaos), is the food.

I swear: there's nothing like eating pineapple tarts during this season. I know they're available all year round, but it's different when it's CNY. It's special.

Not to mention peanut cookies, pineapple tarts, love letters, pineapple tarts, peanuts, pineapple tarts, sweet candy, pineapple tarts...

Orgasmic.

My only rant abt festive goodies in London, are that they're astonishingly stingy with ingredients. My pineapple tarts from Leicester Sq Chinatown are 95% pastry and 5% pineapple filling. Nothing like the ones back home. Thinking of my favourite Tau Sar Piah stall at the corner of Balestier Road. *drools* (Ooooh I miss tau sar piah toooooo..)

At least I got some yummy (albeit squashed) pineapple tarts from home. :) So I shouldn't whinge, eh? My family refused to send me any this time round, my mum said I'd get even fatter *sniffs*. Hmph.

I've finished my stash already, going to buy more tmr. Yeay! Here's to more pineapple tarts!

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

schumann and what not.

Learning the Schumann piano sonata #2 in G minor. And omg, it's such a bitch to play it.

It has all these alternating octaves, and disjunct leaps of one-and-a-half octaves (13 white notes), and the fast block chords and voicing.. I'm going MAD.

I've got hold of two recordings of Schumann's Piano Sonata #2 in G minor. One by Percy Grainger, and the other by Ian Hobson. I couldn't find the year that Grainger recorded, but presumably in the 1st half of the 20th century since he died in 1961. Hobson recorded his in 1991.

And so. It's nice to know that Percy Grainger stumbles over the same problematic places. It's also very reassuring to know that it's playable (gasp!) after listening to Ian Hobson's virtually-perfect recording.

On the other hand, it's far more enjoyable to play Schumann as compared to Birtwistle. I've been spending hours counting quavers, semiquavers, and demisemiquavers. And trying to sub-divide them. There's an especially crazy part where I have to play 4 quavers in the time span of 4.5 quaver beats in the L.H. against 5 notes in the R.H.

Don't ask.

The winner has to be Ligeti. Which idiot writes music for both hands in different keys, where the R.H. plays only black notes and the L.H. white? And may I add that they are in different time signatures?! I hate it, because I instinctively add black notes to the L.H., or white notes to the R.H. and I've to start all over again.

As you can tell, I'm getting increasingly fed up of practising, especially when there is no improvement to be seen.

The only thing I'm getting out of practising piano are skinnier fingers and a bigger butt from sitting down all day.

Oh. And Happy belated Valentine's Day to all.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

the problems of being Lynne.

Or rather, the problem of looking too bulliable.

On the way home last night, I took bus 188 bk and dropped off at Senate Hse. I was the last passenger. In the short distance from the bus-stop to the traffic light, I was accosted by two tall and cadaverous-looking teenagers, who were lurking in the shadows:

"Spare change?"

Brilliant. "No."

I did my own watered-down version of a Hemlich-manoeuvre, side-stepped them, and walked away. But nooooooo, they followed me. They attempted a friendly smile, but it just made them look like Margeret our receptionist (i.e. they came off looking dour):

"Doncha have any spare change at all?" Something like that, their speech was too slurred for me to understand, but I got the gist of it. They don't want small change, they want all of my money.

There wasn't anybody near me, unless you count ppl in cars zipping back and forth along the main road that was oh-so-near-and-yet-so-far-away. Please don't tell me I'm going to get mugged again, especially if they're teenage brats. It'd be so embarrassing.

So I gave them my best impersonation of a nutter, complete with the customary cross-eyed gaze and slack lips (I don't know how to produce drool on the spot to complete the 'look'), and grunted a negative.

Then I ran for it. Towards the traffic light, and never before had HSBC @ Russell Square looked so inviting. (When I see HSBC, I think of my depleting account.)

I looked back, and the two of them were gone. Small boys after all. Chee.

I'm not too sure if it was the cross-eyed look, or the slack lips which put them off. Maybe it was both. Or the fact that I already made it to 'civilisation'.

So I had my first exercise of the year (yes, sprinting to anywhere irregardless of the circumstances and distance counts as exercise), my first encounter of being mugged/robbed/whatever, and my first tube of Pringles since the start of CNY. Bought (and finished!) it at Tescos as a reward for not getting mugged. Cheese and onion's the best.

I really need to look less bulliable. If this carries on, I'm going to end up bullied by pigeons.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

why me?

I knew I was always the 'Ultimate Sway' and that I'm perpetually cursed with bad luck. Not life-threatening, but little irritating incidents, like falling down, getting my luggages stolen, having my bag silt by gypsies, my phone pickpocketed.. your average run-of-the-mill 'bad timing' events.

So, why is it that out of TEN people on the table, out of TEN fortune cookie packets, did I have to pick the one that read:

"Failure is the mother of success."

........ The probability is like... 1/10 times something something (I could never do 'Probability' in C maths). And it HAS to be me right...

I'm not supersitious, apart from the occasional 'touchwood', but this seems like a divine sign, heralding my dubious and murky future to come.

Really. Why ME?!!

The night ended perfectly when tube doors bumped against my head. Yup, take note: I did NOT knock my head against the doors, THEY knocked against my head.

Damnit, even inanimate objects are bullying me.

Happy Chinese New Year to you too.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

first fall of 2005.

There's nothing better (right now anyway) then eating King Prawn Fried Rice after a session of piano practice.

And chocolate-coated peanuts.

And cereal.

And cheddar biscuits.

Ok ok, I shall stop here before I gross myself out.

Oh, and yes: today is the 1st time I fell down this year. A record - 5 weeks without kissing the ground. It happened in my room a few minutes ago: tripped over Morrison's plastic bags and earned a purple bruise on my thigh. I didn't think I ate that much to the point of losing my sense of balance.

Seriously, how glam can I get..?

Monday, February 07, 2005

wussy slimeball.

I never knew You were capable of such cutting and harsh words, with the full intention of hurting someone else. You knew exactly what words would hurt most deeply, and You still chose to use those triggering keywords to deride and crush that person. How could You.

I don't get it. I really don't.

Even if the other person may have hurt You before, intentionally or otherwise, petty vengeance is by no means a justifiable reason. Grow up, You limpdick.

You are now officially relegated to the H2 category.

Sunday, February 06, 2005

amused.

I attended a Gilbert and Sullivan musical with Lou yesterday, and was very amused to see someone conducting at the orchestral pit..

..with rather exaggerated gestures.

All she needed was a towel in her hands, and she'd look like she was washing windows.

And birthday hollers to Crosby back home. Happy 14th birthday, and don't you DARE keep my angpaos for yourself.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

fuming.

I retract my statement from yesterday's post:

My piano teacher is NOT cool at all. Repeat. N-O-T C-O-O-L.

Full-stop.

procrastination and maria.

If reading my own essay puts me to sleep, I can't imagine Chris Wintle's reaction.

He'd probably make yellow drool marks all over my project assignment.

I think this one's a 2.2 grade. Sigh.

On a brighter note (I like the note G#), my wrist doesn't hurt anymore. Yeay. I can start playing again.

I'm going to have my 1st piano lesson of 2005 later tonight. (Actually, ever since last November year 2004.) My fiery Bulgarian piano teacher is back in town.

It's out of point, but I have to say this: She's the only person I know who wears really tight, skintight, black leather trousers. (Lyndon>> Actually, I think she can pull off red ones.) She's got tons of boots too, enough to rival Joanne's collection. The ones with toothpicks for heels.

She's the only person that I know of, who is able to spout expletives in perfect rhythm, with the gorgeous sounds she evokes from the piano.

She's also the only one, out of all my lecturers and teachers, who can sight-read anything faultlessly. (Timothy Ku too actually. Hmm.)

In other words, she's cool.

I haven't practised piano since Thursday. Coupled with the lack of sleep, I hope I won't be too off-form tonight.

*Crosses fingers very tightly*

Omg! My essay! Back to Rhetoric and Schutz.

*edited at 0440hr: I'm hallucinating from the deprivation of sleep. I keep seeing this black thing whizz past at the corner of my right eye. Wtf.

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

And there were phlegmatic souls.