Tuesday, June 27, 2006

pleased.

Dominic lent me his vinyl player, so I've been splurging on records. All these gorgeous historical performances! My CDs are largely still at Danny's, haven't gotten round to collecting them for the past 9 months -cringe- but no fear, no fear, 2quid vinyls are the way to go. My small but growing collection is listed below, and feel free to borrow anything from me:

Opera:
Verdi's Aida
Verdi's La Traviata
Puccini's Manon Lescaut
Puccini's Tosca
Debussy's Pelleas et Melisande
Mozart's Cosi fan Tutte
Mozart's Don Giovanni
Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice

Piano works:
Chopin's Etudes Op. 10/25
Chopin's Preludes Op. 28
Chopin's Impromptus, 3rd Ballade, Scherzo in C# minor, 4 Mazurkas
Chopin's Piano Sonata #2 and random pieces
Mozart's Double Piano Concerto
Schumann's Piano Concerto in A minor

Vocal works:
Bach's St John's Passion
Chausson/Ravel songs
Debussy's Chansons
Handel's oratorio "Saul"
Mozart's Requiem
Schubert's assorted Lieder
Schubert's Goethe Lieder
Schumann's Fraudenliebe

Chamber works:
Schubert String Trios in B-flat, String Quintet in C
Schubert String Trio in E-flat

Orchestra:
Brahm's Symphony #4
Mahler's Symphony #1
Tchaikovsky's Symphony #4
Tchaikovsky's Symphony #6
Stravinsky's Rite of Spring/ Seiji Ozawa
Stravinsky's Rite of Spring/ Markevitch
Strauss's Don Juan etc

Most of them are 2 quid each, isn't that amazing? I even got some for 50p, and occasional discounts when I buy in bulk. Now, that's quality. My poor CD player, it's being ignored. But with the money I spend on records, I can only get at most 3 CDs (blatantly ignoring HMV's summer sales, as Jo has pointed out to me), but I assure myself that I've been saving loads of money. And there's so much more that I don't have on CD or LP, and I want to buy and listen to them all!

Dominic and Yang'en, I know you guys loathe French music, but listening to Boulez's recording of Pelleas et Melisande makes me such a happy girl! Why, I swear it's possible to get trippy on good music. =)

Okay, I've finished squealing, back to bullshitting writing essays.

she procrastinated @ 20:34 |

Saturday, June 24, 2006

traviata, but none the wiser.

Favourites change from time to time. For example, my favourite piece used to be Verdi's La Traviata. Then, it was Mozart's K.516, String Quintet in G minor. Debussy's Pelleas et Melisande took over, followed by Schubert's Winterreise song cycle, Berg's Wozzeck/Lulu, Corelli's trio sonatas, but Mozart's Requiem kicked all that aside, before it was replaced by Verdi's Aida. Bach's keyboard partitas were always a very close second. And now, I'm wavering between La Traviata and Aida. Hmmm, I just realized that my favourite pieces are mostly vocal works. You'd think I'd have at least mentioned Chopin, and I do adore his works.

I suppose I don't really need to have a favourite piece really, but it just happens, you know? Very unwillingly, I subscribe to the detested notion of having a 'favourite', or many 'favourites'. Organized hierarchy rears its ugly head once more.

It makes me think about the concept of faithful constancy, and I marvel at my own changing tastes as time passes. Each time I realize that something new has replaced the old, I feel an incredible sense of guilt. Have I been unfaithful? But to whom? Have I betrayed? But who, or what did I betray?

And I listen to all these operas, where the characters profess undying love and eternal devotion to each other (most of the time anyway), and I feel a sense of cringing disorientation, an awkward dislocation within, that tells me otherwise. But the music is so convincing, and for a while, I believe, and after it's over, it ends there.

I think I'm far more 'spontaneous' than most [Dominic might term it as 'rash', or 'fickle' ;)], always making all sorts of reckless changes on my own, with nary a thought to the consequences. But it's quite strange - I can't deal with the changes that are not instigated by my own hands. What do you know? I'm an orthodox control-freak at heart. So much for being a free-spirited musician! Perhaps, there really is some truth in that tiresome slogan, that all musicians are perfectionists - and therefore, control-freaks.

Midsummer's Day on the 23rd of June has come and passed, what did you do to commemorate the longest day of the year? Why, I can't even remember the person who I was yesterday. I suppose this is what it means to grow old - without any trace of bitter regret, just tainted by that ochre tinge of resignation.

she procrastinated @ 22:26 |

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

london chronicles.

1. In my 1st year, I mistook shampoo for conditioner - so I basically shampooed my hair twice everyday. I didn't even realize until Selena asked me: "Why do you have two shampoo bottles in the toilet?"

2. In my 2nd year living with Sunsun, nothing of this sort happened, apart from excessive use of hand moisturizer. My hands were too slippery to open my bedroom door from the inside, and I actually missed my class. Hard lesson - I don't use hand moisturizer anymore.

3.In my 3rd year, I mistook my facial cleanser as facial moisturizer for about 2 months (the bottles were similar, okay?).

4. In my 4th year, today, I mistook shampoo for soap and soap for shampoo, and only realized it because my hair smells different.

Well, there's not going to be a 5th year even if I fail my Mmus (which is looking more and more likely everyday), so I suppose the chronicles must end here. Well, by October anyway. Anything can happen from now till then, huh?

En garde!

she procrastinated @ 14:25 |

Friday, June 16, 2006

bitching fit.

I really, REALLY hate having menstrual cramps. I've never ever had them until the start of this year. And they really hurt like... like... Poseidon twisting his trident deep into your insides, twirling, twirling, like he's about to eat pasta off a fancy plate, except it's your coiled intestines that he's playing with here, not some random unfeeling strands of linguine. It's not the most pleasant of experiences in the world, I'm afraid.

And I'm so annoyed that it actually made me miss the last bit of Alfred Brendel's piano recital at the Barbican. ALFRED BRENDEL!!! As Yang'en puts it, he's the pop music's equivalent of Christina Aguilera or something (whoever's in fashion now, I can't really keep up). I missed the finale because I spent it in the toilet cubicle, clutching my tummy and writhing in agony, deciding between hurling and not hurling - quality.

You know what? I can't believe I'm incensed enough to actually blog about menstrual cramps, and I'm sorry I've made the whole world privy to such a personal matter. Not that sorry to delete the post, but sorry enough to end my post here.

she procrastinated @ 23:52 |

Thursday, June 08, 2006

i must be back in singapore.

I've been bumping into many fellow Singaporeans these days. Well, 'bumping' isn't quite accurate, the words 'bombarded' or 'besieged' or even 'assaulted' are the first that come to mind, but that seems a bit too exaggerated. Still, I reckon at least half of the Singaporean student population have decided to spend their summer holidays in London, and they're everywhere. Left, right, up, down, centre, upside down, right-side up - in Tesco, in Hyde Park, in the tubes, in Whiteleys shopping centre, and even in the toilet.

Don't get me wrong, it's great to see familiar strangers on the streets of London, and I smile a little smile everytime I see them standing around, looking a little lost and bewildered: "Eh, where is Topshop?" "Where is Lay-chair-ster Square ah?" You can hear them a mile away from the pronounced Singlish that they all converse in - with a smattering of Chinese and Hokkien and lahs and lohs and jialats. You'd be surprised at how distinctively nasal the Singaporean accent is.

Actually, you can even spot them ten miles away. For example, I was just minding my own business at Caffe Nero today, trying to get some reading done. And lo and behold, two Chinese girls sauntered in and plonked themselves at the table adjacent to mine. Firstly, they are identifiable as "Singaporean" by their figure - short (relatively), stick thin, snake-hipped, sharp elbows (weapon used to defend themselves against dodgy people in Zouk), flat-chested and of course, the pre-requisite tropical tan.

Secondly, their clothes are a dead giveaway - plain spaghetti-strapped top (looks like Giordano), check. Indecently short denim skirt (looks like Levis), check. Printed girly slippers (looks like authentic Birkenstocks, I'm surprised they're not from Charles and Keith), check. Little tote bag (looks like it's one of those from Far East Plaza/Heeren), check. Cutesy colourful phone-chain (also looks like it's from Far East Plaza/Heeren), check. Carrying a Starbucks ice frapp into another coffee chain (notorious Singaporean habit), check. Oh dear, I'm grossly stereotyping, but how stereotypical of them to prove me right.

And of course, the accent. They open their mouth and speak:

"Yah loh! I tell you already, seeing your "B-F" (boyfriend) all the time, is super the jialat one okay! But what to do! Haiyah!"

"A bit the sian ji pua, hor?" And it carries on in this vein for quite some time. Later on:

"Dunno why also, that ang-moh came to com-plee-ment me leh, and I was like, why he come and tell me I'm so pretty for what ah, he got nothing else better to do is it? But I'm quite happy also lah! Hee hee hee hee hee!"

Somehow, those once-endearing colloquialisms have now morphed into vengeful arrows and I feel the painful and arduous passage of each one through my void of my head. It's not as if I don't drop lahs and lohs at the end of my sentences, so I don't know why it bothered me. Maybe it's because I'm no longer accustomed to the sound of my native speech from another Singaporean, maybe it's because I have 97 days to write 45,000 words and I'm dreadfully stressed, but dear Lord - the sheer number of uttered 'lahs' and 'lohs' in the past 5 minutes!

I lost count after 20, and I figured I have better things to do than to keep track of their conversation. Such as arguing with the book that I'm currently reading, as to why Salzer's graphical analysis is wrong, and how appalled I am that the esteemed editors actually sanctioned it for print.

Anyway, it's actually quite funny when you take a step back and observe ourselves from another cultural point of view. I'm rather amused at our little idiosyncrasies, although I'm sure Dominic will beg to differ. =)

97 days left and no words written! I'm astounded by my own efficiency. Then again, I'm easily impressed. I suppose we all have our flaws.


Disclaimer: The above is just my subjective and admittedly narrow-minded opinion - no offence meant to anyone, and none should be taken!

she procrastinated @ 23:09 |

Sunday, June 04, 2006

priceless!

I just wanted to plug Yang'en's review for the musicOMH website which Dominic is heading, so clicky clicky. I like to share good stuff with my friends. Choice bits of the review here:

"...I found it impossible to conceive that the RPO was capable of such lacklustre performances."

Ouch.

"Presenter Tommy Pearson was also a bit of an enigma - his jokes ranged from brilliant to simply bad, and I do not think anyone would ever mistake him for Tom Cruise (as he claimed). Perhaps the Force needs to be with him a little more."

The next bit of it relates sexual orgasms to music (have I caught your attention now?), so please head over to his review here to find out more. Or if you're too lazy, check back within a few days and the enlightening paragraph will be up for all to read and enjoy.

Yang'en, I think this is the funniest review you've ever written!

she procrastinated @ 03:58 |

Friday, June 02, 2006

i really shld be.

Jing's coming down in an hour or so, which leaves me no time to pack up my room (no more floor space) but enough time to blog. Look at the way I prioritize my life! Somehow, I don't think it's so much procrastination that is my downfall, but my skewed perspective of what is important.

To commemorate her arrival, I finally bought two lightbulbs for the table lamps in my room (I haven't gotten round to changing the one on the ceiling), so that it'd be relatively brighter for her (Woman>> the lengths that I go to just for you!), so yes - I no longer need to live off the light emitting from my laptop - the friendly canopy of darkness is lifted after two weeks or more. Oval halos of soft amber now illuminate my room, like the hushed rays of the morning sun, and it's terribly foreign. I'm extremely uncomfortable and restless with these new additions, as if there's an itch bothering me but I'm not quite sure where I should scratch.

I finally went up to Durham for Jing's XXth birthday (she protested against the disclosure of her actual age - all of you - go wish her happy bday anyway!) and I was rather disappointed - the vision I had in mind of Durham was that there'd be sheep using the traffic lights to cross the road, and occasional hares attacking dogs with their long ears and pointy teeth. Alas, none of that happened, but I got to see almost all of Durham, including the cathedral and part of the castle (and the Music library!), so that was pretty good. Oh, and let me dispel a myth here and now: everything in Durham is NOT within walking distance. Do not let Tang Hui Jing deceive you with her words - it's really not that small!

Progress report - I've finished 80% of my Chopin graph (6 pages of A3 paper), and 80% of my Corelli graph (also 6 pages of A3 paper), so I've exactly 45,000 words left to write and at least 20 A3 Schenker graphs to draw for my dissertation. Yang'en has kindly notified me that I have 104 days left before my glorious death is upon me, so I'd better make full use of my remaining days left in London - watching concerts, watching more concerts, that kinda thing.

You know, I really love learning, just that - I wish I had a choice in the content of the lessons that are being taught to me.

Anyway, we'll be meeting Jess for tim sum and a belated bitching session tomorrow afternoon. Lenny's touching down from Canada on Sunday so it's going to be a mini-reunion of sorts - how exciting! Busy, busy weekend. There should be pictures in the next update (Jing's camera is her real best friend), so stay tuned.

p.s. Dominic, where are you?!

she procrastinated @ 20:35 |

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.