Monday, July 31, 2006

do not wake me up when September ends.

Jess is making her way down to mine in a taxi as we speak, armed with a tiny, tiny fraction of the belongings which she had garnered in her four years of living in the UK. Which is about four big luggage bags, I believe. And I dread the inevitable - having to move out of my flat when September rolls round, and this means PACKING and PACKING and more PACKING. What am I going to do with my 60 vinyls and 60 scores and 80 storybooks, I don't know. And there's the duvet and pillows and CDs (which are still at Danny's) and while seemingly unrelated, let's not even talk about coursework.

So she's going to stay over for the next 2-3 weeks, as mentioned somewhere below, so say hello to days of delightful mayhem and revelry work work work work work! The two of us will be very hard at work indeed, struggling to finish our coursework by our respective due dates. This also means an influx of posts here, as that incorrigible disease called procrastination begins to possess my corpulent form once more. Hmm, had it ever left? I wonder!

It's going to be very hard to say goodbye to all my loved ones and friends which I've made here in my four years of holiday university here. But I suppose, some things have to be done, and people will have to move on, yes? How much can I cherish every breath of the soon-to-be-foreign wind, how much can I continue to savour the bittersweet tinge at the tip of my tongue before spitting it out, how long can I carry on trudging with the expiry date stamped on my forehead like a condemned prisoner, I'm not very sure, but all I know is that I have to manage somehow.

Ah, presently missing what will be missing in the future, seems so insipid and foolish! I'm really too emo for my own good.

Anyway, I'm not supposed to write my swan song yet. It's beckoning, but I will run away as long as I can, and hide under my vinyls and duvet of memories, until my eyes are prodded open with the malicious toothpicks of reality. So till then, please do not mention the linear properties of Time, let me jump back and forth as and when I want to. Do you know that I've my very own Time Machine right here in my room? I can hear the envy in your silent eyes, but you have your very own too. You just need to want to have it hard enough.

Btw, I wonder if there's any way I can run away from London and not pay my electricity bills..? They're ridiculously exorbitant. Maybe it's time that I start trying out for the National Lottery. With my kind of topsy-turvy luck, you never know if I may hit jackpot! What would I do with a million pounds!

Friday, July 28, 2006

vell, the point i vonted to make woz J L J L J L J.

Jess came down to spend a night over at mine yesterday, and she'll be staying over for the next 2-3 weeks. We watched the Break-Up, gushed over Jennifer Aniston and dissed Vince Vaughn. Had a good geeky girly session listening to all 4 movements of Schubert's String Quintet in C and catching up. And then, we realized that the names of my good friends mostly start with the letter J or L. How strange is that?

Friends and lovers - with names that do not begin with J or L - I still love you!

And before I go - something to share with you guys, and I apologise for the poor quality resolution of the pictures. These are some fondly remembered phrases from my tutor at King's. Heez German by the vay.

HAHAHAHA I LOVE MICHAEL FEND

Thursday, July 27, 2006

feeling pained.

If you ever, ever attend a classical music concert, please do NOT:

1. Clap in between movements e.g. symphony, concerto etc.

2. Cough/fidget/clear your throat in between movements.

3. Cough/fidget/clear your throat immediately after the last note is sounded, or before the conductor has lowered his baton to his side. And it doesn't mean you can do it at any other time during the on-going performance.

4. Talk during the performance.

5. Answer/Make a call on your mobile.

6. Wear those annoying electronic watches that go beeeep at every hour.

I'll think of more tomorrow. Additions to these golden rules are more than welcome from all of you!

That being said, the Proms I attended last night was harrowing. I'm not sure if Yang'en and I can ever recover from the brutal experience of having our favourite Brahms's symphony desecrated by incompetent fools random minions. It was a downright massacre, all the more worse because I knew they could have done it much better, and heard very rare glimpses of its unmanifested potential - what it could have been. But seriously, which idiot on earth would build up climaxes and not follow it through? And he'd indulge in such exaggerated caesuras, and done in such bad taste! I came back home trembling in shock and a fair bit of rage, and had to soothe my traumatised ears, by listening to 4 straight playings of Szell's impassioned conducting of the very same symphony. It's the 4th, btw. Okay, elitist rant over.

Edit: Yang'en's review of the concert here --> clicky-clicky.

Monday, July 24, 2006

oversleeping.

Catching of breath, when there's none to be caught, the plummeting feeling of knowing that you haven't done what you're supposed to do, that you had wasted all that time on futile sleep, you told yourself just an hour, which turned into two, and then three, and then a multiple of three, and you wake up with two turtle-brains from the lingering nightmare of having disappointed all your loved ones, which still reigns terror over my heart, I was supposed to perform three pieces but I couldn't finish learning them, and I couldn't even sightread them and the performance was in an hour, it was terrifying facing an expectant audience and sight-reading the pieces in front of them, and the look of sheer despondency on your teachers' faces sheared through flesh and bone, and I had to walk through this basement which looked suspiciously like the Old Far East Plaza as punishment, purgatory, which was littered with ghosts with flying feet, the stereotypical long-haired long-tongued hospital-gown clad visages which kept zooming about like Nintendo action figures, bam bam bam, they would crash into the walls and emerge from the other side wholly preserved and through the real people in my dream, and all of them would be none the wiser, none the wiser, and they continue smiling foolishly because they didn't know what had hit them, and they would circle around me in mocking silence, because they knew I knew, and yet I didn't, and they knew that I knew that I somehow knew and didn't at the same time, and they opened their mouths and you can't see anything inside, they've swallowed their tongues like those stage performers who swallow a torch of flame or a very long sword, but you can see the concrete laughter bubbling out in white-and-black dotted rhythms, I'm serious, I'm serious, and you know what, I think I'm slightly hyperventilating so I'm going to stop typing now, get some food, and get down to the 20 sheets of graphs which I promised my teacher today, and I've 4 hours to churn them out, so here goes.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

one thing at a time.

I know women are supposed to be able to multi-task, but I really can't do it. I can't listen to music and do work at the same time, I can't MSN and eat at the same time, I can't even talk on the phone and listen to my vinyls simultaneously.

The truth is out - I'm a boy! Hello, my name is Petrushka!

Monday, July 17, 2006

I bet you're an Aunty at heart too.

You're an Aunty in the making, if:

1. you're primarily concerned about saving every single second. For example, you know exactly where to stand in Queensway tube station, so that when you get off at Holborn, the staircase exit would be right before your feet. And vice versa.

2. you must be the first in everything - entering the lift, exiting the lift, entering the tube carriage, exiting the tube carriage, that kind of thing.

3. your shoes make that resounding click-clack noise which everyone associates with an Aunty.

4. people give way to you. Everyone gives way to the rude Aunty who jostles her way through the crowd.

5. the only person using a brolly in the bright sunshine is you.

6. you engage the bewildered Londoner on the street in a game of let's-see-who-can-walk-faster.

7. you can find a random assortment of tissues in your bag from Caffe Nero / Starbucks / Costa Coffee. If you're hard-core, you can find toothpicks from Joy King Lau.

8. your favourite past-time is no longer shopping, but grocery shopping.

9. supermarket receipts dated March are still in your wallet. You never know if you can use it to redeem points.

10: even your flatmate who's a guy remarks on your dressing: "You look damn Aunty lah!"

After that, there's really no turning back!

Friday, July 14, 2006

it's one of those days.

I think I like to be in control, by allowing myself to be controlled by the mediums I choose, and I think that sets me 'free'.

Does that make sense? I mean, look at the number of operas / music / books / food that I devour!

But if I'm currently being controlled, the relinquishing of whatever right I had to be in control counts for naught, because I'm no longer in control.

Deception lies naked somewhere in the above paragraphs, can you discern the turning point? Assuming that it's only one, and not two, or three, or even four?

Come now, my hysteric pretties, in the search for your personal intangibles - let's stampede the world away!

Sunday, July 09, 2006

procrastinating #x.

Sometimes, I wish there's a dream job out there, where someone will pay me good money to practise piano for 5 hours daily, watch concerts for free, and devour opera scores the same way I gorge on chocolate (I'm thinking of Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro). And in return, all I have to do is to profess my profuse love for music without writing 5000words on it. Just 200words will be enough. And maybe just one dissertation a year. Yes, I think I can handle one a year.

It sounds like the job of a reviewer, doesn't it? As Dominic and Yang'en will testify, I think I'm bitchy enough to be one. Now to convince MOE that I'd be an excellent critic. If not, I suppose I can fall back on trying to convince them that I'd make a fantabulous teacher only at the undergraduate level. This way, I don't have to aurally witness students attempting to produce those screeching pitches from the blasted recorder. It's a bit too painful on the ears.

World Cup finals today - who're you betting on? Of course, there's the animosity between the English and the French, but I'm supporting Italy not because of that, and not because I think they will win, but for the most superficial of reasons - because I like Italian opera! So anything Italian goes.

Come on, Italy.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

birthday photos part 2, and 800quid.

Sorry I'm a bit late with these:

We had dinner in Leicester Square, and ordered a bit too much food, but we can always count on Lenny to finish everything. =) See the purple wrapped presents? That's Dominic's gift to me of many, many vinyls - including FIVE operas, Verdi galore! Thanks everyone!

You know, I was wearing a real pretty dress today. Just to make things clear, I did, and do NOT look like a strumpet. It's not even the least bit revealing, and it's a knee-length dress. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

So I walked into HMV, and this random bloke came up to me. Looked fairly decent, black blazer, collared shirt, that kinda thing. He asked me if I liked shopping ('trying on clothes' was the exact phrase he used), shoes, bags, etc, and if I could be so kind as to spend the rest of the day with him, doing just that? As in he'll just accompany me shopping. He'll be like my silent shadow. Oh, and that he'll throw in 800quid as well.

Sigh, tell me - does my face scream 'Aunty' or 'Hooker' or 'Aunty-Hooker' now? Which one is it? Of course I said no, but I can't help thinking what I can do with 800quid. I can buy 800 vinyls. I can buy 233 Schenker manuscripts. I can afford to pay my library fines at least 4 more times. I can even get rid of my ancient dinosaur of a laptop and get a spanking new one.

He then exclaimed: "Not even for 800quid?" Look love, 800quid is not worth bulldozing through the massive throng of scavengers along Oxford Street on a Saturday. Well, not really anyway.

Even though the money was never mine to begin with, I can't help feeling that I've had a net loss of 800quid. And I've lost those 800 vinyls which could have had been mine. But that's like saying that because everything has a possibility of being mine, and it isn't, I've potentially lost everything that should have been mine - which is quite silly, don't you think? We don't even own ourselves, you know.

Oh well! There's no more time, move along now. (But I hate running.)

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

birthday photos part 1.

Deluge of photos coming up!

I turned a year older on Monday, and celebrated with Jo, Lalang, Jeremiah, David and Johannes. We had a lovely picnic in Hyde Park, where the weather was compliant and showered us with a bit too much sunshine, and there were the most intriguing cloud-formations juxtaposed against the glorious blue sky. The girls both baked me a decadent chocolate cake each (which was totally unplanned, talk about uncanny coincidences), and both were yummylicious! THANK YOU!

Those are my gorgeous presents from Jo and Jeremiah - chocolate, junk food, captured memories, all of my favourite things! And other caught moments of frolicking in the sun, bubble-blowing, akido trials and of course, it's never complete without beer!

You can't really tell from here, but see that guy in the background? He was running up to us in the most camp fashion imaginable, asking for a bottle-opener. It doesn't sound so funny when I put it down in words, I guess it's one of those moments where you had to be there. After death by the two shooters of the nastiest rankest alcohol I've ever tasted in my life (which doesn't really count for much), the night took on such an illuminating radiance that I was immediately bewitched. Or rather, I looked bewitched - think "ruddy red face". ('Bewitched' sounds far nicer than 'intoxicated' or 'drunk', don't you think?) Throw in a heady mixture of great company, laughs and more alcohol - you've the recipe for the splendid culmination of a birthday celebration, clearly evident from the last snapshot.

These photos are taken from Jeremiah's camera, and there are a few more over here. Part 2 coming up soon, photos with Jess/Jing/Lenny and Dominic's gift to me, so check back in a day or so. I love birthdays again!

Saturday, July 01, 2006

wrong season to hibernate.

Let me lie in the coffin of my bed, and furiously sleep the summer away.

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.