Saturday, September 30, 2006

328 words so far.

I listen to the words I read, I read into what I listen. Then I cry when the music's supposed to be happy, and I laugh hysterically when it's anguished. Dominic's neighbour must think I'm somewhat mental.

Everything becomes heartbreaking when you know the tragic end.

it turns out that.

I need 5 tea-cartons instead of 4. I was so proud of myself initially, managed to condense everything into 4 boxes but it turns out that I can't even lift them off the ground, and I reckon the boxes weigh even more than I do (the maximum weight for each box is 40kg, and believe me - I'm nowhere near 40kg). There's no way I can part myself from all my notes, think of all the time I spent in the gloomy libraries photocopying! And the effort I spent lugging them home! And reading bits of them! And letting them collect precious dust in the corner of my room! How can I let all these papers go to waste, by throwing it into the bin? Nein, nein, nein!

So 5 cartons it is. Oh well, I've always had a thing for prime numbers.

And everyone - I don't know when I'm coming back yet, but if all goes well, I'll be home very soon, like, er, in a few weeks, er, yah.

I'm aiming to write 7000 words of quality by midnight. I promise I've got it all sorted in my head, just that my brain (what brain?) and my fingers and the screen operate in different languages, they can't communicate properly. I wish there'll be wires I can attach from my brain to the computer, and I'll just have to think, and voila! All the words will appear on the screen in a beautiful and intelligent essay, with plenty of musical examples.

I'm delightfully deluded, am I not? Maybe the phrase should be 'deceptively/deliberately blind'. On the count of three: laugh with me!

Dominic>> I'm very happy - I just played through Aida/Amonasro duet on your keyboard. So fun! Let's play Mozart duets soon!

Yang'en>> Everything okay in Singapore? I just found your Wagner score at home (the cheesy one), I'll ship it back for you!

Sunday, September 24, 2006

hoarder.

The more I pack, the more I realise just how much sentiment and importance I attach to each item. Be it a concert ticket stub, or a top I'd bought from one of my tours, or even a pair of sunglasses - it's crazy how these once-ordinary items are now laden with such tremendous significance. I want to keep every single one of them.

I've been very cruel and ruthless since last Wed, throwing away ALL my concert programmes which I've painstakingly accumulated for the past 4 years (especially those from the Proms), but I've kept the ROH opera guides. All the vinyls, CDs, scores and Murakami books have been stashed away in brown cartons with the help of Jess and James, and my Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell book is now in the hands of somebody I trust. :)

Anyway boys and girls, Lynne's no longer going to be staying at Porchester Square. Starting sometime next week, I'll be staying over at Dominic's (indefinitely! Poor Dominic!). I'm looking forward to it - he'll be trying to convert me to musicals (probably a lost cause), and I'll be trying to convert him to Chinese food (probably also a lost cause). And we'll probably spend the rest of the time belting out arias from Verdi's operas, and playing Mozart four-hand piano duets. Ermm. Apart from working, of course.

Shout-out to Jess: Have a good time! Will miss you loads but I'll definitely see you in a few weeks! xxx

Thursday, September 21, 2006

packingpackingpanickingwillitneverend.

To a few of my vinyls, 30-odd books (including my beloved Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell) and many, many clothes:

"Farewell my lovelies! I will miss you so."

Hello, stress. It's good to have you back on board. Bring out the champagne!

Saturday, September 16, 2006

random things in the morning.

I have a sudden craving for mooncakes and chinese tea. Yes, I know there isn't any chinese tea in this picture, but humour me anyway.

I also have this sudden insane urge to buy a paper lantern from somewhere and tread furrows around my block while carrying it. My hair would be tied up in pigtails. I will chant that pre-requisite Chinese poem that every single Singaporean has to memorize. It goes something like "chuang qian ming yue guang, di tou shi bu xiang", whatever it means, something about a bed and the moon and lowering of heads. All I can remember are the phonetic sounds.

And when the full moon has risen high above, I'd drop the lantern in the centre of the Seven Dials. Who knows? We might see a phoenix rise up from the ashes. Or better still - Mephistopheles! Make the bargain if you will, but trust me - you won't be able to afford the price, much less his interest rates. But I'm not saying anything new, am I?

By the way, I discovered anew today that my tutor's uncle is Sir Thomas Beecham. And I found out that Dominic's friend has a cello given to her by Sir Georg Solti. I wonder if female conductors will ever get knighted one day? Hang on, are there actually any out there? I had entertained foolish thoughts of becoming a conductor a very long time ago, until I realized that I can't hear orchestral colours. Devastated, I hung my head in shame, flung myself prostrate on the ground and begged forgiveness from my piano. Up till this day, I don't think my affronted piano has ever forgiven me for having done so, like how I don't think I've ever forgiven my ears for being the way they are. But all's cool, having perfect pitch is better than having none. I just wish I can distinguish the sound of the clarinet from the bass clarinet, it's such a useful skill to have in life. Like being able to burp on command, or open a packet of crisps with one hand. One step closer to knighthood.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

waving my arms around.

Britain probably has one of the worst public health services in the whole world. Not only is the NHS frustratingly inefficient, they are equipped with the most incompetent of sadistic nurses. They have to poke around in your arm at least THREE TIMES with the most evil of all evil needles, just look at that malicious glint of shiny white at the tip, which screams: "My life is dedicated to the sole purpose of causing you unspeakable pain". And the nurses smile in such a patronizing manner, while blaming YOU for having 'elusive veins'.

In case you were wondering, I'm not the victim here, poor Jo is - she's ill. (Get well soon, Jo!) That being said, I had been subjected to the same torture at the NHS a few months back, where another one of those faceless nurses which they produce out of flatted factories by the truckload, stabbed me thrice in her search for one of my veins. I'm so sure she has a tattooed barcode hidden somewhere. The experience left me severely traumatised. And she was so kind too, she left me three big blue-black bruises as a parting gift. Nice.

Okay, rant over. Oh, and the rain ruined my snow-white pumps, they're now the same colour as that misbegotten son of black and white. Sigh. Time to take my daily dosage of Verdi anti-depressants.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

no memory to call its own.

Internalization - it took me a long time to learn it. But I've lost it - I have forgotten.

It's okay, no matter - I don't mind starting from scratch. If only it'd take half the time.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

it's been 348 days.

I have 17 days left in my Porchester Square apartment. 17 days to pack up all my belongings and ship them home. 17 days to the beginning of all ends.

I look at the room which I have called home for the past academic year, and with the changes implemented around me, or shall I say, the re-establishment of the old, it seems too surreal, too unnatural, that everything is as it was exactly a year ago. As of now, intangibles no longer count for anything.

Stressed out from work, I only have appetite for the irrelevant and the obscure. Junk food has lost all its former lustre and appeal. (Or so I say.)

I think I'm officially depressed.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

taking the piss.

I've been acting out the role of a triad member for the past week, complete with imaginary menacing tattoos of Chinese characters which don't make sense. Everyday, I have a staring competition with John, who lives in the building directly opposite me. At least, I would like to call him John, but his name is probably Chew Chew or something ludicrous like that. He's a dog btw, and a really cute Shi Tzu at that. Why do people give their pets the most ridiculous and demeaning of labels (I won't even call it 'names'), I don't know. I am qualified to judge and deride because my two dogs are called Bubu and Chacha, so I'm on the same derogatory level as all those people out there. Think about it - very seldom do you hear of a pet that's been given an ordinary name. You know what? I shall call my future dog Mr Doubting Thomas. And in the event that he runs away from me when I bring him out for walks, I will yell as loudly as I can: "Come back smoochie-poo-pie-honey-bunny-kins." After all, I'm a blind follower of trends. And ever-obedient - I aim to please.

I also used to have two terrapins, they were a Christmas present. Both of them were male, and I've always wondered if I had kept them long enough - would they turn homosexual due to pent-up sexual frustations? Do terrapins even get horny? They must do. I've seen them mount each other on occasion, but I didn't hear any of the pre-requisite noises, so I figured they were just trying to claim their respective rights to the middle strata of air-space in the tank. Anyway, I called them Bobo and ChaCha. What an exercise in creativity. I'm occasionally blinded by my own brightness, and it's immensely gratifying. You start thinking: "Wow, what an achievement! I'm so capable." Then again, I was a gauche kid of 18 years, what could I possibly know, besides Newton's Third Law, and the sad and misplaced faith in the concept of 'forevermore'? But I suppose there's no excuse good enough in the world to justify lameness in its purest form.

What I really wanted to say today, is that the best panini ever invented has to be the All-Day Breakfast from Pret A Manger, or Caffe Nero. Egg, bacon, sausage - you can't really go wrong with them. Like how you can't go wrong with Verdi or Mozart. That's all from me for today, folks, have a good day.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

best concert i had ever seen in my entire life!

I saw and heard Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic yesterday at the Royal Albert Hall!!!

I saw and heard Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic yesterday at the Royal Albert Hall!!!

I saw and heard Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic yesterday at the Royal Albert Hall!!!

Programme - Szymanowski's violin concerto and Bruckner's 7th. (Who cares about Szymanowski anyway?) Couldn't breathe in the 1st mvt of the Bruckner, nearly wept with grief in the 2nd, danced and did mental phallic thrusts during the 3rd, and in the last movement - I didn't even need to breathe.

I can still feel the force of the strings tremolandi throwing me back in my seat. And the oboist! The horns!

Here's a link to Dominic's review of the concert - clicky clicky.

A shout-out to Yang'en >> hang in there! My phone is on 24/7. Will send your essays back tonight or tmr morning latest.

Friday, September 01, 2006

summer of 2006.

Do you remember sitting outside on the chairs talking, our feet perched on the freshly-painted wood, watching the planes crawl past? I promised myself there and then that we will bask in the benediction of the golden-white rays, through our over-sized-but-oh-so-funky shades, for as long as we can.

Do you remember the cerulean skies with intriguing cloud shapes, the day we gorged on two heart-felt and homemade chocolate cakes, as we watched grown-up men play battleships on the pond? I promised myself there and then that we will forever breathe in the scent of strawberries, and somersault on the green.

Do you remember the brilliantly-lit fairground, the aroma of oily stall-side burgers, and how drunk we all were on our shared camaraderie? I promised myself there and then that we will never forget the sunshine by remembering the downpour, that we will never let go of the present, that this summer - in my mind at least - will never come to an end.

Like everything that I treasure and hold close to my heart, I really, really wanted this to last forever. And in a way, it will - because I will remember, I will always remember - this beautiful summer we had spent together.

May our smiles and memories never cease to fade. Here's to many, many more good times to come!

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.