les petits poissons rouges

I Dream Of....

2006-07-10T22:21:00.000-04:00

The past few days have been spent in a sleepless stupor, no thanks to a restless mind as a result of working 13 hour days for 4 weeks. This time around neither the spirit nor the flesh is willing to work anymore. After about 3 weeks of tossing and turning in my sleep, going over measurements, paint charts and layouts, I had resigned myself to the fact that the nights of dreaming about mountain biking with 50 cent, driving a bus down a street with sharks or chopping my penis off were things of the past.

Until last night.

Without warning, I had one of the most eventful nights of my life. Forget Prospero's sentimental bullshit. THESE are the stuff that dreams are made of:

1) Marlboro 100 and I are in this Thai backpackers town that starts with a 'C', it looks like the city in Waterworld (that really appalling Kevin Costner movie). We're trying to secure a trip to either Bangkok or KL were we will catch a flight to Europe. We battle the crowds before deciding to check at an upscale resort. They have a boat to Bangkok for 19,400 baht and we take it. The guy hands us our travel itinerary, it's a single fold leaflet in comic book format. We hop the boast and suddenly everything looks like a comic strip. We're chugging down the river when suddenly a litle girl's pet monkey almost falls into the river. She lunges forward and manages to catch it by its hind legs, but it's too late. The moment the monkey's head touches the water, it's swarmed by piranhas who kill it, devouring all the flesh off its bones.

The next few a considerably shorter, only because I remember less of it.

2) I'm pregnant with what I think is Superman's baby. On the day of the paternity test, 2 supermen turn up, claiming that he's the father. To test paternity, I have to stand in this contraption that will tell me one of three things: Either I'm
a) not pregnant
b) pregnant with Superman's baby
c) pregnant with The Pope's baby
Anyway, before I have a chance to find out, the 2 Supermen are going at each other.

3) We're underwater creatures - basically human beings that can exist underwater. Someone has this idea of transferring some fish from the sea to our world (as we know it now). So we each pop a couple of mentos, which creates this vacuum effect - its sucks about 5 fishes up our nostrils and into our stomach, which acts like the storage unit. Next thing we know we're kneeling over a toilet bowl, trying to puke up the fishes - only thing is,we failed to remember that THESE fishes bite - so as they're coming up, they're clinging onto our tongues. Not pleasant.

4) Sherbert was left in the office and when we return to the office she has given birth to 2 puppies. Details are fuzzy on this one, but it involves taking a cat to the vet and arranging a feeding schedule for the puppies.

I need a break from sleeping.

Oh Lord, won't you buy me...

2006-06-06T03:48:00.000-04:00

....a Mercedes-Benz and a big fat gun. Because all newscasters on Malaysian radio should be shot. Isn't it funny how whenever the news comes on radio it always sounds like some indistinguishable babble that drones on in the background, that is until a mispronnounciation (or several) turns the indistinguishable babble into jarring noise. Isn't there some kind of spoken-English prerequisite for newscasters? Shouldn't they, before they step up to mic know that mediocre is not "media-core" , loot is not "lewd" and coup is not "coop"?

"Gloria Macapagal Arroyo has successfully prevented a coop on her government." has very different connotations..I see enraged opposition supporters rushing towards the presedential palace with chicken wire, waiting for the right moment to coop them in. Scary. Although I do enjoy a bit of Animal Farm with my politics...oh, but wait, that's a given.

Twiddle-dee

2006-05-19T04:07:00.000-04:00

I know I haven't updated in ages, but work has pretty much taken up all my free time. After, of course rushing publicity materials for a certain production at the workplace, I was casually informed that said production has been postponed to next year. "*&!*@^#&@(*#)(*!!" The whole incident encapsulates my working environment - everyone does their own thing, complete transparency is expected from the employees but none is given by the bosses. I'm really annoyed, because as soon as decision was made, it should have been immediately conveyed to the people working to make it happen, not the next day, or the day after. Gah. Hopefully if all goes to plan, I won't be around for the production next year!

Last night I saw something that had me seriously reconsidering whether to ever valet my car again. I was sitting outside Paddington House of Pancakes, waiting for Mayomi, (who is now the new senior marketing exec at Channel [V]..congratulations!!) at a table right next to the valet counter. So car pulls up, driver exits and the jockey graciously hops into the driver's seat and proceeds to.....pick his nose!! And I'm not even talking about pinkie-scraping picking. This was like index finger rammed up the nostril digging. I was so grossed out. I never valet at Hartamas Shopping Centre anyway, but then I started thinking about the times I have valeted elsewhere and what sort of hidden treasures I have smeared on my steering wheel. Ick!

I want a pair of red pumps.

Going to The Movies.

2006-04-26T22:42:00.000-04:00

Ultraviolet: Botox Nation

Ok, so this past week I went to see 2 movies, which just about fulfils my movie quota for the month, sad, I know, but I don't really have the time. Anyway, the first picking was Ultraviolet, yet another one of those 'adapted-from-the-comic' movies. Generally it was okayyy. I was perfectly content staring at Milla pantene-perfect tresses throughout the entire movie. Anyway, the movie should have been re-titled Ultraviolet: Botox Nation. It was so heavily photo-shopped I felt like I was watching a Manga soap opera. The screenplay (you really had to squint to notice that there was dialogue)...well, there were as many wrinkles as there were spoken word...

(Milla leaps with the dexterity of a thousand cats, decapitating & castrating a thousand evil men..*doof* *doof* *znnnngg* *bish* "uhh!" *thump* *thump* *swish of perfect hair* *ziing* *rat-tat-tat (machine gun fire)* *bang! *bang!*)

"I have recovered the package"

(Milla gets chased by helicopter with big guns. She zips from rooftop to rooftop on her motocycle with the dexterity of a thousand gila monsters, *zoooooom* *zoooooom* *bang* *bang* *KABOOM!* *ping!* *crash!* *dust*)

"But...the package is just a boy"

(Milla escapes from fellow hemophages, running down staircases with the dexterity of a thousand milipedes. *doof* *doof* *znnnngg* *bish* "uhh!" *thump* *thump* *swish of perfect hair* *ziing* *rat-tat-tat (machine gun fire)* *bang! *bang!*)

"I have to save the little boy"

................

Actions speak louder than words, I suppose. But what if the action has nothing to do with the words? Anyway, in the end? A mediocore effort, with it's only saving grace? Milla's pantene tresses. I want them.

Soundtrack to My Life?

2006-04-14T22:55:00.000-04:00

Tagged my Maya. I can't decide whether it's eerily perceptive or relatedly predictable. I think I'm going with eerily perceptive. There's too much reality in Life. Step 1: Put your ipod on shuffle mode. Step 2: Ask yourself these questions Step 3:See what song titles come up in response to your questions...Here goes..

1) How does the world see me?
Conceptions - 4Hero
It's instrumental and wonderfully ambiguous.

2) Will I have a happy life?
Song For The Dumped - Ben Folds Five
"So you wanted to take a break, Slow it down some and have some space. Well fuck you too. Give me my money back, Give me my money back..you bitch. I want my money back
(And don't forget to give me back my black T-Shirt)." So I guess the answer to my question is ... no.

3) What do people really think of me?
Taylor - Jack Johnson
"she just wanders around, unaffected by the winter winds, and she'll pretend that she's somewhere else, so far and clear, about two thousand miles from here.."

4) Do people secretly lust after me?
Cater 2 U - Destiny's Child
"Let me feed you, Let me run your bathwater, Whatever you desire, I'll squire..." Well, if that's any indication of what people want to do to me...Where do I sign?

5) How can I make myself happy?
Summertime - Ella Fitzgerald
"One of these mornings, You're going to rise up singing, Then you'll spread your wings, And you'll take to the sky..But till that morning, There's a'nothing can harm you, With daddy and mamma standing by.."

6) What should I do with my life?
Superunknown - Soundgarden
I think the song title speaks for itself.

7) What would be good advice for me?
Brown Eyed Girl - The Rolling Stones
"Laughing and a running hey, hey, Skipping and a jumping, In the misty morning fog with, Our hearts a thumpin' and you, My brown eyed girl,You my brown eyed girl."

8) What do i think my current theme song is?
Here Comes The Sun - The Beatles
"Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right..Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter..Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun, here comes the sun..and I say it's all right." This song brings tears to my eyes. I love it.

9) What does everyone think my current theme song is?
Smoke Two Joints - Sublime
"Errrrr....."

10) What song will play at my funeral?
Time Keeps on Slipping - Del The Funky Homosapien
"I remake my universe every time I use a verse, To fulfill my destiny, emcees rest in peace, Side barriers provide care within, From impurities every word sees your attention like third degree, I subjugate you other fake performers while the bass of your face."

11) What type of men do you like?
Le Ciel Dans Une Chambre - Carla Bruni
"Quand tu es près de moi, Cette chambre n'a plus de parois, Mais des arbres oui, des arbres infinis, Et quand tu es tellement près de moi.." The type that make walls disappear. :)

12) What's my day going to be like?
Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand
I guess the song could not be more specific. I'll be staring at my phone all day.

13) Why am I here?
Every Breath You Take - Police
"Every little thing she does is magic..Everything she do just turns me on"

14) What will people remember me for?
More Than A Woman - Angie Stone
"You're the blood in my veins, You're the air I breathe on a hot summer day, You're like a shirt with no sleeves, What makes me a man, any fool could see, Youhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif're more than a woman to me.." Yes. I'd like to be remembered as a tank top. :P

15) Are there people outside waiting to take me away?
Sexual Healing - Ben Harper
That's just creepy. Yes, take me away and heal my wounds with sex. NOW.

16) What will this year be about?
Crucify - Tori Amos
"Why do we crucify ourselves, Everyday I crucify myself, Nothing I do is good enough for you, Crucify myself, Everyday I crucify myself, And my heart is sick of being in chains..."

So there you go, some eerily accurate, some completely nonsensical. I tag Regina-George, Burger Queen, &

Crazy Dreams, Sleepless Nights.

2006-04-13T00:52:00.000-04:00

I've been sleeping rather fitfully these past few days, often waking up with a splitting headache. Of course the first thought as I stumble groggily towards the bathroom is "Oh my god, I have brain cancer. I'm going to die." Although perhaps now I think it's more to do with sleeping with wet hair under the fan going at no. 3. Someone once told me that's a really bad thing to do because it 'freezes' the muscles in your neck, promoting knots...etc. Yeah, probably.

Anyway, the fitful nights have something to do with my dreams as well. I've been having these crazy dreams very night, most of which emotionally correspond with my current emotional state: perpetual frustration.

Dream 1: I'm walking from room to room. Each room in completely white and linear. Furniture, sparse walls, spacious. For some reason the expanse of the room unsettles me and I start feeling claustraphobic. In my dream I start panicking and pinch my self to wake up so I can escape. I wake up, fall back to sleep, then have the same dream all over again. Which leads to me ask - Do I really wake up?

Dream 2: I receive a silver box in white wrapping. I open it, and inside is more wrapping and more boxes..I never get to the bottom of it before I wake up.

Dream 3: I'm not in this dream. I'm watching. One of my co-stars is in a training classroom for the gestapo. They're learning how to draw their own blood with a blood pressure gauge attached to their arm. On the table is The Homecoming manifesto. At the desk in front of him is a man that looks like Chin Peng. He is reading The Homecoming manifesto and comes across our names. They start debating if this is an encoded hit list. Pinteresque communist nazis. Hm.

Dream 4: I'm being taught how to sing comimc verse ditties by a singing portrait of Deborah Kerr. She punctuates each line with a soprano "yes!" or "NoooO!".I wake up humming these ditties, but forget them 15 minutes later.

Does anyone know a good shrink? *sigh*

Dum dum dum...

2006-03-23T23:11:00.000-05:00

So tonight is the opening of The Homecoming. I have to say that nervous excitement aside, there is some comfort knowing that it is the beginning of the end. Soon, the evenings will be mine again to dispose of time in any way I see fit. It has been an interesting experience, marked by constant thoughts of "JW, What the hell were you thinking?"...but all in all, it has been a fun one. Perhaps in my next life when I choose to act for the first time I will not audition for a Pinter. Will I consider auditioning for any other roles? Perhaps, but I think subconciously I will steer away from Ruth-esque characters, or any that is dicatated my feminine 'charm' - conscupiscent or otherwise. And while I'm at that, scripts containing themes of atavistic forces or domestic dysfunction can park themselves in the repressed memory zone. Hee hee.

Anyway, so many exciting things happening around the world and I have to be in Kuala Lumpur. If I had things my way, I would love to catch Cate Blanchett in Hedda Gabbler as....duh.., being staged at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. I'm so pleased she'll be returning to play Queen Elizabeth again in Golden Age - the (highly anticipated, mind you, by yours truly) sequel to Elizabeth. The movie will pick up 15 years after Elizabeth, introducing as well, Mary Queen of Scots. Wah! I'm excited.

There's also of course the Tate Modern triennial, so wonderfully panned by the Guardian, I mean, if The Guardian panned it, it must have been a real derision of taste, downright grotesque. Althought perhaps I think that sometimes it has all to do with how the show is curated. Modern art is all about conceptualisation and presentation anyway. The stuff that people from the arts arm of The Guardian lap up like its the last box of truffles at Cipriani.

Then, there's this at the Tate Britain:

OoooooOh. Yummy. I can't think of anything better than a cup of hot dark chocolate on at 4pm on a London winter afternoon, where it's already dark and your cheeks are damp and cold from the invisible drizzle, hopping on the Tate Boat as it chugs towards an afternoon in the company of gothic ghouls and sfumato damsels in distress. Sigh.

OSCARS! Woot.

2006-03-06T21:48:00.000-05:00

Okay, so my Oscar night fashion predictions were about half-right, but if the Fall '06 collections were anything to go by, they were going to be pretty unpredictable anyway. So, the turquoise Versace number did appear on Salma Hayek:

Of course, after I saw that I realised that THAT orange Hermès number was not going to make an appearance, but then Michelle Williams turns up in a yellow Vera Wang. I'll have to say it requires a certain amount of courage to wear derivatives of the colour red on a red carpet - it is virtually impossible to go unnoticed. But that's the whole point, isn't it?

I should have predicted Dior couture instead, although considering BOTH houses had a very strong Spring haute couture showing, it could have been anyone's race. Should have realised that after the Golden Globes fiasco, Reese Witherspoon would probably not wear Chanel for a while....

My second prediction that did happen - Marchesa DID make an appearance on Karolina Kurkova (who I mistakedly indentified as Heidi "you're either innggg, or you're ouwwwt" Klum) :

....but there was no Doo.Ri in sight. :(

Anyway, all in all. It was truly a night for the women. Michael Kors did not have a strong showing, (Jennifer Garner did look great.) but Donatella and Vera must be feeling pretty good about themselves now.

HELLO!!

2006-02-26T22:38:00.000-05:00

Since I'm really quite busy at the moment, and actually have something to write about in my blog...so I 'hupdate' lor...

Rehearsals have been going well. Le directeur has been putting us through some focus excercises, which has been a great help, considering everytime I remotely try to meditate I end up with a splitting headache. It's about a month to opening night, and I'm still quite nervous, it is nothing compared to prancing around stage as Hodel, crooning to a mop at 16. In some strange way or another, Ruth and I are turning out to be not that different. Therein lies the million dollar question - Is she becoming me or am I becoming her? Frankly, I'd rather not think about it, and just acknowlege that Ruth and I are 2 divorced personalities living in parallel universes. For continuous updates, please visit:

http://www.thehomecomingdiaries.blogspot.com

On another note, I'm pretty cheesed off at the post office and amazon.com. After paying for expedited shipping, I received the goods about 2 weeks late, and now it's sitting at the post office because it's apparently too big to deliver. All I can say is that when I turn up at the post office it'd better be the size of Ayer's bloody Rock. I've seen postmen deliver some pretty big things, so they'd better be telling the truth. It's 3 books! Anyway, it's almost oscar night. I am tempted to take a day off work in order to be able to watch the live broadcast on StarWorld - I think there will another 6 girls huddled around a TV set in Washington DC doing exactly the same thing....I miss that. :) I've never really thought much about the ceremony, but it's a good indication of what I should attempt to watch in the next 6 months, and of course, there's what people are wearing.....:) My predictions? I have a feeling that that turquoise flowy number from Versace's Fall '06 RTW might make an appearance or perhaps that orange grecian number from Hérmes Spring '06 RTW. Valentino and Chanel couture will be out in full force, as with every award show. Red-carpet surprises might include Doo.Ri Chung and Marchesa, and Michael Kors will have a stronger showing than before.

Anyway, now that I'm done talking through my arse. Have a great week!

Come and See....

2006-02-12T23:07:00.000-05:00

Have a Nice Day.

Once Upon A Time.

2006-01-04T22:47:00.000-05:00

I wish I could be someone's muse. A modern muse, that is, without the torrid love affair that usually accompanies classical muse-artist/e pairings. Why the sudden wishful musings? (Okay, the puns are going to stop here, I could go on forever.) Well, these days, the literary theme of the week seems to be muses - mostly women. This week specifically - Amanda Harlech, Edie Sedgewick and Janice Biala. Perks seem to include an endless primary source of swag bags, aesthetic immortality by way of canvases and prints, and of course litearary immortality by way of biographies, auto-or-not....Hm.. Where do I sign? I wouldn't even mind settling for 'museling'. Hey, a girl's got to start somewhere.

Those of you who have been feeling a little bored and are in the KL region, check out:

http://www.kakiseni.com/events/exhibitions/NzkxMA.html

If you're too lazy to access the URL.:

In Print: British Contemporary Art from the Paragon Press.
Venue: Balai Seni Lukis Negara (National Art Gallery)
Dates & Time: 22 Dec 2005 - 22 Feb 2006 / 10am - 6pm
Free Admission.

This exhibition includes works by Hirst, The Chapman Brothers and Anish Kapoor. Probably not comparable to their works in the Tate modern, Saatchi or White Cube, but I think it will be an interesting trip. It has been the catalyst of a very funny e-mail exchange, which I will share. After I sent an e-mail informing a friend of the exhibition with the assignment of

'In not more that 250 words - The Hay Wain is a better lunchbox print than Hirst's The Last Supper. Discuss.' To which I got:

The relentless nutritional pilification of modern society has led to a
corresponding post-Heideggerian dislocation in art. Hirst's Last Supper
(series) efectively decontextualises hermeneutic subideals from
quasiplatonic pure appearances (Erscheinung) and transmogrifies the
Da-sein of Foodness into functions of instrumental communicative action
(Foodishness) that prompt multilevel system-lifeworld challenges
(Foodlessnesses).
Constable's Hay Wain, on the other hand, is merely a
non-essential counteressence to the primordial essence of truth and is a
throwback to pre-post-Enlightenment rationality. It is, besides, mainly
a picture of some trees.

/ends (80 words)

After supressing guffaws from my cubicle, here's my submission.

D.Hirst : "Hey, nice lunchbox."
Constable: "Thanks. I like yours too…it's really cool. It looks like
my Xanax pill box."
D.Hirst : " How many milligrams are you on?"
Constable: " 5 mg..you?
D.Hirst : " 10mg. The doctor increased my dosage after mom got me these
lunchboxes…she tells me that cognitive dissonance is healthy.
Constable: " Huh. I chew my nails. A lot."
D.Hirst : " Hm. Wanna trade?
Constable: "What, lunchboxes?"
D.Hirst : "Yeah.."
Constable: "No way. Mom will kill me. It matches our tea towels."

/end (88 words)

I think things are looking up.

Au Revoir 2005. Bonjour 2006...

2006-01-03T01:31:00.000-05:00

Yes. I know "resolutions are counter productive...just do-it...bla bla bla..." never the less, it's nice to kick start the year of the dog with some goals, wants, needs and everything else that will inspire myself to work harder..

1) Have breakfast every morning.
2) Excercise more.
3) Travel more.
4) Watch more movies.
5) Read, paint and listen more/better.
6) Improve my French and Mandarin skills.
7) Find and read a Biala Biography.
8) Learn how to use my Nikon D-70.
9) Save Money.
10) Make Money.
11) Make Lusty Jewels a huge success.
12) Be more forgiving.
13) Apprentice with a taxidermist.
14) Renovate my apartment.
15) Find the perfect capri pant suit.
16) Spend more time with my family.
17) Keep my car clean.
18) Visit more art galleries & go to the Islamic Art Museum.

Out.

re-donk-culous

2005-10-27T05:05:00.000-04:00

The Turner Contemporary, to be built on the Kent coast in the town of Margate, is now estimated to cost £29.5 million.

....

1) Why would someone spend £29.5 million on a building that will look like this:

2) Why would someone house Turners with Tracey Emins in something that will look like this:

3) It looks like it belongs in Universal Studios as an imax appendage to the 'Jaws' ride.

Why would someone want to build a special building for Turners anyway? Okay, so The Fighting Temeraire was voted greatest painting in Britain, but if you ask me, it was all biasly steeped towards British nostalgia. So typical! I was stumping for Manet's Un Bar Aux Folies-Begère. Besides, when trawling the coast of Kent, which is boring enough as it is, why would we want to see MORE paintings of a british coastline, especially when excellent replicas can probably be found at the local mall.

Oh, yay.

2005-10-26T05:25:00.000-04:00

I just read about how thousands of tourists are still stranded in Cancun due to Hurricane Wilma, which also means that most STD infested college kids are now confined to one specific geographical location. Brilliant.

Ew.

2005-10-15T00:51:00.000-04:00

I had to delete the last song-lyric post because I think I threw up in my mouth a little when I saw it today, or as my younger, more tactless younger sister puts it " GAAGGG"...

Anyway, I sprained my ankle...I can't even remember the last time I sprained something. But for the last 2 days I've been hobbling around like a cripple. My ankle looks like the trunk of a baobab tree and it hurts a lot. The worst part is how it happened. I fell off my own set. My own set, which I should be able to navigate blindfolded with my feet tied together. Anyway, it was really my fault for forgetting the 'no-slipper' policy for everyone working onstage. So my slippers caused me some 'slipp-age' and I fell off a high step, and landed with a resounding *crack* in my left ankle.

In response to my hobbling around, I've have a chance to be the unwilling recipient of sympathy. Sympathy in general is grotesque curiousity in disguise.. . All they really want to know is how it happened...

"WAH! WHAT HAPPENNNN???"

"oh, I sprai-"

"HOW????"

I hate it because I hate revealing that my injury was the result of my stupidity, plus, what about more comforting words like "I hope it doesn't hurt too much.." or "At least now you can park in the handicap parking spot and get 50% discount off tickets..." Anyway, I've learnt my lesson and at least now I won't forget to change into shoes when I have to work onstage. Even the very next day, when I had to finish dressing the set :

Come one, come all...

2005-08-03T03:08:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday Pooty-Tang!!

Before I start :

ROMI AND JOO LEE DAN LAIN-LAIN - Pentas 1, KLPac. 18 - 28 August 2005. 8.30 PM.

COME AND BE ENTERTAINED. I've seen a couple of rehearsals - and it's funny. Pure comic laughter with no hidden agendas. It's everything a theatre snob will hate.

Char Siew Pau, our resident production designer has the luck of trekking to Putrajaya everytime we need visas for foreign artistes. After one such trip yesterday to the Foreign Ministry of Malaysia, he came back with a funny story - Do you notice that it's always the people who are at the bottom of the hierarchy with the biggest power trips? Such as the people working the MAS ticket counter at Heathrow Airport, JPJ policemen on their hondas...secretaries at the Foreign Ministry...

So, after asking for Mr. so-so, this particular secreatary began to scrutinise Char Siew Pau (who, mind you, is clad in a polo shirt) before exclaiming :

" You tahu ini pejabat kerajaan, tak boleh macam ini...siku, siku semua, tahu?"

(Manglish Translation)
"You know dis is government offees, cannot like dees..elbow elbow all, you know?"

(English Translation)
"You can't show your bare elbows at a Government Office"

My. God. I guess it gets even better if you're a woman...

"You tahu ini pejabat kerajaan, tak boleh macam ini ...jari, jari semua, tahu?"

I'm throwing a bring-your-own-burka party, WhOooOOOOooPPPpppp!!

Monday.

2005-07-25T02:19:00.000-04:00

I have found a new past time - browsing the auditions page on kakiseni.com. I tell you, it's a real hoot. I was already silently giggling at some of the posts and its unintentional allegories when I came across the golden ticket, I tell you:

band vocalist wanted
make sure u r sing in right key .better is lower than 25 years old .

can sing any style ( rock ,pop ,jazz or blues ), and better can sing chinese too.

we will perform in pub in soon .

and make sure u can come out when we r practice ,but will notice before jamming .

we are welcome all have passion's people

thank you . we waiting your good new's

posted by ah ***

well, at least he got 'band vocalist wanted' right. Give me a break, it's Monday. I can laugh at who and what I want to. Do you think I qualify as passion's people?

Do you really get unsmarter?

2005-07-22T23:35:00.000-04:00

The lack of activity on this website is due to fact that I've been buried tits deep in work. This entry is named as such because I feel my grasp of the English language and any semblence of witty conversation disguised as intelligence is waning, hence the use of words such as 'unsmart'.

I spend about 10 - 12 hours in the office a day, working simultaneously on 4 productions with one hand and filling in for the yet hired publicist with the other. After work, I get dinner (with 10-12 hour days, the prospect of slaving over a stove is not so appealing anymore. Yes. I see it as slaving.) then go home to the dog and Astro that does not work, because Andy Tan is not available to come and fix it yet. Andy Tan is the man that is supposed to fix my Astro receiver when it breaks down - his name is actually on the sticker on the machine.

I actually do enjoy my job, the one thing I hate about it is how little time it leaves me to do other stuff, most importantly, read. I have been reading 'Typhoid Mary' and all its 88 pages for almost 3 weeks now, while my new Haruki Murakami sits forlornly under 3mm worth of dust because I have not the time to read it, let alone clean it. I feel about as informed about the world as the woman in her trailer with Jerry Springer on repeat. Yesterday, it took me one minute before I could place Rosetti with his work.....I seriously need to start reading again.

The upside of everything is that my lack of time to do anything also spells the disability to spend my paycheck, and it's slowly accumulating in the bank. God knows I'll need it when work stress drives me to roam KLCC as the maniacal bourgeouis bag lady that lived in her Manolos.

Making it Fit Your Pocket

2005-06-22T05:57:00.000-04:00

We have a little 'bistro' at the workplace. Our little 'bistro' is actually a glorified canteen. I wouldn't mind this beestro so much if its prices were more reasonable. I mean, if you're paying RM8 for a nasi goreng, it had damn well be the best nasi goreng to grace the plates of this earth. But it's not.

This particular bistro makes a mean calamansi (lime and plum juice). It's blended, and has a real lime kick to its asam companion. Today however, I noticed that they dropped in the lime whole. Into the blender, skin and all. Which wouldn't be so bad, except for the fact that everything morning when I come into work there are lizard droppings on my desk. Which also means, that it is almost certain that there are lizard droppings in the fruit baskets too. Which also means that the possibility of a piece of lizard excrement stuck to the skin of the lime in the blender is also quite high....yummy.

There are many quirky people in the office that make working here a blast. As most of the people in this company fall within the age bracket of 20 - 35, we are all too lazy to communicate by mouth. Hence everyday I get e-mails such as:

" Is recce a REAL word?"

"I was walking in the foyer today, and I saw a male rat chasing a female rat...I just thought everyone should know..."

"you mean, the rats are procreating ah?" (different e-mail)

"yes. i think so." (different e-mail from different person)

"we should get pest control." (different e-mail from different person.)

I really don't have a problem getting to work early. :)

"

Aieee-poh

2005-06-10T23:41:00.000-04:00

I'm going back to Ipoh this weekend. My job is going okay, had my first very minor fuck up - but only because I was too efficient and everyone else hadn't caught up yet. Well, that's what I tell myself. I also think my mother is becoming extremely kooky. My phone ceonversion with her yesterday:

JW : Hi, mom
M: HI!!!! I"M MAKING DUMPLINGS FOR YOUUU!!
JW: That's nice...di-
M: I ONLY PUT LEAN MEAT IN IT AND LOTS OF NUTS, THE WAY YOU LIKE IT!!!!
JW: Cool...
M: OKAY!! BYEEE...*click*

Yeah. I miss my mummy.

Back in Malaysia.

2005-06-03T17:32:00.000-04:00

I know this post is long overdue, and it also signals a change in the content and purpose of les petits poissons rouges. The last few weeks have seen very tearful goodbyes to friends very dear to my heart. I have to day that the tears were due to the uncertainty of when I would see them again, and the certainty that their absence will be deeply felt. To the fabulous 7, I think of all of you everyday and I don't think I will ever stop missing you.

I have returned to Malaysia and uprooted myself from Ipoh to Kuala Lumpur to start my spanking new job as resident production designer. Leaving Ipoh for KL didn't really feel like a massive undertaking, because really, I left a long time ago. Things really aren't that different. The comfort of home is still a fair bit away, perhaps the only thing that is significantly difference is that I can drive home anytime I want. KL remains a city full of strangers. I draw comfort from the friends around me, but I'm still in the process of getting to know my colleagues, neighbours, the guards of my building...etc. I still struggle with accepting the fact that there will be no more 3 month long days of leisure for a long time to come.

There is a new addition to my life that has been a great source of joy and a lesson in patience. He lives on the balcony and answers only to food. The now 10 week old pup was inadvertedly christened 'Chip' and it has kind of stuck. Chippy is a jack russell, and lives up to the reputation of his breed a little too well.

I want a holiday.

I'm Gettin' A Graduatin'

2005-05-13T23:00:00.000-04:00

It's here....tomorrow is Ivy Day and, the day after, commencement. Everthing has gone by so quickly yet it feels like the only life I've known. Tomorrow we dress in virginal white and process with the alumni of Smith College, some of which from the class of 1925, wondering where we will be in 80 years. On Sunday I put on my cap and gown and permit the Commonwealth of the State of Massachusetts to declare me graduate. How did it all go by so quickly?

It's OVER

2005-05-09T00:26:00.000-04:00

I know this post is long overdue, but I have been busy parking my butt in front of the telly ever since finals ended on Friday. I would normally finish this post, but CSI is on. Booyah.

Typo

2005-05-03T19:19:00.000-04:00

Did anyone else notice that I called Edouard Manet Eduardo Manet? *ROTFL* Who else finds that hilarious? Okay, just me. Um, yeah. Peace.

Crunch Time

2005-05-01T17:22:00.000-04:00

So little time, so much to do. In the next 7 days, I have to:

- finish a 10 research page paper on Eduardo Manet's Un Bar aux Folies-Bergère.
- study and sit for Art History final, slide identification & 3 short essays
- study and sit for Clinical Child Psychology final, 5 short answers & 3 short essays.

So heads down, shut up and sit down. It's crunch time.

Bits

2005-04-27T17:31:00.000-04:00

Keeping a blog can be rather stressful, y'all. Especially when there's a certain someone that bugs you to update it all the time....(Yes, I'm watching you Georgia. That's right) But since the past few days have been full of little bits if news, I thought I'd give you one of those 'quickies'.

Botero, self-proclaimed 'painter of fat people' recently unveiled his new series of work in his studio - paintings of photographs from the Abu Gharib prison scandal. Yes, he painted the figures in his trademark 'fat' style and No, there're not for sale. I just assumed that those were the 2 questions people would ask first, because I did. Ha. I started surfing for images for these new series, but couldn't find any so far. I'm intrigued by his choice of subject matter, simply because Botero is not one to paint from photographs, but also because his past work have remained somewhat a-political. Just picturing the subject matter distorted into Botero's fat figures gives me goosebumps. Whenever I look at a Botero I'm always reminded of overindulgence anyway, I'm curious as to what reactions he will provoke.

On Monday I had a craving for Krispy Kreme doughnuts. If you have not tried a Krispy Kreme doughnut, you have not lived. KASS was selling boxes in the campus center, and of course, when I go up to buy some, they are sold out. Another addition to my beef with KASS. My craving was partially satisfied with a trip to Dunkin Donuts with Ayrab and Joysey for a Boston Kreme and a French Vanilla coolata. It still wasn't no Krispy Kreme, but it had to do.

This Saturday night plays host to the reception for 'Closing Time' - my senior show. Jujubee's friend found us a band to play live jazz, and we'll be making sushi. Sounds very chi-chi huh? Sushi, jazz and art. I'm just glad that the show is up and hopefully, I'll make some money. :)

Anyway, I'm feeling a little run down, and it's showing. Tomorrow will be my last day of classes in an institutionalized tertiery education setting for a while. Am I glad that it's over? Yes. Because everyday brings me closer to a new chapter of my life and the day I get to see *him* again. Am I glad that I'm leaving? No. Because I cannot imagine life without the friends I've made here. I will cry you a river, what can I say?

Passover Seder and Pinworms

2005-04-24T14:25:00.000-04:00

Last night saw the last of our gatherings at Jujubee's house for Seder, and probably the last time I will be belting out "Da-da-yenuuu" at the dinner table with my friends, considering the large Jewish community in Malaysia....As the days creep by the inevitability of graduation becomes more of a reality and I find myself choking up over the increasing list of 'last-of' events. Although there is always something humourous about the superflous shedding of tears, I have been feeling rather melancholic. A big part of it is the realization that the next chapter of my life will only be shared in spirit with my friends. Although I know that we will always remain part of each others lives, the thought of not being in their company saddens me very much. The hardest part is not leaving Smith, but leaving the wonderful assbags whose friendships mean the world to me.

I knew I would get all emotional in that post, so, moving on...........ingredients for a minor case of mass hysteria: Take one confirmed report of pinworm, add in a pinch of information that is is contagious and a dash of hyperbolic anecdotes, stir in an all women's college...TAA DA! So here's the rundown. There is a risk of getting pinworm in the dining halls. Apparently someone's got it and it's highly contagious..symptoms include the itching of the rectum after a 2-4 week incubation period. Pinworm is a parasitic worm that sits in your digestive track, and although the bulimics and anorexics are probably all flocking to the dining hall hoping that the pinworm diet is the way to go, the general consensus is no one wants freaking pinworm. I think what disgusts me most is that this confirms that AT LEAST ONE person does not wash their hands after a No. 1 or 2. Can I just say Ew? Clorox Wipes have never looked so sexy.

The Last Few Days

2005-04-20T21:10:00.000-04:00

My iMac is making little *wheezing* noises. I hope ET is okay. My life over the past few days have been pretty unremarkable, so let's blog about mediocrity. I don't even know if it's been mediocre...I'm thinking whether 'mediocrity at its best' is a contradiction. So the big highlight of my life is that I've finally finished my paintings. This semester bore witness to 6 new pieces of work. I should be jumping for joy, but to be honest, I remain rather ambivalent about them. Maybe if I get some big fat cheques for them I'd start feeling a little better.

Monday saw the annual pap smear - I really don't like talking during a pap smear. I know that doctors try to put you at ease, but my idea of a conversation or even mininal chit-chat is not peering over the knees of my legs, propped apart, with a speculum in my hee-hoo. My mother once told me that the most undignified position a woman will ever experience in her lifetime is during childbirth. Nature sure is a funny mother fucker. The most beautiful moment of your life and it has to be flat on your back with your legs spread wide open as strangers peer and probe. Nice.

Anyway, I've been feeling very cynical in the last few days. I think it's about time I took a little nap.

Currently listening to: Angelique Kidjo - Black Ivory Soul

L-O-V-E

2005-04-16T21:16:00.000-04:00

Today Ayrab's fiancé was in town...nothing warms my heart more than seeing two people so in love. I truly wish them a lifetime of happiness.

Currently listening to: No Doubt - Rock Steady.

Spanking New!

2005-04-16T16:04:00.000-04:00

I guess it's nice when you're feeling like pond scum that Lucien Freud unveils a new self-portrait. It almost makes me feel a little bit better when the grandson of Sigmund Freud, highest paid living artist (2004 earnings: $92 mil), luminary of 20th century portraiture and artistic brilliance on 2 legs reveals his new 'painting-within-a-painting' in the same week that I desperately needed something to cheer me up. I just wish I could be in London now to see it in the flesh...a reiteration that you can't always get what you want. Have you ever felt that HERE is the last place you ever want to be? Join the fucking club.

Currently listening to: The Mars Volta - De-loused in the Comatorium.
*Fucking brilliant.

Oh, Texas...

2005-04-14T08:19:00.000-04:00

I always learn something new when I watch telly. Last night on The Love Lounge, which is the Malaysian equivalent of Pillow Talk, except that it's a little more honest, all about sex without the annoying host..I forget her name..Bernie something. Anyway, FACT (from The Love Lounge) :

In Texas, if you're over 50 or if you only have one eye, you cannot go to jail for 'Peeping Tom' offences.

First of all - the very definition of 'peep' suggests one eye. I mean, when you're looking through a peep hole, they're not really big enough for both eyes now, are they? When someone 'peeps' it always suggests looking through a small opening as to offer discretion and secrecy. So, how does a one eye handicap protect a man from 'peeping tom' punishment. He still can SEE. What, just because he has one eye he gets only half the pleasure, so it doesn't really count? Oh, Texas.

As for men over 50, they are hardly in the frail threshold of senior citizens, maybe men over 90. At 51, I don't think senility has really manifested itself, plus all those psycological theories about the cyclical nature of psycology - your brain almost returns to its infant state as you progressively grow older - also doesn't really manifest itself till you're much older. If that was the norm, we'd all be taking care of our incontinent parents even before we graduate from college. ALL men who sexually harass women at ANY age should be held accountable. Start making exceptions and the next thing you know, well, one-testicaled men are getting off with rape. A little extreme I guess, but I've come to overestimate Texas. Oh, Texas.

Currently listening to: Smithereens - Note to Self. (Go Joysey)

I Will Not Spare Your Ears/Eyes...

2005-04-12T22:24:00.000-04:00

I thought I'd spare my friends the whining and bitching about how much work I have in the next few weeks, so I though I'd just hammer it all out on my keyboard to release some pent up frustrations. Who would have thought that the last semester ever of my undergraduate career would see me being such a grump about being a responsible student? I have a 2 research papers, 2 finals, 1 final paper and my senior show coming up in the next 3 weeks. Gah. I'm too old to be pulling late nights..my weary bones are tired.

On a brighter note - my senior show is hanging soon, so if any of you are in the Smith College vicinity it will be hanging in the Janotta Gallery in Hillyer Hall from the 24th - 30th of April, with its official 'opening' on the 30th of April. Drop by to mix, mingle with some sushi, jazz and art.

Currently listening to: De Cara a La Pared by Lhasa de Dela

Shit.

2005-04-12T03:11:00.000-04:00

3.10 a.m. Just got back. Extremely pissed off. Shower then bed. Does not bode well for my mood tomorrow.
Out

Be Bop

2005-04-11T20:51:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting in my studio, completely uninspired after 1 hour's worth of work and I can't get the sexy sounds of Charlie Parker out of my head. (p/s - I also can't seem to change the font on this computer..) So, grab a seat, put down your palette knife and let's talk jazz.

I'm not one who would call myself a jazz conoisseur - I don't always know when someone's playing a 'fat' solo or whether I'm clapping at the end of it because it was really good or because the one's that look like real 'jazz cats' are nodding and doing so. That being said, I would like to be someone who understands jazz - in its discipline and technicality. However, whenever I find ,myself saying (or thinking) that, I kick myself for being too much of a purist or a victim of instutionalized music.

Jazz - in its earliest days, had always struck me as music that was in itself free form - a brand of music that was hidden beneath the layers of pop culture, yet not completely separate from it. Jazz was played, sung and performed whenever the spirit moved you, and was not something that was measured in scales, sharps or flats. That type of free form jazz and its casual essence was epitomized when I saw Herbie Hancock play at the Berklee Performance Center in Boston 2 years ago. After waiting, for a while for him to come on..he finally sauntered on stage, sat himself down, looked right in front of him...then muttered "hm..I forgot my music", casually walked off stage, retreived his sheet music, sat down and played a wicked concert. It never really has to be perfect. The thing with Jazz is that it's culture, it's style, it's love, it's personality, it's spirit. It's not something that's learnt - it's felt.

Sin City

2005-04-09T01:47:00.000-04:00

Sorry..I couldn't think of a more creative title for this post. It's 1.47 am. So I watched it. Was it good? Yes. Before I go on to what I love about it, let's talk about what I didn't first.

I didn't like the screenplay. It read straight out of the comic, which is fine..when it's read, cheesy when it's said. I understand the creative dilemma of directors adapting a graphic novel. It is imperative that you preserve the visual aesthetics, in other words, the graphics, for it to be a successful adaptation. Otherwise, it would just be like the common movie adaptations of books. What makes a graphic novel so great is exactly what makes it what it is - art. But in translating from book to screen, my opinion is that the narrator in our head sounds very different when it travels to your mouth. This relationship between head-mouth-ears is exactly what I disliked about The Da Vinci Code. Sure it was an intersting read, but all I could think about was Dan Brown sitting in front of his computer, or typewriter, thinking : "movie rights, movie rights...ka-ching!" The entire book was written like a screenplay, not what I sign up for when I buy a novel. I demand intelligent prose that asks for some form of active relationship with the reader's imagination. If I wanted to be told a story, I'd rent a storyteller.

Anyway, back to the movie. So what caught my eye most, aside from the fact that it fed my love for the colour red - it all its saturated glory, was that the only other colours employed where the three primaries - red, blue and yellow....and green, and derivative of the primaries. I haven't really thought about its allusions, although the primaries, along with black and white make up the basic palette for all other colours. Black absorbs, White Reflects and mixed with the primaries - you get every single colour in the world. If you took all the colours in the world, stuck it in a blender, mixed it all up and strained it to get the barest basics, that's what you would get. Any ideas of what it means?

Ok. That was my spiel. I'm tired now. Goodnight.

Augh.

2005-04-08T20:18:00.000-04:00

My room is a mess and I need to clean it, but I'm too tired to clean it. My new motto is WWHHD...What Would Hanna Höch Do? Leave it, that's what. ha.

Lisa Gherardini gets a new home!

2005-04-07T00:12:00.000-04:00

The portrait of Lisa Gherardini, better known as The Mona Lisa, finally has a new home at the Salle des Etats in the Louvre. About fucking time!Like the crowds weren't bad enough before *shudder* The Da Vinci Code.

I met Mrs. Gherardini in person last year in Paris, and I wasn't disappointed. What I don't understand is how people can trek all the way to and through the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa only to exclaim "Wah! So small one, ar?" when they see it in person. It's so much easier getting to know a little bit about a painting before you appreciate it in person than battling the crowds in the Louvre on a nice spring day. What an injustice. Anyway, when I first saw the Mona Lisa, there so many Japanese tourists with their Nikons and 2000 watt flash clicking away that I swore her smile was turning into a grimace. After patiently waiting quite a while, I finally got to have a brief moment with her before I was jostled away by some loud Greeks and their Olympus' snapping away.

There are so many wonderful things about the Mona Lisa that if I went into detail I would be up for another 2 hours. But my advice to you is this : Look at this portrait with the patience of Mondrian, the eye of Cézanne and your own heart. You will be pleasantly surprised.

As to Ms. Gherardini - congratulations on your new home. Having your own wall was long overdue.

R.I.P

2005-04-06T23:49:00.000-04:00

Rest in peace, Saul Bellow. I will always remember the small absurdities in The Actual and Ravelstein, the only work of your illustrious many that I have read, and liked. It was through your books that I learnt about American geography and its cultural idiosyncrasies. I will remember your brilliance and dignity. I hope you and Hunter have a great life wherever you are.

Rest in peace, Prince Ranier of Monaco. Your grandson is hot.

On a lighter note, an appendage to 'Signage? White board-age..'
Written on my neighbour, Georgia's door:

Georgia,
I found the nipple u lost and turned it in to lost and found. If u need it, that's where it is.
(written in what is obviously Marlboro 100s handwriting)

(written reply)
Thanks! I've been looking for it. $500,000 reward.

I wonder what Scott, the guy that comes to empty our trash every morning thinks of us. I should ask him one day.

Of Red Paint and Penises..

2005-04-05T22:17:00.000-04:00

I never thought that as an art student I would be clocking 15 hour days...only investment bankers do that. Anyway, I thought I'd share a little dream I had that I think is related to the psycological effects of working with a large planes of Cadmium Red in my work.

I dreamt that I chopped my penis off. Well, sliced it in half to be exact. I went to hospital only to be informed that they would need the top half of my penis to re-attach it. So I sent my friends to look for it and they come back with the top half of my penis. After scrutinising it for 3 seconds, the nurse informs me that it's frostbitten and cannot be salvaged. I tell her that it's okay because I don't use it much, anyway. My only request was that she fix my now stump to resmble a penis a little more. I wake up staring at my crotch. Whew. No penis.

The boyfriend thinks that I am suffering from penis envy. I think it's the bright red paint that has been staring at me from my canvases. Sigmund Freud, go nuts. I now want to do some kind of psychological study on colour and how it affects our subconcious. Volunteers welcome, penis or no penis.

Bah Humbug

2005-04-05T01:39:00.000-04:00

It's 1.39 a.m. I just walked home past the pond and saw a monster. I'm covered in paint. I have to wake up at 7.00 a.m. Make up your own story. Goodnight.

Sunday Night = Grey's Anatomy and Wonder Showzen..

2005-04-04T19:29:00.000-04:00

After a 12 hour Sunday work day, I was more than happy to curl up in bed with the Sunday night staple of Grey's Anatomy and a newly discovered addiction to Wonder Showzen on MTV2. And, as of yesterday, Christina (played by the lovely newly famous, and hence divorced, Sandra Oh) of Grey's Anatomy joins Charlotte York of Sex and The City as an on-screen Smith alum. So I guess the next time my parent's friends give me a blank look because Smith is such an alien word within their vocabulary of Harvard and MIT, I can quip "Well, Charlotte and Christina went to Smith.."

The context of how it unfolds on screen:

Season 1: Sex and The City.
Carrie, Miranda and Samantha are discussing anal sex in the back of the cab as Charlotte blushes and exclaims:
" I don't know these things..I went to Smith!"

Season 1: Grey's Anatomy
Christina, a surgical intern is stuck with ward duty. She exclaims:
"I have a BA from Smith, an MD from Stanford, and I'm stuck shuffling papers."

Wonder Showzen, a wonderfully inappropriate kid show for adults was hilariously entertaining. Among the highlights , a cartoon super-hero team called finger four that use their index fingers as a secret weapon to self-induce vomitting so they can morph into beautiful, svelte women that can get anything they want. Merchandise includes : a toy finger and a baby bulimia doll. Precious. Toy finger : $20 dollars. Baby bulimia doll : $50 dollars. A politically inappropriate cartoon parody of society: Priceless.

Get Your .... Off My ......

2005-04-02T00:37:00.000-05:00

HANDS/FRIEND. Gardiner house party night and a near altercation with a big black man. I don't care if you're 10 times my size, but if you disrecpect my friends, I will be all up in your face. When a girl says she's not interested, it means you let go of her wrist and take your boner somewhere else. If you refuse, then I am going to push you. Tough.

I have stopped mourning the death of chilvary, I now mourn the death of common decency. It's about time boys started using their head - the OTHER head, the one with a neck, not shaft, attached to it.

Currently listening to: Mudvayne - L.D. 50

Happy Punk'd Day

2005-04-01T16:55:00.000-05:00

Happy April Fools - have you punk'd today?

Now that I'm 23, fooling people on April Fools day have become increasingly more difficult. Considering that most of my friends subscribe to the generation of the twenty-somethings, everyone's too street smart to be fooled. Anyway, in celebration of Jujubee's completion of her Government honours thesis, herself, Joysey, Ayrab, Marlboro 100 and I went for brunch and mimosas (I had orange juice..) at Sylvesters. Brunch consisted of the Sylvester's Special ( eggs, toast, home fries and bacon), the usual brief round of 80s trivial pursuit, tit-bits of conversation that ranged from sex to P. Diddy's White Party in the Hamptons....not quite a range, but close enough, and Harvard president's rhetorical boo-boo.

I have to say that I will miss my friends come graduation. I will miss their company, wit and intelligence. But I think most of all, I will miss their unabashed grotesque sense of humour. Tonight we are having a house party to the theme of Gardiner Does Dallas......................I promise I will resist rolling my eyes at the truckloads of Debbies and enjoy my champagne with my non-Debbie friends. In tune to Jujubee's thesis, we're having a Yay I Don't Have Aids party. Peace out.

Currently listening to: Jimi Hendrix - Jimi Blues

The Naming of the Shrew(s)

2005-04-01T16:50:00.000-05:00

On this first day in the forth month of two thousand and five, I dub thee, Spicy Toad -Jujubee and thee, Mayushi - Ayrab. Dismissed.

Currently listening to: Jimi Hendrix - Jimi Blues

Generation X and Anything that Falls between the Cracks..

2005-03-30T18:20:00.000-05:00

So I keep getting these e-mails on articles about how the past 50 years have been the pinnicle of invention and innovation, thanks to the kids of the 60s, 70s and 80s. Apparently we deal with failure better and are more resilient to change because we grew up without the technology to make things easier. And how do we contribute to this precious society? We invent technology that breeds social anxiety, self-ostracization and plain laziness. Yay for us, the ones who made it on our own - to the future: here's some technology to mess you up so you will not have to play with sticks and stones.

Honestly, we really do not have much to be proud of. The commodified world of technology parallels the Keynesian model of economics. If there wasn't a demand for technology that feeds instant gratification, there wouldn't be the unending race of doing it faster, smaller and better. So before we sit down and pat ourselves on the back for being the original space cowboy, my generation, at least should think about how many of us really played with sticks and stones (masak-masak does not count) and how many of us played with pac-man and donkey kong. We are not the generation that made it without technology - we are the generation that started it all.We were the generation whose impatience demanded instant results at the push of a button.

I am not a technophobe, but I am slightly homeostatic when it comes to superfluous technology. I don't think every kid needs a Playstation (Hell, I got mine when I was 21!), let alone a personal portable one. The irony of a kid in a playground tap-tapping away on his P2P is one we can do without. Forget plug and play, my kids will be the ones running on the beach butt ass naked knowing they can because they are kids.

Currently listening to: I AM - L'Ecole du Micro D'argent

Hah.

2005-03-29T21:12:00.000-05:00

To those of you who used to disagree with me incessantly on the irrelevance of some of Damien Hirst's work. Can I gloat now? Straight from the horse's mouth. Back, back to the catacombs of conceptual art, I say!

Currently listening to: Miles Davis - The Complete Birth of Cool

A New Meaning to Sacrificing for Your Art.

2005-03-28T15:09:00.000-05:00

Okay. So there were once these group of people, right, that lived in Italy in 1909. They decide to hell with the bourgeoisie, let's turn our little poetic movement into a revolution. So they write 'Le Figaro', (nothing to do with Mozart's Marriage of Figaro...) THIS manifesto called for the violent overthrow of bourgeois culture, championed for revolutionary change through the adulation of the machine and called for the annihilation of conventional culture. To say they were true anarchists would be an understatement. Now, this group had a name . And within the art and architectural world they were known as the Italian Futurists. If you've seen a work by an Italian futurist, boy, would you know it. They worshipped energy, vitality, modernity and dynamism - forces, they believed, that were propelling them into the future. And they encapsulated it in their art. This, in my opinion was the birth of cartoons - and the movement lines so essential when illustrating the coming, the going, the bouncing, the shaking.....etc. you get my point. I'm sure Marinetti is turning in his grave as I compare his life's work to cartoons, but I honestly believe that without the Italian Futurists fervour to illustrate movement, we would have probably have cartoons in a very different format. Essentially what changes each frame of the storyboard is movement. If the futurists didn't do what they did, wouldn't there be a tiny possibility that storyboarding and cartoons would just be a series of tableaux? *snore*

Anyway, the futurists, so excited about World War 1, joined the Italian bicycle brigade, and rode out to war, high on their love of machinery that would win the war ---- and blew themselves to bits. Now, if only they had BMXs......

Currently listening to : The Mars Volta - De-Loused in the Comatorium.

Bliss..

2005-03-27T12:59:00.000-05:00

Clearing the backlog - So, rewind to Thursday night. It's the night of the opening of my Seminar show, and also a day that was filled with good, solid music. Can I just say that the importance of good music in your life is definitely underrated, especially the old classics that were so often inundated with the foresight of what we are today. I mean Janis Joplin was asking Lord to buy her a Mercedes Benz 40 years before Mormons and Jews were hawking DVDs on the Life of Christ and the Holy Oil of Israel, (respectively, of course) on MTV. Essentially Ms. Joplin's aesthetic allusion to the relationship between religon and commodity preceded the abuse of mass media as ways to commodify religon. I am a harsh critic, simply because I feel that slotting an ad on how Jesus can save all your problems along with ads plying comsumers to spend, spend, spend on things that will make your life *so* much better, is extremely problematic. Spirituality does not come in a bottle or a DVD, and watching it suggested on TV makes me ashamed to be part of this generation of degenerate spirituality and instant gratification.

Anyway, coming back on track. I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed the blue grass band playing at the opening, and it reiterated how much I love the sound of a double bass. The night took a turn for the even better when Pooty-Tang informed me that she was taking to me to see (for my birthday) Orchestra Baobab! I was introduced to Orchestra Baobab about 2 years ago and had been a fan since. To watch them live was great, plus the Noho hippies were out in full free-loving force, which made for excellent people watching. :) I retired for the day excited that THE James Brown is performing at the Calvin on May 9th and I'll be damned before I miss a performance by the godfather of soul before he croaks. After singing 'Sex machine' all the way home, I just had to sit down and buy some of my favourite Janis and Wild Cherry songs on iTunes. At least I didn't have to worry about waking up in the morning with some insipid pop song stuck in my head.

Currently listening to : Leftfield - Rhythm and Stealth

And On The 4th Day, God created..

2005-03-24T08:35:00.000-05:00

...more frickin' snow. For all you friends of the environment non-believers : When the weather goes from 50 degree sunshine to a full-fledged blizzard in less than 12 hours - you know that there's a screw loose in the environment. What are you going to do about it before greenhouse gases choke you in your sleep, rendering you a slow and painful death as you gasp for fresh air, after your sores from acid rain have festered and left you permanently disfigured. What will you do then? Tch.

Yes.

2005-03-23T16:14:00.000-05:00

I just thought that I should ask: Who else is excited about Sin City? The trailer looks great, so does Clive Owen....my favourite part is when they go..

*OpensatatheatreseverywhereonApril1stthisfilmisnotyetrated*

..I love TV trailers. They couldn't speak any faster.

Also, I've decided that everyone must see :

Napolean Dynamite - because how often, really, do we celebrate mediocrity? Well I say, it's about dang-ed time.

Did I Ever Tell You About...

2005-03-23T15:21:00.000-05:00

how a New York State Policeman threatened to throw me in jail for 30 days?

Scene: It is 11.30 in the morning on South Interstate-87 when Pooty-Tang, Spicy-Toad and Weifer Reefer drive into a routine border patrol road block. Pooty-Tang is driving, Spicy Toad is in the front passenger seat and Weifer Reefer is in the backseat with the rest of the bags.

Machismo Cop (MC) : Hi ma'am (!) Where are you coming from?
Pooty-Tang (PT) : Lake Placid
MC : Where are you from?
PT : Massachussetts
(Scratches his chin, trying to figure out in both his tiny heads how someone from Massachusetts can be yellow...)
MC : Where were you born?
PT : China
(MC looks at Spicy Toad)
Spicy Toad : Massachusetts
(MC looks at Weifer Reefer in the back seat)
Weifer Reefer : Malaysia.
(MC is still trying to use both his heads with even more puzzled look on his face)
WR : Oh, I'm an international student.
MC : I see, can you roll down your window ma'am
(MC makes his way to the left back seat window)
MC : Can I see your documentation ma'am
WR : I don't have my documentation on me, we came from Massachusetts to New York. I have my student ID....
MC : Well ma'am, you're supposed to have your documentation on with you at ALL times..
WR : I was only told I needed it to enter and leave the U.S. so I don't carry it with me for domestic travel because I don't want to lose it..
MC : Well if I were to enforce the law, it would be $100 fine and 30 days in jail..
WR : for not having my documentation on me?
MC : Yes ma'am..(puts both hands on belt, like they do on COPS)
WR : (realizing at that moment that there's something in the car that shouldn't be there) Ok, I'm really sorry, I'll carry it from now on..really, I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't know, I wasn't told. *Please god please don't search the car*
MC : Alright ma'am...carry on. Don't do it again.
WR : Thank you, officer. *PHEW*
zooooooooooooom...and we drive off.

Anyway, the morals of the story are:
1) Most cops are pricks with even smaller pricks and a bad case of Napolean complex, especially those stuck with the less exciting tasks of border patrol
2) Next time, just say you were born in New Yawk City.
3) Carry your I-20 and passport with you at all times, even though there is no mention of it on the document itself. Assholes.
4) Don't carry dubious *stuff* with you when you're going interstate. I should have learned from watching COPS religiously. Oops
5) Brunettes may have more fun, but Blondes gat away with everything.

Up, up and away

2005-03-22T08:22:00.000-05:00

So Spring Break is officially over and I'm back to what will be the last 6 weeks of my college career...ever. At the beginning of the sprint to the end I am filled with an impatient melancholy that has been so pervasive in my college career. The bottom line is this - I haven't stopped studying since I was 3, when my mummy left me, kicking and screaming, on Ms. Liew's kindergarten steps. Since then I have gone from my ABCs to Plato's theories on art and, (channeling Michael Kors), frankly, I'm underwhelmed, overworked and exhausted. College has been a fun challenge, and I leave with a fitting paper trail of accolades that I'm sure will have no further purpose beyond the resumes. 6 weeks to the end I find myself perhaps a little bit smarter, no less worldly and armed with enough tit bits of nutty information to be a somewhat engaging conversationist. I sold my first painting yesterday and bought myself my first vintage Ramones t-shirt. Both of which I was equally excited about. I remain a devout realist tinted with a slight hint of romanticism (and a big fan of the -isms), a bigger fan of the arts and in love with a man who complements my eccentricities with that of his own. I don't have, from my 4 years of institutionalised tertiery education, all the knowledge I need for the years to come, but I do have friends I can whine to when I fall short.

In six days I will be 23, and my life is a transit lounge. 6 weeks to the end my flight has arrived at one gate and I'm waiting to get on the next flight out.

Signage? White board-age.

2005-03-09T23:53:00.000-05:00

I should really be in bed - but I thought I'd post a list of message's on people's white boards on the floor I live on...

"Out. Studying Russian"

"Medusa's bum is smelly. It smells like catfish"

"Horse on a farm"

" Are you playing scrabble?" (written reply) "no I think monopoly"

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

"You are heinous"

I live in a nut house and I love it.

cough cough hic

2005-03-09T14:46:00.000-05:00

Aaah..I'm as sick as a dog. Woke up this morning and big bird was nesting in my throat...just got back from my Psych and Tap mid-terms - climbing into bed now to rest my weary bones. Damn you, Georgia and Pooty-Tang, damn you and your nasty ass germs.

It's Not That...

2005-03-08T20:26:00.000-05:00

....i hate Andy Warhol - I just dislike how people ooh and aah over him. Call me traditional, but I like to think that art commerce should function as an elitist system to weed out the bad and worship the good, and Warhol sleeps his way to the top. The basis of my distaste for the works of Warhol (..and not the man) stems in the fact that his supposedly revolutionary mass-production of images of the ready-made and found objects was an idea already conceived and excuted, a lot more brilliantly, might I say, by Duchamps in the early 20th century. Duchamps was the maverick of the ready-made, hey wouldn't you choose a urinal over a Campbell soup can?

Perhaps the problem is I'm still naïvely waiting and hoping for the new wave of the avant-garde. If Henri St-Simon could see what we deem "avant-garde" these days, he would probably rise from his grave, smear human waste on a canvas and declare "Voila! Zees ees contrroversiale and unexceptabale, zerefore eet ess avant-garde.." Upon which someone can inform him that it's already been done. So,the million dollar question..,is concept art edging out the visual arts when it comes to orginality? Looking at the history of visual arts, it becomes more apparent that the nature of the evolution of art is one that is primarily innovative and secondarily (is that a word?) inventive. Robert Rosenblum's latest findings suggest that even Picasso resurrected the old masters of portraiture. I mean, if Pablo was doing it, and a slew of mistresses, 100 years ago, what about us mortals? :P

The only thing I can say is (after all that spiel), it really is unimportant. Who cares about who did it first, second or last - art is a medium of provocation and as long as it still keeps us on our toes, I'm happy.

* This blog was inspired by a dear friend, Mr. Gwailo - who constantly threatens to gift me a Warhol coffee table book so big that I can never hide it. He also likes to drink good coffee and make good music.

It just doesn't end...

2005-03-08T19:38:00.000-05:00

Gaia hates me....I step out of the studio and there's a blizzard with about 4 inches of snow and no plough in sight. I hate to whine BUT my feet are saturated, I can't feel my cheeks and I look like the abominable fucking snowman. If I empty my pockets and pleats..I'd probably have enough snow to build an abominable snowman in my room. I've decided I prefer the unbearable heat of home, because the air-con remedy is so simple. With the cold, there's no getting any warmer once it chills you to the bone. I really hope it stops snowing - Pooty-Tang, Medusa, Joysey, Spicy Toad, Marlboro 100 and myself are heading north to Lake Placid for Spring Break. Let us pray for clear skies....ohmmm

Staying true to the toe-fuu..

2005-03-08T00:28:00.000-05:00

Okay, so i have succumbed to peer pressure. Everyone meet shubunkins. Stay tuned for anecdotes on life in my fishbowl. Ciao.