Unbalanced Vision

Though I enjoy towning up and down London by foot, having additional two wheels is fun, fast, and you can see a lot more when cycling through the streets. If you steal my second-hand bike, I wish you a long and miserable life. If you knock me over, I shall be extremely angry. If you tell me to look out and change gears, I will be grateful.

Before I could only muse over this bloke's banal jokes and him not paying attention to this lady's voice-overs through the Windows Media Player on-line radio. Now that HY has downloaded Real1 Player, invisible third party discourse has once again take place in my room. Easy to imagine, nowadays you can literally not step outside your den and still become a remarkably worldy-wise man by listening to BBC radio's various talk shows catered to your needs. So tonight I clicked on my newest delight and the key phrase "sexed-up" kept on repeating in a loop... (*smile* commentary by UCL English tutor) In short, BBC correspondent AG accused Downing Street AC of "sexing up" a dossier on Iraq's banned weapons; whilst furious AC responded that it was a violation of government integrity, BBC's big hot shots backed their staff saying "the source was credible". Whether using "sexed-up" or Iraq terrorism was a bigger issue, though both reports have been equally covered (a concerned mum switched off the radio because she thought the phrase would ruin her baby's ears), it seems that despite how liberal we claim to be, society's language of sexual reference is forever at stake. Always with a farrago of anxiety and excitement, for instance the sexuality of Reading bishop and notably that he and his partner is celibate has to be mentioned. At this time of the day I'm void of all deep thought and can only come up with silly sentences: Have the SARS reports been sexed-up? Or, Have the SARS reports been climaxed? Have the SARS reports reached an orgasm? Try this, Have the SARS reports come to an orgy? The conclusion it appeared was to make the ignorant public alert, but not alarmed with whatever issue. However, please please mind your language.

If Steve Jobs is modern day serpent, tempting Adams and Eves with the juiciest apple already taken with a bite, HY is his devilish follower. In this Pandora's box you shall find:
1) The magic phrase, "kick-ass", a new replacement for "lust object".
2) Claps, woos and ahs made by the hellish gang.
3) Adorable crew cut guy Jonathan Ives plus beardless Al Gore.
4) Weapons that make you think you can rule the world.
Sit back and enjoy.

There are plans afoot that maternal parental unit is visiting in two weeks time, woo hoo! Hope she will function as private chef, presenting nutritious MSG-free dishes, plus provide updates of gossips and true stories. (Also expecting some wry comments on her part) When left to her own devices, she could indulge herself in the imperial capital's various museums, bookshops, theatrical events and greeny parks; dodgy King's Cross area, however, is not allowed. May I trouble maternal parental unit to bring some stuff from Formosa island, as follows:
1) My gray Benetton bed spreads and pillow case, plus pillow.
2) My Adidas black shorts and Nike black and red stripe top.
3) Two short sleeves 襯衫.
4) 家裡現有的盤子兩個。
5) The blue hard back Norton Anthology of Literature (includes Homer and the Epic of Gilgamesh) right below the lowest shelf in the picture.

Note: If it's too much trouble, don't bother.

While typing away this moment, self thought of once the family was in a picture framing store. Parents were chatting with shop owner, when he purposedly indicated the fact that he had done some brush paintings. Then as if it was more than natural, he proudly presented some pooh-coloured oil paintings on the wall. Without a word mom gave away the funniest polite but disgusted look, something like, "Holy moly, this looks like s**t", and I understood it outright. Simple as the incident was, it added itself to the list of funny things I'll always remember. We shall have fun.

Calvin and Hobbes are having some serious cute dialogue these past three days:
Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Arthur gave me some Japanese sprinkles to add to my bowl of rice and now American long grain rice tastes much much better. Also little chef V adviced me to add a bit of orange juice and white wine when baking chicken--dish turned out to be juicy and of course scrummy. Adventurous inventions on cooking may not always pan out well, better to play it safe.

Thought police Orwell surely has to say something about everything; he is entitled to though, since it's the 100th anniversary of his birth. Yesterday read something about his ideas on bad English writing--big words that convey no substantial meaning, today he made rules on making a better cup of tea. Apparently he does not approve of the soothing and calming effect achieved by our Chinese tea, and that our tea art has hundreds of years of philosophy 茶道 and strict rubric. Fair enough. Nor do I recommend reading his depressing dirt-poor novel Down and Out in Paris and London while sipping tea--it's not my cup of tea.

Spent this morning reading on Locke's language theory and travel literature--about how he uses metaphors of travel and discovery to describe the mind in motion, and that many thinkers were "extending their Enquiries beyond their Capacities, and letting their Thoughts wander into those depths, where they can find no sure footing". Hum, am too lazy to let loose "Thoughts into the vast Ocean of Being". Anyways, while I was sort of contemplating on Locke's ideas on my way out of the library, to my surprise, at the library entrance the marble sculpture of Locke greeted me with a bunch of Valentine balloons. Awww~~~ Too funny.

Look at this:

Damien Hirst 1991

And read this: Naked Man Scares Shark to Death
by way of lokman

So is the shark really the dominant one in its natural habitat, or that it isn't into ugly naked men?

Cousin Mike has way too much cash on his hands and wants to buy yet another Bimmer--the BMW M3. I think red is always a nice colour but he has preference for platinum. So I saw on this automobile Web site days ago using the phrase "chick magnet", and something's wrong here: 1) That car is honestly not a magnet, "chick repeller" is more accurate. 2) Chicks don't dig guys who drive nice cars, chicks like driving their own nice cars.

Londoners whipped themselves up into a broomstick frenzy as 5th HP flew all over the air on the summer solstice--the longest day of the year. 'Tis all very magical; if our ancestors treated church visits or scaffold deaths as important public events, purchasing the latest Harry Potty at the struck of midnight seemed to be the modern ritual, the Bible that everyone had to carry in order to speak the same cultural dialect. Yesterday already saw two carry the 1.3 kg on the tube, another one excitingly turned the first few pages in the park. How about gadget whiz HY? Was wondering if he might buy it from Tesco or download the text on his nifty Palm? An exclamation mark at the end of a sentence this morning, telling me he got HP off the Internet. That naughty Puck might have sighed, "Lord, what fools these mortals be?" is pretty understandable. Maybe a link to my dissertation: How interesting it is that 'enchantment' and 'reading that inspires imagination' plays such a favourable role in our daily hard-headed lives--with a little playfulness, reality isn't too bad after all?

Cannot help to add a dose of sarcasm...

Said "morning" to the cleaning lady and she returned with a curt smile. She doesn't allow anyone in the kitchen, so I'll just entertain you with my favourite daily Calvin and Hobbes for the time being:

Oooh~~ If only that was my summer.

And being a citizen of the blogville for almost half a year, suppose for the first time I shall participate in the famous Friday Five:
1. Is your hair naturally curly, wavy, or straight? Long or short?
Straight, slightly over shoulder length.
2. How has your hair changed over your lifetime?
Almost none. Only once when I had a perm and looked like one of those Cabbage Patch Kid dolls.
3. How do your normally wear your hair?
Tied up in the back.
4. If you could change your hair this minute, what would it look like?
No intention of making any changes.
5. Ever had a hair disaster? What happened?
Yes. The hairdresser went a little bit too far making me look like a boy.

Suffice to say this is the age of biopics and memoirs. With a subdued black and white book cover, former first lady is ready to tell part of her tale, whatever the reasons are for an upcoming election or her own career prospects. In the summer of 1998, I was in a living room in Norwich watching Clinton admit to his shenanigans on TV. If Clinton must apologise, it's certainly not Hillary's duty to devote pages on her husband's affair--"But why should Hillary Clinton be obliged to tell us all the secrets of her marriage and private life?"--after all these years, it might not be her main concern, but rather her future role and hopes in American politics. In my opinion, this secretive scorpion lady wants to keep some thoughts to herself or that she is too proud and cannot waste time dealing with cheap shag.

Am making new friends and being nice to other kids in the flat. Arthur is an architect major from Taiwan. It was such a concidence that I actually spent my Chinese New Year's Eve at this very flat when Litz invited me over for hot pot dinner with her architect friends, that's how I got to know Arthur. He strikes me as one of those clean and tidy guys, the housewife type who when everyone is already enjoying their meals and he alone makes sure every pot and pan is washed. Glad to know a friend is living here as well. The Brazilian lady as I mentioned earlier is not too bad after all. Talk to her about "The Girl of Ipanema" and she will belt out the tune. Guess cooking and dining is her thing--eating ice cream out of a wine glass, bringing her blender over to England, spending time making fancy desserts, eating with great panache--like holding a little ceremony. If that's the case then I wouldn't mind too much about her taking up THREE cupboards. Then there're guys from China and Japan who are both affable sort of characters. Lastly, a practically invisible pale Korean girl who I've only met once. Bunch of oriental faces results in a funky smell kitchen. Last night when midnight rolled around, I vaguely can sense this greasy oriental kitchen smell seeping into my room, urgh! Shall play loud music in retaliation.

Yesterday HY helped me install a Web site user indicator on my blog and this is making me quite excited! Big brother is watching you. So far for today I got 5 users on-line as the highest record, yet I do not know who these people are. My Nedstat Basic does not seem to work properly. Though real life stalkers are scary, but on-line stalkers are much appreciated. Keep reading and maybe we can get up to 10.

Robert Appelbaum wrote an interesting essay in Early Modern Literary Studies on "Anti-geography": "... anti-geographical fantasy has become a vehicle of self-conscious intellectual play, where one cannot only exercise the imagination but also ruminate on the values of European culture. ... anti-geographical fantasy becomes a critical tool for reflecting on one's own condition and exploring or indeed inventing new sets of values and conditions--beyond onself". In other words, besides inventing geographical faraway lands our capacity of imagination stretches out to build up a new system of living. Being a curious toddler that I am by inspecting blatant aspects of the world, here are some of the questions that sprung out of my mind--
1) Are fantasies a tool for reflecting on one's own condition, or rather reflecting on the need for fantasies in early modern society in the first place? Can merely playful and comic fantasies be taken as a basis for accurate reflection?
2) How far can one (by that I mean someone who has never left his/her birthplace) go to reach beyond?
3) Why do people want/need to create new values?

Went grocery shopping at the nearby open market this morning; took me approximately 15 minutes to walk there from dorm. Open markets are indeed the paragon of advanced human society in which people interact with one another sharing a collective mentality that basically everyone needs to engage in trade--to buy, to sell and to con. How many times have I tumbled down in the world of commerce? Honestly, not much I'd say. When there's the opportunity I bargain, but I rarely insist. Most often I just can't be bothered to waste time on coins--but that's not the golden rule according to a successful businessperson's handbook--sometimes you've got to be calculating. HY, on the contrary, once troubled himself to e-mail a company which had conned his one pound. I remembered during the lovely undergrad years when in charge of organising two department drama events, and because with ruptured ambitions on one hand, and too little cash on the other, we begged for sponsorship like fury. Trust me, if you cannot tolerate cheap quality posters, you can ask for a lot. Anyways, speaking about this new neighbourhood market of mine, there's this slightly chubby vendor who sells cheap and nice veggies, plus a dainty cheese stall just a few steps away. Moi shall pay visit to them quite often.

Yo, Dad, Happy Birthday! This lad of the baby boomer generation has not yet hit his middle-aged crisis, or will he ever? In truth, he just thinks life is too short to moan about boredom because there's always so much to do--reading, writing, wine-drinking, dining with best mates (bunch of 50 something academics gather together to bash the government and share latest off-colour jokes), watching movies, traveling (most of the time it's armchair travel), hiking (basically a time for him to show-off his cool hiking gear), swimming, shopping and thinking, etc. Though not leaving out what he scaringly does best--organising and making everything spotless. After years of hosting all-night parties and putting everything back to its right place before Dad comes home, A-li and I should know better that even one iota of evidence--a different smell of the living room--can make him suspicious. In public, he is one man who knows when to say the right things at the right time--a talent which I think not many own. Dad is a man of few words but when in the right mood, he's a natural funny person at the dinner table. His best trick is to make a vapid conversation come to an end simply be smiling at the dull babbler. Personally, self's most memorable moments shared with Dad is in the living room: 1) Telling a worried daughter that the more you read, the more you know, hence the less you are afraid. (In fact he brings home weekly free tabloid magazines from bookstores to satisfy our minds) 2) Study literature and go for PhD. Postgraduate studies is all about building up the thought not about learning the skills. (Neglecting the fact that it will be a major financial and career disaster) Guess the idea is still cool, though. With his influence of disliking girly girls, Dad has raised up a daughter who seldom if ever has the illusion that she is mentally/physically strong and can do anything, ha!

Helena


Which woman of Shakespeare are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Helena:
"Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind".
A Midsummer Night's Dream 1.1

Darn... Am diagnosed as Helena the pathetic male chaser, the unrequited lover--self is no firm believer of unconditional love. To mom and dad: Love you folks, but if you are wicked human beings I shall forget about your existence; expect you to disown me if I happen to do the same. (though some charity money will be appreciated) To brother A-li: Love you, too, but expect red envelopes every Chinese New Year to show gratitude to your endearing sister. To future husband: Will love you wholeheartedly unless you love me back. To future kids: Will love you as well unless you hold the other end of the bargain, which means endless supply of money to keep me entertained, otherwise shall kick you out of the house. Anyways, back to the original topic, of all the Shakespearean female characters, I would love to be Lady Macbeth as she is insanely cool, calm and power-driven.

"I had three chairs in my house; one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society."
Henry Thoreau

I have three chairs in my room; one for me, two for Henry, three for nobody.

Am bleating with happiness that new room is finally neat and tidy, though shower room is still a bit grimy and reaks of yucky chemical smell (methinks cleaning lady did not do a thorough job), I will sort that out later. Also think that the world is filled with irresponsible jerks who leave their s**t behind for other people to take care of. K found in her room some unwashed thongs, unwanted food and kitchenware left by spoiled undergrads, very typical. Her shower room is also disgustingly smelly; mine is merely acceptable according to Rachel's standards. You should come see the old room where I basically scrubbed every visible and invisible object.
Creation of chaos out of order: newbie Japanese guy is not happy with plum-shaped Brazilian girl. 8 cupboards in the kitchen and she alone used up 3. When he suggested a rearrangement, fat Brazilian chick says there's no need for discussion because it has always been like this. *impish grin* They can argue as much as they want, can't be bothered to waste my breath on territorial space as long as in the end I get my decent share of the pie.

As I was going to meet HY for his company's baseball match at the Regent's Park yesterday, I stopped by a nearby newstand and glimpsed at the front page of the Evening Standard: David's daddy says Posh has final word. (so to speak) Am no dedicated football fan compared to rowdy Newcastle Utd. devotees, yet this statement leaves me with two impressions--
1) If David finally decides to leave for Barcelona, he is not the one to blame.
2) Daddy's skillful portrayal of a good husband that knows how to respect and listen to his wife, the wife is always the boss. Modern alpha male image: Hero on the battlefield, wimp in the household.
Anyways, just a thought.

From: LC
To: RL, SD, KR, NY
Sisters--
Who's going along to the Primose picnic-system on Fri.?
I want to go, but I need my girls.
L

From: NY
To: LC, RL, SD, KR
Sounds fun, not as fun as Q. Elizabeth, of course... it's a bit of a turn-up anytime jobby, n'est pas, so what time do you fancy going? can fit in around you guys. Hope everyone's smiley!
N x

From: KR
To: NY, LC, RL, SD
Would love to come with you but I'm afraid I won't be in London. Be warned: I went home via Casualty after the last English Department drinks.
K xxx

From: SD
To: KR, NY, LC, RL
Bugger: why do they always organise things this late? I'd love to come, but I'm working a double (12-12) that day and can't get out! Currently shaking many cocktails and will be BL-bound tomorrow if anyone fancies a coffee
S xxx

From: RL
To: SD, KR, NY, LC
Hiya,
Want to go... but our student hall is driving us out this weekend--must pack and tidy up my room. Going to arrive to new dorm in refugee fashion due to loads of boxes and luggage. Hope to see you tomorrow at BL, S.
Take care,
R xxx

Ah, miss them and the months we spent at BL cramming and moaning. Got to get back there soon and work 24/7 after everything is settled!

R: Do you know anything about the Webby Awards?
H: What's the Webby Awards?
R: It's awards that they give out to the best Web sites each year.
H: Oh.
R: Like Movable Type won the one for best practices.
H: See. I'm the God for using it on your blog.
R: Yeah, sweetie, you are always so smart.
H: Tell me something I don't know.

"Good-bye and hello, as always".
Roger Zelazny

Realised this is the last week we will be staying here in Langton Close. Missed the bitching session last night in S's room and K and S's surrealist art performance (don't I live with the strangest people?), but I joined in just in time for a few somewhat smutty topics, and been acknowledged the fact that everyone is moving to different places soon. I consider myself quite lucky to be able to dwell in this student hall. My room is just about the right size (enough for me at least), it has a lovely window view of the garden, it's only 20 min. walk away from school and I get to pass through the idyllic Russell Square, moreover, its proximity to the city centre and the British Library. My flatmates are pretty cool as well, though they like to make fun of me being such a lightweight and having a fancy for men with full lips. OK, not too full like human beatbox Rahzel... that's way too scary.

You know what sucks? Ventured out to the library to read a certain book (another Greenblatt)--it's open for sure--but the English section is closed due to electricity failure. Once again showing the negligence on English lit. and the whole literary world in general. Hence decided to visit Waterstones just to make my little walk a bit more meaningful. Tons of good reads are published in paperback now and tempting 3 for 2 deals are out again. Hum, my wish list:
1) The Blank Slate
2) The Art of Travel
3) The Autograph Man
So head back home and had too much time on my hands to search for my name on Google and Yahoo.com.tw. Surprisingly found out my Chinese name is actually the name (same characters) of a company in Guang-zhou Province--'haoning intelligent devices', how cool is that!

Mornings are indeed the best time of the day, especially after having a satisfying healthy breakfast and hot morning milk chocolate. London is one place loaded with book awards--I checked Guardian just then, and they will be announcing the Samuel Johnson Prize for the best non-fiction books next Monday. Well, what does the mass get out of all this? Participate the Win the Samuel Johnson Prize shortlist of course. I shouldn't be stupid enough to pass this information around as it will decrease my chances of winning, but oh well, I sincerely doubt the likelihood of getting free books anyways. The question,
"No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for... "
What word completes this Johnson quote?
Answer: money.
Why do I know? Ever heard of Google?

Bye, off to the library now.

K's 1 pound slippers

S's Hello Kitty desktop

Was chatting away in S's room last night and suddenly found out that K was wearing one of those blue and white slippers sold 10NT a pair back home. She says mostly everything in Cyprus is made in Taiwan. Hehe, they bring back so much memories. Occasionally you see taxi drivers wearing them, or people who are too lazy to put on proper shoes when they simply want to stop by a neighbourhood convenience store for snacks. Being of half-Asian descent, it might be fairly reasonable for S to have a Hello Kitty desktop. I never adored this cat who had no mouth, but some of my girl friends loved to go to Sanrio stores and buy Kitty products. Imagine how scary a world of pink would be like--they make Kitty microwaves, computers, TV sets and motorcycles, etc. these days. Ah, the Japanese... I just like to make fun of them. Recently also noticed that I've been using quite a lot of the Chinese melodramatic exasperation "Aiyo". Don't underestimate this "Aiyo", as this lamentation could be a major conversational tool--handy in any circumstances. 1) When you disagree with someone stupid. 2) When something doesn't go your way. 3) When showing a tone of caring, anger, sadness... be creative! Plus it's definitely a better replacement for four-letter words.

via MM

Ahem... So basically shared a moment with anti-christ superstar MM last night--he was drinking water a meter away from me and had intimate eye-contact with Katrin; plus self has developed minor crush on one of his black-leather coat guitarist, who trashed his guitar at the end of the performance. (Note: K would like to be referred as her real name in this context.) Got free tickets from S to BBC Top of the Pops recording: a once-in-a-lifetime chance of being a one-night groupie, though HY pointed out that it was for 12-year-olds. Bands were utterly eccentric and popstars (left out spices Mel C and Emma) were chubby and friendly, I suppose. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs were awesome, especially the vocalist Karen O with shrimp outfit, bizarre facial expressions and adorable sweet smile. Inside story? Everyone was encouraged, rephrase, were forced to act like insane, dedicated fans. They created scenes in which a small portion of people were made to look like a large crowd of enthusiasists on your TV screen. The host would say, "On three, give massive, swelling applause," and we were expected to clap until hands had blisters. An exclusive 25-second applause must be given to Emma, which I find quite difficult after listening to her lame song. Near the end, I was in an undernourished and dehydrated state, and all I had in mind was food.

Yet 'tis the summer of kings. Meet Richard II and Richard III come to life at the Globe, and Henry V at the National Theatre. Think that all three are quite a good batch whilst one is basking in London's heat wave. Richard II is a personal favourite. A fantastic play about a king who, in face of the pragmatic Bolingbroke and a new, effective and somehow dismoral worldview, is bound to forsake his crown. And who doesn't love all time political villian Richard III and natural born leader Henry V? Have only seen Henry V with Nicky and Liam so far. It was a lovely night out: Olivier Theatre is fairly well-designed as we sat in the far right corner of the last row but still maintained a good view of the stage. Except the language obviously, they used modern props and costumes, even Henry's pep talks were broadcasted live in Falstaff's pub. (An attempt to resemble American war propaganda scheme? Plus Iraq war hero Tim Collins' eloquence is largely compared to Henry V.) At first I had doubts on whether a black actor could be a dutiful Henry, yet happily, he gave a luminous performance--the flirting scene with Kate was rather amusing. Oh, if you don't fancy royals, enjoy annoying wildlife insects and A Midsummer Night's Dream at Regent's Park Open Air Theatre.

"Like perspectives, which, rightly gazed upon
Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry,
Distinguished form"
Richard II

"There are lots of people, well-offish, who have been to good schools, who can afford to travel about and see the Louvre, etc., and who knows a lot about and can talk fluently about dozens of painters. There is another person who has seen very few paintings, but who looks intensely at one or two paintings which make a profound impression on him. Another person who is broad, neither deep nor wide. Another person who is very narrow, concentrated and circumscribed. Are these different kinds of appreciation? They may all be called 'appreciation'".
Wittgenstein
via Jacob
Jacob as I suspect is becoming more and more of a Kant aesthetics devotee. Though to acquire taste some hard cash is needed, oddly enough; but a poor person should not resolve into bitterness. Hum, am neither 'well-offish' nor able to 'look intensely at paintings'.

I'm a bit behind on this, but our Graduate Reading Group will be discussing on the next 'lucky' Friday, what else, BBC's Big Read (aka the literary Miss Pageant) which was launched earlier this May. Found out that most of my favourites on the list are mainly children's books--due to self's perpetuation of immature mentality. Needless to say, there will be laments over absence of certain books or arguments over rubbish that cannot represent national taste that shouldn't be on the list, etc. Of course inevitable Tolkien and Rowling debates will occur: Compare down-to-earth in-depth Oxfordian and media favourite vanity woman.
My favourite book The New Arcadia as I reckon will not be on the list ever. Dunno... In this tumultuous world, Renaissance knights show you codes of honour and nobility, an eternal love that transcends appearances and a trust in goodness despite providence.

Once again the fire alarm went off in our crappy student residence--this time, however, two in a row. One around 4:30am followed by one at 5am (despite being unable to see anything around this time of the day, was still pissed off enough to look at the clock). Adding a cherry of annoyingness to my sundae of early morning tragedy, while waiting outside for the firemen to come, this architect PhD student approached me and asked, "So, how's your application thing going?" A) You don't ask people these questions at 4 in the morning. B) It's topping the chart of my most hated questions list. The good part is that he will be flying back to TWN soon, hence I'm plotting on to ask him to bring back some of my summer clothes. Woke up in a genuinely good mood though. Dad is seeing writing as a way to heal, and people are giving him nice comments about his elegy, so I suppose he's slightly feeling better. Plus he is still inquiring about my studies; this proves that Dad can still function. Coldblooded A-li, on the other hand, has suddenly realised that his mom may vanish one day as well, so he's behaving more like a son. I guess no one can go on and on about their sorrows.