Unbalanced Vision

Was skimming through pervy Freud's From Civilization and Its Discontents and came across this line:
"He who possesses science and art also has religion; but he who possesses neither of those two, let him have religion!"
Goethe
How witty it is of Goethe to kindly draw an antithesis between human achievements and spirituality, yet not totally discarding each of their values. If you are pathetic (seems to imply) enough to possess neither of the two, exclamation mark, no worries there's always another option waiting for you. (not the best choice though)

Too tired to write anything original, so I'll entertain you with one of the jokes HY sent me today:

Corporate Lesson
Usually the staff of the company play football. The middle level managers are more interested in Tennis. The top management usually has a preference for Golf.
Finding: As you go up the corporate ladder, the balls reduce in size.

No wonder HY and his colleagues play football every Monday. Oh, wait, but they play softball as well.

Today's news is tomorrow's history.

Always think that I'd keep unread newspapers, just in case there's time in the future for me to read them; wait till you see a seemingly innocuous stack of clutter gradually piling up in your room, then you'll realise there's no chance to review old news again--'tis wise to simply throw them away. Hours of working on the dissertation results in scant time for reading other stuff, though I did manage to get a glimpse of a picture of Blair + Witch (notably the Blair Witch Project, hehe) posing amongst a bunch of Gormley's tiny men, which is currently exhibited in China. (Bear a resemblance to our Terra Cotta Warriors?) And that she also belt out a successful tune of Beatles' "When I'm 64" in front of Tsinghua University students. Actually a rather nice touch amidst their thorny questions.

Congrats to my super duper old friend since elementary school Harry, who is now officially a master of physics, brainy Einstein he is. Humpf... mine still has a long away to go. Sincerely hope that I will be a master of something soon, too.

This freaky friend swapping service, Friendster, is reaching unprecedented heights of madness, for some LA dude who thinks he's the God of hipdom will hip the winner to "extreme level of coolness". Very amusing.

Back from BL and eaten. *kisses floor*
Going to BL has become part of my quotidian existence. So far this week I have been doing marathon reading, and boy am I knackered. Really hope all this studying will at least allow me to have something intelligent to say in the paper. Though I try to make an effort to avoid him, the old geezer I mentioned days ago was right there waiting at the escalator, thus I had no choice but to engage in little conversation. He asked, when I say I'm worried, is it true that I'm really worried, or that saying so gives me a sexual thrill, like a glass of champagne down the throat? Uh, both? Or rather I cannot be bothered to have coffee with you so use it as an excuse. Hum... saw him talking to other Asian girls today... Another thing is that while talking to SD over lunch, found out that I'm always clueless about the 'who-fancies-who' topic, and hence become utterly surprised when some kind herald finally keeps me informed. Finally at the end of the day, it's best to find my bike still locked against the world in smug perfection.

If you are by any chance searching for this pair of feet, they are in the home of Greenwich Mean Time.

Been eating a lot of healthy lovely parental food these days, including the notorious Chinese period soup, yum! Too bad technology has not come up with something like on-line scratch-and-sniff (we've already got mp3 and jpg files, don't see why not?), otherwise I shall torture you with the smell of Chinese medicine--can make my former Caucasian flatmates go nuts. Being an environmentalist as she is, mum complains about the extensive use of plastic bags here. Yesterday's oppressive oven-like weather is also a minus. However, today she enjoys finding her way around town by herself, spending the whole day in Tate, and drinking Starbuck's cheap coffee.

Over the weekend, me and HY suddenly became people who came all the way from Spain to sit in a car park in England, drinking Guinness out of cheap plastic cups. A knockout female Jamie Oliver was there as well. Though she did not teach me any to die for recipes, she taught me this word, and this word was used a lot during the night. There were discussions on using electric toothbrushes, and later a man attempted to leap over a mailbox. On a gorgeous full moon night, one can recall Edward Lear's nonsense verse The Owl and The Pussycat. Good times.

Just read this review on Ian Davenport's exhibtion at Waddington in Time Out. Funny how Sarah Kent describes these industrial glamour as "intensely boring" and "isn't enough to arouse much interest". Yet near the end, she says, "Instead of overloading you with sensation, these subtleties allow you an entrance--something to engage with. What a relief to discover, in the next room, two glossy black paintings traversed by thin verticals of colour. They make you realise how bullying yet vacuous circles seem". HY also liked the larger plain black one which you could see your reflection on it, yet I always prefer looking at a simple straightfoward yellow on a balmy summer's evening.

Visited HY's alma mater AA during Saturday, mainly because a young and maybe upcoming architect V wanted to meet his mentor, put in his words, the "great man". Perhaps I am used to seeing HY among a bunch of friends older than him, this V wearing a pair of golden glasses seemed relatively naive; he had a boyish smile that emanated innocence. Now HY presented his diploma portfolio, just as what he did to me months ago. Anyone would be impressed by the idea of this project, and HY's description and powerpoint imagery definitely showed evidence of the student's hard work and noble concept--a socialist's attempt to revive a not so salubrious Polish harbour. Suppose V admired the elderly, for he sincerely clapped his hands after the presentation, and presumably, confidence does come with age. I do like this cute 22-year-old who only adored movies with touching themes, yet he lacked a carefree attitude and a sense of sureness. Who knows? Years ahead he might be sitting down himself, tutoring other blooming and thirsty minds. And the once smell of tenderness may never appear again.

Dear mother seemed to fancy telling me repeatedly of the story of her friend, Auntie W, who when paid a visit to her daughter then studying at Cornell, discovered the most disgusting bathroom ever. Another story is about the no-mannered girl who washes her face and leaves bathroom floor damp, then unfortunately she slipped over on the patches of mildew and died. The End. There certainly is a message/moral behind these modern fables. Will scrub bathroom inside-out, upside-down, around and around before the lady fascist arrives. Love to project fake images, you know.

Don't know if there's a certain cachet to being an architect, because was chatting to my coursemate SD during lunch break in BL, and as soon as I mentioned 'architect', she immediately attached the words, 'posh', 'stylish' and 'rich' to the profession. Or if I mention to friends that so and so is an architect, they make this gasping sound, "Woo~". On my part, I'm always ready and prepared to pound that stereotype into the ground.

So me, little E and S were attending this virtual conference of ours discussing about important current affairs:
R: You know what, I found out a guy in my flat is having an affair.
S: Really? How do you know? You bumped into them having sex?
R: I saw him holding hands with another Chinese girl.
E: Maybe it's his sister or another relative.
R: But his wife and kid are in China.
S: Well, that explains it then.
E: That's OK, because they're thousand of miles away.
S: So that makes it OK?
E: Yes.
S: Well, hello Mr. Amoral.
R: My mum says it's OK, too.
S: Is your mum some type of free love hippy?
R: My mum is odd.
E: My mum says it's OK as well.

Too tempting a culture clash to pass up:
Their political comics Sanctuary about power and corruption is my fave,

This is a story of two boys and their vision for Japan. Chaki Asami and Akira Hojo are aware of the political and moral decay of Japan, hence they choose two parallel paths that will lead them to change Japan from within. Asami will start a career in politics, whereas Hojo will climb to the head of a criminal organization. Women, however, are sadly treated as sex objects, secondary roles to the men.

Their uni social club turns into a well-organised professional rape gang, with a leader that's got the entrepreneurial spirit.

Plus surprising creativity that makes you laugh your head off.

I've been thinking about Lear's repetitive words from time to time:

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones.
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so
That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever.
I know when one is dead and when one lives.
She's dead as earth.

And my poor fool is hanged. No, no, no life?
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more.
Never, never, never, never, never.

Filled with despair, this 'never' *5, according to my tutor, is the one of the most powerful lines in Shakespeare's language. Actually read something on this subject: We are taken into a world beyond words, without the characteristic eloquence proper to the political elite, the courtly society of Renaissance England, Lear's untempered pathos outperforms the tempered ethos--in other words, he simply lost it.
However, we can fake emotions to appeal in persuasion, no?

Some funny old geezer at the BL started talking to me months ago, while I was looking up for reference books... don't know why. Claiming that he was a Oxbridge historian, and have engaged in chit chat with Blair Worden in the men's room (I so don't need to know that--Afterwards could not stop imagining two old scholars talking and peeing, ewh!), he somehow got me into reading his published essay on Shakespeare. Today I finally returned the piece back; not at all interested in giving any comments.
It's too damn cold inside here.
Yesterday on my way way there, newspaper stands had headlines that read: Siamese Twins Drama. On my way home, it changed to Siamese Twins Tragedy. You can learn a lot about people's live and death on this route.
Our department is the breeding-ground of media whores, whilst self rates 94 on the media Guardian top 100.

Know thy past life, fortune telling fun by way of kknow.
My past life diagnose:
"I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.
You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Ireland around the year 1525.
Your profession was that of a seaman, dealer, businessman or broker.
Your brief psychological profile in your past life:
Bohemian personality, mysterious, highly gifted, capable to understand ancient books. With a magician's abilities, you could have been a servant of dark forces.
The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
Your task is to learn, to love and to trust the universe. You are bound to think, study, reflect, and to develop inner wisdom".

Ha, interested in Irish culture, potential successful businessman, mysterious, reads ancient texts, servant of the dark forces--so true.

Was chatting to some of my old friends, and found out that everyone is building nascent careers--some have left military service and are now going to gradschool, taking lawyer license exams, receiving paychecks, or continuing their research. As my ambitious alpha 21st century wonder woman friend Sophia points out, "What we do these years will affect who we are for the rest of our lives", and just how scary does that sound!
F is feeling forlorn, people, entertain the pretty lady.

Currently taking a short break after doing close-reading on Brome's The Antipodes, a play about disorder and topsy-turvydom. Forgot why I chose this text as my main focus in the first place, for disorder is one thing I cannot stand. So now trying to making sense out of this nonsense. On a similar note, also took a sensory test nicked from Cup of Chicha, and boy do I suck! Either lousy British cuisine wears out my taste buds, or studying has taken a toll on my eyesight, results are I cannot get a free brain scan. Speaking about tastes, however, going to gorge myself on popcorn in a few minutes. Such a popcorn Gestapo I am.

Gave my bike a spin around Covent Garden yesterday, and after taking a stylish turn into the alley, was accosted by random granny, "Excuse me, excuse me, when you're on the crossroads, you've got to stop and look... could easily run over someone". *shameful Rachel secretly picturing myself punching granny* Anyways, I sincerely apologised and seemed to remember her saying, "that's OK", but still felt terribly awful. Once in a blue moon you would encounter some conscious urban heroes that dare to right the wrongs, and I'll bet they go home thinking proudly what a good deed they've done today, and that they're the best citizen on the planet. Humph, if I had thuggish appearance instead of looking like such a wuss, would grannies come up to me and give embarrassing lectures!? Oh, well.

We all dreamed last night.
Mine consisted of gorgeous lesbians--by that I mean groups of them. Maybe this was because the night before me and HY went to see Charlie's Angels 2, and all that sassy chicks in fancy frocks, flying, shooting, kicking, dancing and giggling made little room in my mind for the other sex. And for your information, no, it was not a wet dream.
In HY's dream, the setting was in his office; the boss looked over his shoulders for silly HY was looking at porn during work--no matter what he clicked on the screen, some naked woman would show up. Explanations notwithstanding, boss was not happy. Later on, we were to meet before his Kung-fu class. Unfortunately not only was he late, HY also forgot where the class took place. He rang up his mum for directions, and before he knew it, opened the door beside him and surprisingly found out that was exactly where the classroom was--always lucky and in time.
Mum, however, met Grandma in her dream. Grandma was pale and putting on make-up. She looked healthy and energetic; no signs of her severe back pain suffered during lifetime. Dad mumbled something to her, saying "if you hadn't ..., you wouldn't...", and she replied something like, "no need to bother", twice. Then she trod over to Mum and held both of her hands smiling. She must be happy.

Vito Corleone: "Do you spend time with your family? Good. Because a man that doesn't spend time with his family, can never be a real man."

HY's best friend R and W are expecting a lovely baby boy this November, and HY is going to be the Godfather. The Godfather says, "I'm going to buy the Newcastle Utd. kid's kit, teach him how to play, show him how to drink Guinness and watch porn". Parents, keep your innocent little minds away from bad influence.

Was looking at my lil' bro class's bulletin board and found something remarkably hilarious. These kids were having a discussion on this book, in which for some odd cerebral reason, Mum and Dad were characters in it. Mum only got a couple of lines describing her:「她的氣質與美麗又如何讓他一見鍾情，墜入無邊的幸福感裡。此後... 就成為他與東海30年之緣的伴侶。」HAHAHAHA! Trust me, this is fiction. Moreover there's an old photo of young Dad (college years) sitting in front of IM Pei's chapel, pretending to look studious. But here's the fun part: Rumour has it that some media people are thinking of adapting this book into TV series--NO, BAD IDEA. Frankly speaking, 30 years ago they might be romantic left wing young revolutionists, today they are just a pair of middle-aged couch potatoes.

The Japanese are one hell of an interesting people with a culture unique in all the world. For one they take everything so seriously, with the utmost need for you to understand, so that you conform to their social norms without running the risk to embarrass yourself. Instead of being irksome, this is exactly I think what makes them amusingly funny. I always enjoy chatting to my Japanese flatmate in the kitchen. Days ago our little comment about another Korean flatmate led to subtle criticism on the whole Korean community in general. This Japanese lad apparently was not happy with the Korean government for: A) Attempting to change the name "Japan Sea" to "East Sea". B) Denying the fact that the Japanese established universities on the Korean land. He concluded, "I know it's not right for us to occupy Korea, but you've got to tell the truth". Hum, speaking about our sufferings...

Human body obsession: Having Anthony Gormley at your party you might get life-sized soulless bodies constructed from stainless steel bars, inviting Spencer Tunick, however, you get a room full of flesh--of friends (not anywhere near svelte or toned up) you never want to see them naked! Cool.