Unbalanced Vision

Weather is crap today, so jogging plan is down the drain unless it stops raining.
To enjoy the early morning at home, I logged on to this site, and discovered a land inundated with beautiful Chinese lasses. Since the advent of digital camera and on-line photo albums, the young and gorgeous have every right to display their glamour shots to the world. I find that:
a) They like to take up close photos.
b) They show their cuteness by making the 'YA' hand gesture or pouting the lips.
c) They like to take pictures with their boyfriends, both of them seem to have injected Botox.
d) In their profiles, they either indicate that they are a bit dumb, prone to tears, or translated from the Chinese phrase, 'pretend to be cute'.
e) No matter what tragic event has happened to the world, they can carry on fresh as a daisy.

This is a far cry from the girls I know. In my next life, I'm so coming back as a womaniser.
"Golden girls and boys all must like chimney sweepers come to dust"--Shakespeare

Play-doh Operation

Was flipping through Boots' Christmas gift guide and found out that they sell such a wide range of stuff, kinda like looking at a thinner version of the Argos catalogue. Wannabes. I've always yearned for a set of Play-dohs, especially the ones that you can make pizzas and cakes. But forming intestines, internal organs of all types, and cutting them apart is a bit creepy?

Air Supply somehow came into our conversation last night. That band makes me feel queasy, seriously. I think Taiwan is the only place on the planet that allows these two very gay men sing in public. And recognising the islanders' love for the dweebs while being deserted by the rest of the world, Air Supply has landed here dozens of times, yuck! Every performance is crowded w/ dedicated sentimental supporters. On our part, the then seven year old little E went to their show at a local mall. S has downloaded a couple of AS hits on her laptop, Making Love Out of Nothing At All being one of them. I confess I did buy one of their albums in cassette tapes, but I was very very young.

Now I'm a jack of no trades, but a master of arts. I suppose it does sound/feel a bit different. Wasn't really waiting agog for news, but when the Board of Examiners (aka Board of Butchers) decided to spare my life, it was a relief. Our pursuit of degrees is an odd thing, and when the media is advertising so much about the importance of education, and getting this degree, getting that certificate, etc., it sounds utterly bizarre. However, I cannot think of anything more interesting than literature. For me personally, the sound of words put together, the hidden meanings behind each speaker and the significance of texts within contexts is something worth thinking about. Added to that is my fascination with our devilish human minds, constantly being reminded to be good. True kindness is rare, but I believe in the existence of an ideal. Moreover, I cannot think of any period of time more enchanting than the Renaissance. To sum up, Romanticists get on my nerves, moderns are dry, medievalists can't write properly, OK, I'm inviting attacks now. UK is an awesome place to study Renaissance English lit. For one, I enjoy old-school close text reading; holding a smelly, yellowish and fragile book published in the 17th century is quite different from merely digging into secondary literature. THe UCL English Department is a cool institute located in a dim, shit hole building across from the dazzling high tech science library. In it are the nation's best media whores, serious learned academics. My supervisor is a jolly middle-aged fellow who insists on the authenticity of Shakespeare's works. All this being my only choice, I cannot think otherwise. Shall get off the soapbox now.

If by any chance you like reading the weekend Guardian and Observer, do poke your nose into Simon Hoggart's diary. Man, this Mister is sarcastic and funny. Oftentimes I agree with his viewpoints, such as having UK use the Euro and the Hutton Inquiry to name a few. However, some of his political stuff are out of my reach. Something more lighthearted, he also has opinions on page 3 girls and Arnie's movies, etc.

An year ago on the 24th, HY and I sat outside on a bench of Ale's and had a fairly nice chat. *nudge nudge, wink wink* He seemed pretty cool, and he is still oozing coolness. Am not into weekly, monthly or yearly celebrations that sort of tosh, and with no intention of grossing you out, I shall entertain you in the fashion of Edward Lear's nonsense verse:

There was a handsome lad of Surrey
Who could do anything but make curry
He had nice full lips
And dazzled his wits
This enough charmed Rachel and made her merry.

Am feeling much love for the nation's Postman Pats, esp. the nice, friendly old man who delivers our mail. Don't want to go into details, but our postman bothered to fetch back my Home Office package, saving me from another couple of weeks of waiting for the passport. The Home Office, on the other hand, are not quite so adorable. It's funny how they always have this line printed on their letters: Building a safe, just and tolerant society; while at the same time, if you ring them up the machine will say to you: This phone is being recorded. We do not tolerant any type of verbal violence.

Have realised this morning while munching on breakfast and slurping milk tea that:
a) S seems to be fascinated w/ nature programs about gigantic sea animals, i.e. Octopuses, squids and sharks, etc.
b) Little E being the squeamish Midwesterner boy that he is, prefers fish in disguise, i.e. fish fingers.
c) Am fond of various forms of marine life, especially bringing them to my mouth.
Would love to watch the recent Finding Nemo movie, but definitely not paying five quid for an animation. Read in the papers that the upshot of this searching clown fish business has led to spoiled kids desperate to have clown fishes in their fish tank. Or imitating the film by flushing poor fish down the toilet, something like that. Is this just as horrible as my desire to eat them all? On a different note, the breakfast I had today was the most disastrous ever. Managed to spill the whole lot of black pepper on toast + egg + bacon + lettuce, hence all is buried in black sand-like pile. Will not want to see pepper for a while.

The English seem to have no problem in exposing their children to death, blood and separated body parts. They think kids can handle the macabre nature of things. A few years ago a British children's drama group was on tour, so me and Mum went to the show when they arrived to Taiwan. The story was one of my childhood favourites, Ali Baba. Certainly you wouldn't expect to see fairies and princesses, but one scene with dummies and red tissues representing their corpses, blood and guts, is going a bit... er... too far? Anyhow, it was awesome! As children, don't we take a ghoulish delight in pulling mosquito legs off its body? Or pour glue on the ants community? Kill Kill Kill! Found this Dahl verse in the papers today, and he sure is the master.

My teacher wasn't half as nice as yours seems to be.
His name was Mister Unworth and he taught us history.
And when you didn't know a date he'd get you by the ear
And start to twist while you sat there quite paralysed with fear.
He'd twist and twist and twist your ear and twist it more and more,
Until at last the ear came off and landed on the floor.
Our class was full of one-eared boys, I'm certain there were eight,
Who'd had them twisted off because they didn't know a date.
So let us now praise teachers who today are all so fine.
And yours in particular is totally divine.
--Roald Dahl's lost and found Ode to a Teacher

When the Yankees pulled off a final win last Friday, it may not be surprising if some decided to end their lives. Little E banged his head on the wall in anger; added to that, he changed his MSN display name to 'I HATE THE YANKEES'. Across the Isle, M being no diehard baseball fan, typed in something pro Red Socks just to annoy E. Am not following any sort of games for some time, but having stayed in Boston during my young and innocent age, I suppose I can support the Red Socks. Little kids in Boston were raised to worship the Socks you know. Our elementary school teacher would walk in the classroom every morning and the first thing she would do was to scribble scores on the board. If we won, everyone went YEAH! Maybe it is really The Curse of the Bambino taking effect. Will they ever get into the World Series again since 1918? It's been such a long wait.

Speaking of socks and stockings, I believe the Christmas season is two months away, and already BHS is selling scary red and green products. These furry smiley faces do not look as friendly as they seem, as with one gentle touch, they immediately produce ear-splitting, horrible sounds.

After Anish Kapoor's red sculpture (which reminds me of a woman's vigina), Tate gave us Olafur Eliasson's sun. I vaguely remember reading one article in Time Out in which the editor criticised the enormousness of contemporary art works in an attempt to appeal. However, Turbine Hall is THAT big, so you might as well use every inch of that space. And in most occassions, size does matter. I didn't hold any expectations to the exhibition, yet as you walk inside the building, it will just make you go 'wow'. It is this yellowish smoky glow of a giant circle embracing you, so comfortable that vistors without any invitation, may lie down, cuddle up with loved ones on the floor the whole day, all within the sun's warmth. In the case I suppose, art's purpose is not to distance but to make everyone feel at ease being part of its existence--the piece would not seem complete without the shadows of our human bodies. However, though lying in the sun's warmth, the scene is purely artificial. It is like enjoying the sun without suffering sunburn. F actually made an interesting point, saying that even the real sun might not be as beautiful. Like Japan's wacky indoor beach Ocean Dome, maybe we never have to venture out into the wilderness again?

And this week's challenge is: Body

The gender of this belly button?

As for the weekly Friday Five:
1. Name five things in your refrigerator.
a) Large bowl of Chinese medicine. b) Turkey ham. c) Milk. d) Minced lamb. e) Spinach.
2. Name five things in your freezer.
a) Hagan Daaz Baileys ice cream. b) Ice cubes. c) Chicken. d) Shrimps. e) More minced lamb.
3. Name five things under your kitchen sink.
a) Sponges. b) Ariel washing powder. c) Mr. Muscle. d) Black dustbin bags. e) Towels.
4. Name five things around your computer.
a) Books. b) Dilbert desk calendar. c) Dark City mouse pad. d) WWF Panda filers. e) A British Library pencil.
5. Name five things in your medicine cabinet.
a) Boots Vit. C. b) Boots Vit. B complex. c) Boots cod liver oil. d) Centrum Vitamins. e) Royal Jelly hand cream.

Received a delightful message this afternoon, so hurried to pick up brand new laptop w/ S. Apparently both the new one and the crappy old one arrived on the same day. Carrying large boxes in sardine-packed London transportation is one of the least things you would want to experience, but whatever, I'd go fetch it even if it's thousands miles away. Have been fiddling with the new machine for six hours straight, it seems that our dear DB (chap associated with HP) has heavily embrodied some facts. EVO N610c (aka evil) does not come with disk driver or burner as promised. It is no Windows XP but a Windows 2000, though I can live with that. Also have to get used to some strange British keyboard buttons--Taiwan is pro US you know. Added to that is the disappearance of my Chinese typing program, urgh! However, still very happy with this toy. Have already changed desktop appearance to larger font and download gigantic Winamp player, as you can see in the picture. Am no fan of delicate things.

'I'm Henry the eighth I am
Henry the eighth I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before
And every one was a Henry (Henry)
She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam (no Sam)
I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry
Henry the eighth I am'.
--Top 100 hit of 1965, Herman's Hermits

S belt out this tune when I made an annoucement that I must watch Henry VIII on ITV1 tonight. I even marked it on my schedule book in case I forget. See how pathetic students of Renaissance lit. are? You notice this as well at Good Queen Bess's exhibition, National Maritime Museum, when the majority of visitors around you are grandpas and grandmas. On adaptations, last month BBC made such a big deal out of the modern Canterbury Tales. Across from the British Library, a humongous board wrote 'Canterbury Tales: Sex, Drugs, and Rock n' Roll'!!?? After watching the first episode, The Miller's Wife, I never watched it again.

Britannia is fighting the Turks, and I still have not made up my mind whether to join E and S at The Sovereign or stay indoors. It's pretty damn cold out there. In the meantime, I shall have some noodles. Speaking of engaging in crusades, I will make a trip to the East next month. It already sounds very exciting, just thinking of all the people I'm going to meet and things I'm going to do! I've stayed abroad for over an year and not been back home once. In the first days of my arrival, I was self-consciously aware of my alien existence on Guilford Street. But after a week or so, surroundings became familiar and no longer did the city seem scary--till I got a bike with hectic drivers yelling 'get off the road you stupid brat'. Anyways, looking forward to the journey. Today Guardian Travel even has an article about HK, which appears at such an opportune time, because HY is visiting there next month as well--their 36 beaches and legendary Christmas sales, quite enticing.

Did you know that to get a Compaq LCD laptop screen repaired in the capital costs 829+ pounds (including the estimate)!? How many working days? 31 days or more to be lucky. I suppose Compaq is pretty annoyed with me now, so they have agreed to GIVE me a brand new one free instead, yeah! Hum, in that case, I want something better, for example a DVD player would be sweet. However, everytime I walk down Tottenham Court Road, Sony tr1mp is like one of those yummy cheese cakes tempting me to go for a bite.

Over the weekend I got round to watch The Hours, finally. I think all the English lit. majors in the world have already seen it. Anyhow, to be honest, I was not impressed. There's just too many tears and bitterness going on there--everyone is crying! Plus suicidal and lesbo act. I'm also suspecting that I have serious hearing problems; actresses in the movie do not talk, they whisper. Or maybe it's because movie watcher was constantly hearing HY in the next room screaming and yelling, 'NO', 'URGH', 'GRRR' to unsuccessful PS2 Getaway plan. Moving on to books, also done reading The Corrections after half an year. Nice modern novel, highly recommended, though again involves homosexual activity. In fact towards the ending, I can feel myself getting quite anticipated with the outcome. It's a happy ending with a hopeful 75-year-old walking out the room. Adore happy endings.

Edward Said passed away last week. The shocking aspect of this news was not that he died, but shouldn't he be dead ages ago? For you naturally assume that the theorists studied in class had already become ashes. Also, it seems that after you die, people generally say nice stuff to commemorate you. Two females each used 'gallantry' and 'worthy friend' on him (knowing the man behind the theory), another gave sincere credit to the profound influence of Orientalism. Not knowing him as a person, Said was mentioned one too many times in our '-ism' course; he was within the canon, as one might put it. His death reminded me of my undergrad years, and maybe I should pick up Orientalism again. It's a privilege to encounter some great minds of the century, and I like the idea of Said fashioning himself as an academic outsider, because 'it is only the amateur who is moved neither by the rewards nor the requirements of a career, and who is therefore capable of a disinterested engagement with ideas and values', cool! The world can still go on without another thinker.

'As I awaited for my Guinness to pour,
I saw a young lass standing by the door.
I wanted to take my chance,
By asking her for a dance.
However, I decided to have Guinness once more'.
by Little E

Little E is my flatmate who studies Archeology at UCL. He turned 25 on 27th September, so S and C organised a package trip in the city to celebrate the event. In retrospect, walking down Gray's Inn Road with flatmates, beer at the old pub around the corner, food at Gabriel's Wharf, movie at Angel and numerous bus rides taking us to the destinations, it was a pretty fun day.

HY and I went to R and Ws' wedding reception on Tuesday. We woke up in the wee hours of the morning and headed towards Norwich, where the nuptial took place. On the way, we got stuck in traffic twice, also situated ourselves inside a lorry parking lot on A140. By the time we arrived, I looked absolutely knackered. HY joked that he invited himself to his friend's wedding, and I am almost convinced this is not a joke, because aside from the 15+ relatives, we were the only friends there. Anyhow, it is always a blessing to witness the voluntary union of a man and a woman. For someone who often likes to add a dose of cynicism to romantic acts such as myself, I admit that wedding vows are touching words of value. This is no laughing matter, to commit yourself to a lifetime of love and companionship. On a different note, HY was slightly unhappy with the lady who pronounced them man and wife. She enquired on the couple's ability to understand English, which was OK; but then she added, 'You are very smart'. At some point, I thought the lady deliberately said the vow in separate words instead of sentences, as it is easier for them to repeat? When the ceremony was finished, HY thanked her with his stylish poker face. Of course the culinary delights are the best part of a wedding. What can possibly go wrong with fresh salmon followed by duck? At night we also had yummy chicken made by R's parents. Set in one of the traditional British seaside towns, Sheringham, I was surrounded by familiar and not-so-familiar Chinese customs. The TV set was showing Cantonese programs, the table had chopsticks and bowls of rice, the people were speaking in Cantonese. It was indeed a friendly and interesting atmosphere. The next day after a good night's sleep, me and HY went for a short walk along the coast--It was a potpourri of dogs, old men and ladies, and seafood. Without much lingering, we left for the south again. There's a warm hypnotic kind of meditation to look at lush green meadows and farm animals from the car window. I vowed to visit the countryside if chances permit; having seen a tired bridegroom, HY vowed to wake up late for his wedding.

1) Comandante: Oliver Stone journeys to Cuba to meet Fidel Castro. The two enjoy nice cups of afternoon tea and discuss about homebound issues.
2) Spellbound: Dorky lexicon geniuses participate in bizarre American brain sport.
3) Kill Bill: Said to be three and a half hours long. Am having high hopes for this one, it better be good if one is to devote that much time.
4) Bad Boys II: Am voluntary Hollywood action films fan.
5) LotR3: Trailer makes the last episode look so very exciting.

Have seen
1) Tomb Raider II: AJ looks funny in Chinese outfit, as do most Westerners. She strikes me as one of those actresses who HAS to make herself look seductive, even when she wipes her bum.
2) The Russian Ark: Major artsy movie so prepare to yawn and doze off, I tried very hard to stay awake and succeeded. In the director's one breath, we walked inside the rooms of Russia's past and splendour, which is honestly quite enchanting and poetic.
3) Once upon a Time in Mexico: No depth whatsoever, but something epic and entertaining for the night. JD still reminds me of Edward the scissorhands after he had his eyeballs plucked out.
4) The Italian Job: Unlike AJ, CT is truely hot and smart. On the other hand, if EN continues playing the bad guy, the lousy weedy con man, I'll not fancy him ever again.
5) Raising Victor Vargas: Shown at last year's London Film Festival. Heartwarming tale of granny raising three grandchildren and puppy love in NY Latino ghetto. Go see, go see!

This year they are convinced that Coetzee's works are of lasting value in the world of literature. I have not read any of them, but judging from the controversies surrounding Disgrace, is it again one of those pieces that treats race and colonialism? Already he seems quite a reticent character--'one to one he is charming; put him in a crowd and he closes down brutally'--sounds admirable to me. Also speaking of prizes, i.e. the Ig Nobel awards, neuroscientists from UCL have proved that London cabbies own bigger brains and are smarter than the rest of us. The value of this rubbish news is merely due to the fact that UCL is mentioned, hehe.