Unbalanced Vision

On the 23rd S and I invited some friends over for dinner. The turnout was better than expected--about 20 people cramped into T's room waiting to be fed; we only estimated 4! But my flatmate S is a very good cook, chicken, fish, pork, salad, potatoes, dessert... you name it. Everyone left with a satisfied tummy. H also brought over a lot of Tang-Yuan (Chinese winter dessert) which gives you sweet memories of home. Unfortunately nobody liked the Christmas pudding I bought, sigh. Most of the people didn't know each other in the beginning, but at the end of the evening they were able to draw some connection through mutual friends--it's a small world after all.

Where is Rachel?

I spent Christmas Day + Boxing Day at HY's. We sang holy songs at the church and went for a walk at the beautiful Richmond Park.

Richmond Park

Silence.

This is a tree that cannot be chopped down, or I suppose you could if you join the DINK (Double Income No Kids) generation. There seems to be an increasing trend among Britons to discover about their family histories. Two years ago when I spent Christmas holidays with N's family, N's dad received a book on genealogy as a present. It appears that he would like to know more about his surname. In the British Library there's a pamphlet that introduces you to the resources to study personal history. And then there's BBC's Who Do You Think You Are? I enjoyed the series immensily and thought that it would be a good idea if Taiwan came up with a similar programme. The ruling party is much too concerned with constructing an ideology centered on Taiwan, denying history related to China. A programme like this traces your family line way back to the Mainland, perhaps allowing you to put politics aside. Whether you're a descendant of Noah or William the Conqueror, or children of Emperor Yan and Emperor Huang, it's a beginning of an interesting story I say.

Water in the bathroom somehow 'found its way' to T's room located directly downstairs, with drops of water dripping down, then it stopped after a few minutes. Paint and paper are peeling off the ceiling, water stains create a gloomy atmosphere as if it is about to rain, hence S tells T to try not to look upwards at this piece of depressing artwork. She also warns that mold and dampness might cause some type of serious illness. Professionals like architects, interior designers and plumbers gave different explanations to our bathroom malfunction: old pipes, floor or wall leakage, etc. For a moment I start to doubt the practicality of literary studies, but after a nanosecond I insist on its unnoticeable value. Should one write a verse out of this misery? Whatever it is, the landlady agreed to renovate the ceiling and bathroom--a new shower rail is attached to the walls now. What we hope for is a dry house all throughout our stay.

Some young, avid theatre-goers from Taiwan have set up a website dedicated to theatre reviews. Though in its early stages, there are insightful comments on performances and discussions about drama education in Taiwan. It is said that a senior member of the Cloud Gate Dance Theatre was quite pleased with this new blood of critiques. Go see, go see, and this means you, Fran. May I also draw your attention to the recent cancellation of Behzti in Birmingham--has anything similar happened in our hometown before, though not necessarily related to religion? Lastly, guess who gave the wonderful name, 'Playground', to the blog? Mememememe.

How often do you do this hygienic activity? HY tells me that most Englishmen do not wash their hands after using the loo, yuck! Link to this website: a new way for the weak modern soul to confess and come clean for the new year.

I don't drink coffee, and certainly hate black coffee, yet:

You are fresh-ground coffee, black, first thing
in the morning.

You are a life-giving substance. The US government
has secret stockpiles of you hidden in caverns
under the Rockies. When for some reason you
are late to a meeting, world financial markets
are thrown into chaos. Your presence can cure
warts and mild depression, and when you enter a
room, you diffuse a gentle fragrance that
reminds people of the happiest moment of their
childhoods. Cats and children adore you; they
curl up at your feet, where they torment small
crawling things and occasionally lick your
toes.


What kind of coffee are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

These are the two questions my boss asked during our Christmas dinner.
1) What are the most northerly, southerly, easterly and westerly states of the USA?
2) 'ofofofofofofofofofof', guess a word.
Answers are revealed next week.

My colleague S tells me that one of her flatmates is planning to relocate, and Badly Drawn Boy's drummer is most likely to take the vacant room, wow! Though living with a drummer is slightly disconcerting, but imagine yourself bumping into BDB in the hallway, or having supper together in the kitchen chatting about 'music'. S agrees that the whole picture can be cool, but being the Kim and Aggie that she is, S will pull down BDB's wooly hat and tell him to wash his dishes if he turns out to be a slob.

HY's office Christmas bash was held at Nice this year, and luckily I was able to tag along. It's not as crazy as it sounds--99% of the employees are either married, baby-carried, or tarried together (we are none of the above), so they'd like to t.a.k.e.i.t.e.a.s.y. The usual notion of a holiday is when one gets nicely toned-up, yet if you look at past getaway pictures, HY and I are always wrapped in winter jackets shivering in wind and rain--this time it's totally different, yeah!

Highlights of the weekend:
1) Men skipping pebbles + throwing them at each other.
2) Male whingers + brave female swimmer swimming in the sea.
3) Tasted a delicious coconut biscuit + olives at local market.
4) Snails for dinner.
5) Me not having to speak French once.

Christmas Palm Trees

Bay

London Is Freezing

Sunset

Any rhyming suggestions?

There were a couple of lines explaining what exactly is a Turner Prize at the exhibition entrance, but I remember one criterion alone: you must be under fifty. No female or transvestites this year, it's a male-dominant list. All candidates used the medium of videos, but I think that it might be refreshing to see a work of classical painting amongst them. Jeremy Deller's included too many materials in his piece and thus I lost focus of what he wants to express--urban cycling pamphlets and Texas?? Kutlug Ataman's Twelve which deals with 12 people talking about their reincarnation experience is not hard to grasp, but as an artwork it doesn't leave a lasting impression. I admired Langlands & Bell's The House of Osama bin Laden which presented itself like a video arcade game, however I didn't appreciate the other work of flags and the Internet. Finally, I thought Yinka Shonibare's was the most interesting and innovative out of the four. The subject-matter of a Swedish king's murder presented in dance and African textiles was quite absorbing--I hope/predict that he will win. Just want to post this entry before the clock strikes eight when Jon Snow announces this year's winner. Jon Snow, repeat after me: Yinka Shonibare.

It's that time of the year again. Print shop owner across the street has put up some decorative Father Christmas + reindeers skiing prints around her shop window, also the court has a few supposedly Christmassy-looking light bulbs hanging across every shop--you won't be able to notice them if you don't look carefully. Our bookstore, however, has displayed some tiny elegant orange lights. I've seen some tacky bulbs out there, but ours has a warm glow. Lady who owns the print shop has come up with this magnificent idea of gathering the booksellers on the street to do carol singing. Not in a million years! My boss quipped, 'If you bribe me with enough Whiskey I will'. For some unknown reasons, I've been wondering where Mr Newman and the Wednesday window cleaner have been? I see them almost every week at the bookstore during summer, when they each arrive with a bag of books or a bottle of window cleaning liquid. Now they seem to have disappeared. Lastly, just want to mention the Good Gifts Catalogue I flipped through the other day. At first I thought if I had loads of money I would be more inclined to donate trees or a library. Yet what can a starving community do with words and paper? The crucial thing is to quench our thirst and hunger--good victuals it is then! Merry Christmas, everyone.

This is a blog dedicated to the good old bus 73; it seems that one can blog about anything these days. I used to take 73 a lot, during the days of turmoil when I was working on my thesis. The red vehicle carried me back and forth between James Lighthill House and UCL. One of my daydreaming bus journeys on those fine, relaxing summer days, (the atmosphere in sharp contrast to my busy pseudo-scholarly mind), I secretly hoped that a transportation means of some sort will run me over--severe enough to halt my writing, but mild enough to recover and therefore qualify for an extension. Hehe... Nope, that did not happen! (Knock wood.) Today, I occasionally hop onto 73 if I'm exceedingly lazy and don't want to walk to the BL. On a different note, I spotted that mother-and-son research team again on 29. I don't know if they recognise me, but I certainly remember the pair of sad figures. Two years ago the son, possibly in his early 30s, asked me to keep an eye on his books at the Senate House library cos his mum and him are going out for a bite. Now they are STILL in the same library on the same floor studying English lit., with their faces looking as spiritless as ever. Does this include me as well?

I can't believe that I spent 17 quid on a high school drama club performance last night! The culprit is the notorious Reduced Shakespeare Company and their classless story of The Complete History of America (Abridged). People, DO NOT BE SWAYED BY THEIR FAKE WIT or 2 for 1 special offers like me, I sat at the best seat throughout my theatre-going experience, but never felt much sorrier. (At some point, the three actors spray water at the audience for fun--haha.) Apologies for sounding so bitter, but there's nothing as awful as wasting my time watching a lousy story on stage. The acting wasn't even hammy, it was just silly and cheap. OK, I admit there were some jokes I didn't quite understand due to my ignorance about American history. Moreover, the creative concept of a shortened American history can be genuinely interesting; however, they messed it up with tacky props and retarded humor. I'm now thankful that a) I didn't see them insult Shakespeare and b) the play is so short that I can go home early and try and blank out this hideous experience.