Unbalanced Vision

Going to Leceister Square almost every day, sometimes it's easy to forget how lucky I am to be able to live/work within walking distance to London's theatre district. London is truly the paradise for spoilt theatre goers. (an understatement?) On nights when I happen to see a really, really good performance, it makes me quite happy and content that I don't mind walking home in the cold air. But occasionally when it becomes such an awful experience, I'd have to hop on a bus immediately. Kings and queens, island princesses, writers, loonies, obedient housewives, salesmen, goats, architects, young lovers, old friends, and saints have all entertained me with their witty dialogues, however, I'm hoping to see a bit more of those miracle plays or Restoration drama on the stage scenery. Nudity seems to have become a trend--two nights in a row I saw a striper in Cloaca and the sinful Henry II in Becket being whipped. Although I don't always agree with Guardian's theatre critic Michael Billington's reviews, I tend to turn to his articles as the first resort. I wonder who will win the Lawrence Olivier Award this year, which is something to look forward to other than the Oscars. Yet I do know that 2005 offers another year of interesting productions--lots of money will be spent on tickets to which I think it's all very worth it.

Also happened on one Sunday: went to my second Newcastle Utd. game on 9 Jan. (FA Cup 3rd Round), and it was fabulous. This time we sat with the hot-blooded Newcastle fans, which means I get to shout and sing as much as I like. It's very chilly watching football out there in the open field--doing lots of physical movements is the only way to stay warm. (Oh, and having one of their yummy hotdogs as well!) HY tells me that Yeading is only an amateur team, hence if Newcastle loses he will be very, very grumpy. Luckily, nothing of that sort happened; Newcastle won and the underdogs can still go home with their heads held high. As usual, there were quite a few fathers bringing their sons along amongst the audience, and these little fellows dressed in their black-and-white striped t-shirt and hats can just about chant every football mantra, and swear, too. A small gang of Yeading fans probably realised that they cannot score, in turn started to take off their tops and swing them in the air--all male of course. If you want female nudity, some genius on the Yeading side brought an inflatable doll to the audience seats, and everyone began playing with it--not the most polite scene you have seen in your life. Then this hot babe fell off the viewing platform, and gracefully landed next to our goalkeeper. Sweet.

Boy with Funny Hat

Score

See the Men Without Their Shirts On?

An Inflatable Doll as Goalkeeper

After two of HY's friends recommended us seeing Polar Express at IMAX, we decided to buy tickets to the 3D cinema as well. Gees, when was the last time I went to a 3D cinema? Probably it was one of those educational trips suggested by Mum when we were kids, so that me and my brother could learn through play. Anyways, the film would be a bit crap without wearing your futuristic-looking glasses, which made everyone look like flies. The special effects were no doubt very impressive, especially when the train went downhill deliberately aiming to make you feel dizzy. I also felt a bit dizzy after eating too much of HY's sweet toffee popcorn. Yet don't expect too much about the story; unless you have a kid and want to teach him/her to lie. One scene where a miniature Diana Ross sang a duet with another shy boy about the importance of believing in Santa and Christmas was especially corny, however, I admit that I could have been galvanised by the scene to buy a lot of Christmas pressies if it weren't for January. The story hasn't ended. On Monday I got this vicious flu, and am now coughing like no tomorrow. This, I blame it on the children, spreading the germs around in IMAX.

It was time to stop following Desperate Housewives, the recent hyped up TV series of topsy-turveydom family values from across the Atlantic, I thought. None of these characters appealed to me, at least Samantha Jones in SATC was comical, but these bored women only know how to sit at home waiting for their husbands to come back; this is the sort of lifestyle I loathe. Either that, or they do go out but appear as brainless shopaholics exemplified by Gabrielle. On a different note, 24's Jack Bauer is getting sexier every minute. It's not hard to understand that both Bauer and his girlfriend have obtained degrees in English lit., which proves that we people are specially trained for intelligent services to save the world. I'm also starting to worry about the portrayal of Muslims in the series. I suppose the Americans are already not liking the Middle Eastern people very much, and now the scary Araz family in 24... Quite frankly speaking, for someone like me who doesn't know much about Muslim culture, after watching this show I might consider fundamentalists a majority? What I'd suggest is a brighter, happier sitcom centred on one American Muslim family. Like back in the 'old' days, when there were Bill Crosby and the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (urgh, ugly outfits) to somewhat change our stereotypical views of the blacks.

If you look at the London Connections railway map, New Malden (a famous Korean community) is actually located in zone 4. Though your address on the envelopes still reads county Surrey, being five stops away from London, Waterloo, Raynes Park counts as part of the Greater London network, therefore, people wearing suits commuting by train to work in the city is an average daily scenery. I, on the other hand, am not thoroughly convinced that this area is just a stone's throw from London. In order to catch the train, it means that one has to lose an hour of extra sleep, eat breakfast, make packed lunch, ride to the train station, buy a ticket, fold your bike, then try and squeeze in onto the coaches with the other sardines--these sardines either put on a I-am-not-awake look, or are reading the free Metro. This gives me flashbacks of my stressful high school days when I had to wake up early to catch the bus, and be ready for our morning exams. The landscape is slightly different as well. They have the hugest supermarket where families come in with huge trolleys to buy a whole month's supply of food; you can even drive away with a washing machine! Community centres that have classes, canteens and swimming pools offer you a sense of belonging and local identity. All this subtly tells me: if you live in the suburbs, you most likely won't be living and feeding yourself alone.

According to my literary calendar newsletter, today is not only auld Robert Burns' birthday, but also the date that the melancholy master Robert Burton sunk into forever slumber. (Close to the date he had predicted--what a mad man.) For months I have been relying on the library copy of The Anatomy of Melancholy which lacks volume three, now my new book published by New York Review Books is a complete edition of three partitions bound in one. I suggest to the modern, melancholic soul to take Burton's extensive study as reference.

My wai-gong (grandpa) suddenly passed away on Monday. According to mum, on that normal Monday morning he went grocery shopping with wai-po (grandma), bought newspapers, went home and started feeling sweaty. They dialed for the hospital, and later on wai-gong most calmly stepped in the ambulance himself and off he went. I was shocked to hear the news, and indeed felt a profound sense of sadness and loss. I've been thinking lately that the death of a loved one might not be tremendously awful, as Mum was comforted with the idea that wai-gong died of a heart-attack, without experiencing much suffering or pain. Most importantly, he lived life to its fullest, at least we'd like to think that way. Recalling a recent conversation on the phone, wai-gong told Mum that he could sleep well every night, knowing that he need not worry about anything. It's the idea of inexistence that takes time to get used to. We don't spent a great deal of time together, yet I've spent holidays at his house in LA, had meals, watched TV and simply chat. From 2000 we would even receive his e-mails every month without exception. At the age of 83, one could easily notice the swiftness of his mind and agility--Wai-gong enjoys ballroom dancing, writing Chinese and English essays on politics, engineering and retirement. He helps people from his hometown in Hu-Nan Province, and even owns a personal website. The optimistic tone of retirement life in The Remains of the Day reminds me of wai-gong. Here's the typical practical wai-gong telling everyone what they should do with their lives:

〈 治 家 格 言 〉

認 清 時 代 ﹐ 意 境 求 新 。 勤 勞 不 懈 ﹐ 身 體 力 行 。 早 睡 早 起 ﹐ 神 志 清 明 。 精 研 學 術 ﹐ 力 求 會 通 。 廣 習 技 藝 ﹐ 手 腦 並 行 。 體 察 入 微 ﹐條 理 分 明 。 準 確 周 密 ﹐ 科 學 精 神 。 平 時 多 準 備 ﹐ 臨 事 見 從 容 。 生 活 儉 樸 ﹐ 力 戒 奢 風 。 飲 食 有 時 ﹐ 嗜 欲 有 節 。 淡 泊 明 志 ﹐ 寧 靜 致 遠。 無 事 甘 于 寂 寞 ﹐ 得 意 不 可 忘 形 。 守 時 守 約 ﹐ 待 人 以 誠 。 交 友 直 以 諒 ﹐ 處 世 要 和 平 。 忠 於 職 責 ﹐ 信 諾 如 金 。 行 為 方 正 ﹐ 舉 止 高 明 。 不 言 人 短 ﹐ 意 態 兼 沖 。 待 人 以 寬 ﹐ 律 已 從 嚴 。 深 謀 遠 慮 ﹐ 趨 吉 避 凶 。 書 以 自 勉 ﹐ 傳 之 子 孫 。 １ ９ ６ ８ 年 ３ 月 ２ ９ 日 （ 青 年 節 ） 文席謀 撰 並 書

The Passionate Man's Pilgrimage, said to be written by Ralegh in 1603 as he awaited execution:

'Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory hope's true gage,
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage'.

Little Black Book

Hello, people, I hope you've spent a fabulous New Year's having rows with the family, and ate like a piggy that you can see yourselves transformed into sausages. I, myself, have exchanged philosophical discussions with HY's parrot Kiki, which involved sentences like, 'Good morning', 'Good night', and 'Let me out'. For some of you tomorrow will be the first day of work after a long break. I shall rise early and dash to the library to grab books about pilgrimage. This year I am using the famous Moleskin notebook to record my 2005 schedule; like-minded geniuses like Chatwin and Hemingway have also scribbled their notes in this black book.