Unbalanced Vision

HY

HY's cousin

What is love? 'Tis not hereafter,
Present mirth hath present laughter.
What's to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Twelfth Night 2.3.43-48

On a Friday night the Cocoanut in Surrey was packed with youths who might have only just passed their legal drinking age, or not. Pimpled and freckled faces abound, and people looking like models in a Topshop/Topman autumn/winter catalogue. It seems that showing your colourful boxers and arses is the latest trend. Rachel pages youth: pull up your trousers; it looks gay. There was a DJ too playing some indie rock, with everyone dancing in their student-like, juvenile way. HY and his cousin challenged two of them in pool, and luckily won, just. I thought the kid played rather well, but he wasn't focusing, laughing and pulling around with his mates like what all teenagers do. In the end he shook the opponents' hands saying it was a very intense game. I should be the last to comment anything on youthful looks; thanks to our Asian genes, sadly, some have said that HY and I look just 18, plus I am still stuck in the underpaid student category. But, hey, I insist that postgrads have the edge, eh?

China Town, London

Xin Nian Kuai Le! Gong He Xin Xi!
It's the year of the dog everyone, and I wish you a year of prosperity and fortune in this dog-eat-dog world! If a dog barks at you, good things are meant to happen. Also, apparently the luckiest colour this year is not red but green, and as mad as the Taiwanese are, consumers are choosing to buy green underwear and bras instead. If you haven't got one, do put on your grassy outfits today. Last evening on the Eve HY's cousin and her friend J came over for dinner. We had fish, chicken, veggies and dumplings, and not a very traditional apple pie + ice cream, yum. Oh, and today HY and his cousins will brave the London streets to see the Chinese New Year's Day parade, whilst I meet up with my mate JC. How about you?

This film is the talk of the town. According to reviews from acquaintances, there are basically two camps on the issue of gay cowboys. My girl friends and closet gay mates generally like this movie, and consider it beyond a homosexual love story. Then there's my heterosexual male friends who'd rather see lesbians than two blokes get down to business. In the beginning, subtle emotions were displayed when Ennis washes himself (naked), whilst Jack is facing the campfire, another one is where Jack wipes the wound on Ennis' head--these make you await for something explosive. For those of you who consider a few scenes too graphic, I'd suggest you grow up. The tent scene and the kisses are nothing. Far from cringing at homo intimacy as I usually do, the movie was done beautifully and poetically--the breathtaking mountains and trees surrounding and protecting the two lovers, and the mellow guitar tunes speak the unspeakable. I must say that my favour for the film was not of its subject-matter, but patriotism. It's always nice to see a Taiwanese director receiving world acclaim, and a versatile and modest character at that. An early issue of Time Out London included a slim copy of the original short story, and both A and G have strongly suggested me to read the book. I also have a suggestion for homosexual lovers who intend to hide their relationships: not that I'm against gayhood, but the two cowboys were certainly not very skillful at keeping their secret, such as kissing right in front of Ennis' house with his wife watching through the window.

Now you might want to give a second thought about your partner's arranged sporting events with mates, as you might know what 'fishing trips' really mean; HY jokingly said to me the other morning, 'Maybe I'm not going rock climbing with K'...

Have you forgotten about the poor old brute's short visit to our filthy river? Only hours before it died I was just about to cross Battersea Bridge where thousands leaned against the bridge struggling to spot the whale. At first I had no idea what the fuss was all about, but seconds later I too jumped off the car to join the crowd. I asked a nearby motorbike man in black, hoping he would point me to the right direction, but of course with his sunglasses on he could not see anything, and then off he went. I asked another man who was holding a digital camera, at this precise moment a barge was travelling slowly in the Thames. 'Look at the yellow boat', he says, and there I luckily caught a fleeting glimpse of the whale's fin, the rest of its huge body was covered up. This sort of thing does not happen every day, in fact I was told not in 300+ years. The incident reminded me of a brief reference in Jonson's Volpone (1607) when Peregrine updates the English expat of an extraordinary sight in London:

'The verie day
(Let me be sure) that I put forth from London,
There was a whale discouer'd, in the riuer,
As high as Woolwich, that had waited there
(Few know how manie mon'ths) for the subuersion
Of the Stode-Fleet'.

Subsequent pamphlets and eyewitness accounts follow. After all who would want to hide the excitement of seeing an enormous creature? But are these reports truthful? Facts get distorted, its size is exaggerated to make the sea monster appear more fightful and humans brave. For an interesting study of early modern whales, do visit my supervisor's weblog (!)

Not! Now is the winter of content, because Jack Bauer is back and bad! In the interim between the fourth and fifth seasons, days were long and dull. I remembered every Tuesday I'd switch on my laptop first thing in the morning just to download the latest episode, and after twenty-four weeks this routine sadly came to an end. This year FOX has decided to spoil the audience with F-O-U-R crazy consecutive hours, and so far the series is still living up to its name. I suppose in a sense these brilliant script writers would be equivalent to Shakespeare in the early modern period, as they know the elements of a good story. However, I share the same doubt with HY, as in the beginning of the fifth season, members of CTU and Bauer's ex girlfriend don't appear to be very surprised/shocked that Bauer is still alive. Anyways, who cares, as long as he is alive. I've got the CTU screensaver, hehe!

I saw a young woman putting on make-up in front of our outside books, facing the shop window today. I was cataloguing books on the computer, briefly looked away from the screen and there she was powdering her face. Perhaps she needs a slight window reflection to be able to look at herself, but then she's also holding a compact mirror. This lady took her time; after the job was done she left in satisfaction. I'd consider it embarrassingly girly to put on make-up in public; I've seen women plucking their eyebrows, applying mascara and painting nails on the train/bus, and I'd hope they conduct such activities behind the door. A friend described her experience of seeing a bloke cutting his nails on the plane--now that's just disgusting. Well, it is not as horrible as the knave who peed at our front door DURING DAYTIME. I've smelt overnight urine before at the bookshop doorstep, but nothing as original as witnessing it. When you've got to go, you've got to go.

On an overcast winter day I returned to Kew to see Dale Chihuly's glass installations again--this time to take pictures. The sun wasn't at its best performance, but the bright colours were still captured. At the ticket booth, a foul-mouthed lady behind me kept on swearing at another woman for jumping the queue. Unbelievable--she wouldn't stop, and so I secretly planned to stick a cactus in her dirty mouth since there were quite a few of those plants around. People generally showed more interest in art than nature--I'd walk pass the plants and their Latin name plates only to stop by a piece of glass sculpture in delight. The glass works and the plants complement each other, but I suppose without the green surroundings the glasses wouldn't appear as beautiful by standing alone. One needs a mixture of the artificial and the natural.

Amongst the cactus

Silver spikes

On the lake

Against the grey wall

Yellow monster in the green

A black week for my eBay Habitat lampshade market. It appears that people prefer styles similar to the one hanging in your grandmother's dining room. (Apologies to the bidders, am just sounding bitter.) Or else they like the uber-trendy types: my flatmate B recently bought one that looks like Medusa's snake-like hair and makes his room glow like a brothel. Anyways, I just want to sell my lampshade!

Red Light District

PS. If you really want to revolutionalise the lighting in your room, why not try these glow-in-the-dark piglets!?

HY is upgrading has upgraded Unbalanced Vision.

It was apt to go and see dancing lions, Chinese acrobat feats and topless Kung Fu monks right after the New Year's. The stage was decorated in screaming red and gold, the colours we associate with fortune and prosperity. Glittering wands of some sort were also sold to the audience. The young girls sitting beside me each had one, but it was not as if the wands can do magic. However, the performances were indeed magical. The lions (actually two people) stood on balls, and then they balanced perfectly on a seesaw. Another two girls walked along the high wire with umbrellas in their hands, did somersaults and rode on a unicycle at ease. They were just like butterflies. Boy, I don't know if they were scared, but my palms were sweaty just by watching the pair. HY said he noticed that one of them slipped off, but it was definitely a minor error. Other shows to name a few include Wu Shu, which I've pretty much seen them before, juggling jars (a 'smart' lady behind me suggested that they must have been made of plastic) and jumping loops--all pretty amazing. The audience were expected to applaud everytime the acrobat/warrior did 'ta-da', but I only clapped when I thought it was truly good.

The one cavil I have about the state circus is their narrator. His loud, strident voice came through the microphone, repeating the phrases, 'two thousand years', 'amazing' and 'wonderful' again and again. Rather than being a good storyteller, he sounded like a representative earnestly trying to show off (but badly) in front of the West. And don't get me started with that gay, strange-looking monkey. I've never liked Sun Wu Kung and his mischievous deeds; in fact, I dislike all naughty creatures in general, such as Curious George and Dennis the Menace.

Thinking back on my Christmas holidays movie list, I am starting to feel that it was a secret scheme to teach me how to like animals. I watched The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill, March of the Penguins and King Kong. Indeed, these beasts were hopelessly adorable. The cherry-head parrots showed distinctive personalities, and I learnt that the attentive parents are usually relunctant to let their children grow up and fly away. Watching the chubby emperor penguins will melt your heart as one after another they march across the iceberg and slide on the icy surface on their fat tummies. It is even cuter when the male penguins spot the ladies finally return from food hunting; they raise their eager heads and start to make special sounds--the couples always manage to find each other amongst the crowd. The 'pilgrimage' as you may call it is incredibly labourous, the long process sounds more meaningful when Morgan Freeman does the narrative. Lastly, King Kong does not look aesthetically pleasing, but godzilla is after all capable of affection, and wins our sympathy as he falls flat like a huge hairy lump. However, after watching these educational films I would still prefer to keep a distance from furry, feathered creatures. The movies send a strong message: beasts should be left alone in their natural habitat where they belong.

Tin Tin takes off

Reflection

Here's another 'Happy New Year!' you've probably heard the 500th time today. No worries, the jolly festivities will all end tomorrow, and everything will be back to normal again, our usual routined lives. On New Year's Eve I was in the mood for nothing special, but my motherly flatmate SJ cooked a tasty meal for us four, and also invited D and L over. The picture is starting to look more cheerful compared to me being alone in my room. We talked nonsense, drank and watched a Ricky Gervais DVD, with the huge 'CENTRE POINT' sign glowing through B's window. Later on, some of us carried on to watch a really sick Korean movie called Oldboy, which was pretty much a party pooper. I went to bed around midnight; at the other side of the globe, my odd pair of parents partied till 2am.

This year I am using a Tin Tin schedule book, and a Chateau de Versailles wall calendar which F gave me. My dad reminded me today that my schedule book is not open until I have completed my bloody PhD dissertation, WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!