Unbalanced Vision

I. YF's London visit
It's a pity that I didn't get to spend much time touring the city with YF whilst she was here, but am very happy we had lots of chats lying in bed before sleep--she just makes me laugh. The evening before she left, sweet YF also made me lunch boxes to survive the following essay-writing week.

In my room

At a bus stop

Feigning interest on Brick Lane

II. May b-day babies
Friends brought over enough alcohol to sink a battleship at my flatmate S's b-day partee. The next day we downed champagne at Black and Blue celebrating J turning one year older.

Happy b-day, S

You make me laugh

Pizza to the rescue

Happy b-day, J

III. The Blue Man Group
Dear Blue Men threesome: though your show sucks big time, I'm quite chuffed about the blue kiss I received from you--it will be the first and the last one I suppose.

Kiss me blue

The ultimate comb binding machine

Step two

Done, ta da!

B's water storage device

Tomorrow is the deadline, and this afternoon I'm having my virgin try at B's comb binding machine. It's amazing how you can do this yourself at home without having to rush your papers to the print shop at ULU. Now that the hard copies are sealed inside the brown paper envelopes as they should be, I hope the content will be OK. B's deadline is tomorrow as well. The poor guy has been under a lot of stress... these past few weeks we've been hearing sporadic shouts coming from his room: there are the usual low-base noises, and the other day I also caught this high-pitched squeaky sound. Locked up in his room all the time, maybe B is undergoing so much pressure that he has transformed into a mouse, like the guy who changed into a giant insect in Kafka's The Metamorphosis. But thank god he hasn't. Just a while ago the architecture student came into my room to show off the water storage device he designed. That delicate thing costs a glorious 150 pounds--I'm glad that I only have to pay for A4 paper.

Revision month is in fully swing in the household of Rachel, and reams of paper are lying on the desk. By the end of this week I must finish revising my Introduction and research workshop review. Next week is the final editing and proofreading of everything, with a particular focus on the bibliography. Because of the upcoming exam I am unable to see:

1) Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf. I bought a cheap ticket to an earlier performance, but unfortunately the show was cancelled.
2) The Woman in Black. One of the leading actors actually offered me discount tickets... sigh.
3) The Guardian Hay Festival again, grrr! I missed this event three years in a row, and was hoping to go this year with B. To fly off in a tangent, I think I have developed symptons of hay fever.

The family has invited me to come along to their summer holiday. A young scholar-to-be in oceanic anthropolgy is going to start his studies later this year, with a full grant, and as most proud fathers would reward their studious sons, this one is sponsoring a trip to Fiji, accompanied with his parents--my brother sure knows how to pick his area of research. As my father says, "If you don't want to be an armchair traveller, you certainly don't want to be an 'armchair anthropologist'". There will be no trench-digging experiences under the sun, nor interviews with locals, and don't expect cheap hotels and lousy food, for middle-aged travellers desire authenticity and inauthenticity. And I am just as excited. Searching high and low for cheap flights on the Internet, I am also looking at pristine images of white sandy beaches, emerald waters, beautiful marine life and the warm tropical breeze; er, the last one was just part of my imagination. Anyways, the ticket prices are horrendous: from London to Seoul to Fiji, or London to LA to Fiji and back all add up to a glorious 1000+ quid. *gasp* In that case, I'm quite happy to stay in gloomy, old London. However, not too long ago a gent who is able to afford 1000+ pound flights to anywhere in the world was spotted in Fiji, on a coconut tree, and later, lying flat next to the coconut tree. That lunatic is none other than Keith Richards. I'm not a fan, but already I am admiring the old man who was said to have a 'self-deprecating humour' and survived debauchery. I suppose I won't be reading news about bro falling off coconut trees. Wildness does not run in the family. If we want coconut juice, we'd just go and buy a can at the local convenience store. Yet I'm quite worried about the island's cannibalism... So dear natives, leave my bro's bony arse alone for it must taste yucky.

By the time Guy Goma stepped out of his house/flat and travelled to the BBC television centre for an interview, he probably would have never thought that the next day he would become nationwide famous. Under the spotlight his impromptu performance, the shocked in disbelief expression just cracks me up. I don't know if I were in the same position, would I be able to remain calm and offer insightful comments on the topic. Now people are hoping that the guy is offered the job he was really applying for. *envy* How I wish to receive fame like that.

110506 Revise chapter (introduction + section I)
140506 Finish chapter revision
190506 Revise introduction
210506 Revise abstract, chapter outline and workshop report
290506 Final proofreading + editing
300506 Deadline
300506 - 070606 Reside in the library
080606 Defence
090606 Conference

Criminal of the Year

The Whistle-blower and the Eeeeeeediot

Wearing green in La Porchetta

Before our assignment to meet up with the Scientology fanatic Tom Cruise at IMF (Impossible Mission Force), YF, HY and I went to the Italian pig place for dinner. I had chicken instead of my usual vegetarian pasta dish for a change, which was a fairly good choice. HY had a enormous dumpling-like thingy and YF preferred seafood pasta. As for MI3, the plot, if it had one, was quite silly that I had pretty much forgotten what the film was about except for the carnivalesque bomb scenes. Basically, not much evidence of intelligence after you've watched 24 religiously. There's the usual self-destroying video clip, the big-white-teeth Cruise smile, the sappy 'I believe yous' and the masks, but not enough sights of beautiful Maggie Q. Plus, they ought to use that awesome gum device in MI One, where you say 'red light, green light' and seconds later the whole room explodes.

Still

Black suits

Flowery dresses

Drinking alfresco

The weather is pretty foul today, but here are some pics taken last Thurday--the first hot, sunny day of this year. *smiles* I just came back from a constructive tutorial session, engaged in enjoyable conversation with J and G at the school canteen and then journeyed back to London to brace more heat. Later on I met up with K at my local pub, The Perseverance, to have some nutritious Guinness! We stood outside amongst groups of office workers in black suits and flowery dresses--oh, and I kept on secretly eyeing the chap wearing a sweet flowery shirt; it's bye to those rigid lines this summer.

Little girls

The elephant

At Smiths of Smithfield for breakfast

It reminds me of the Lilliputians tying down the giant Gulliver, except this time we are the puny little ones stunned by the elephantine image. Human beings tend to make a big deal out of enormous objects; remember not too long ago our attentions were focused on the demise of the poor brute in Thames, or Anish Kapoor's silently powerful red trumpet that seemed to suck you into its deep hole. Size = grandeur and spectacle. Like other onlookers on a cloudy Saturday afternoon, we waited for the arrival of the man-powered elephant, whilst watching the 'little' girl in her cute green dress doing nothing much but blink and smile. As some sort of New Age music drifted in, the elephant very, very slowly stomped along Trafalgar Sq. Besides moving forwards, it could make elephant-like noises and squirt water out of its trunk; well, asking it to do a little dance was too much... Then various exotic people came out of the beast and mumbled some sentences, people cheered but I had no idea what it was all about. Later it seemed that the show had come to an end, and without having much leg room the elephant simply stomped backwards to where it came from; meanwhile I am still hoping that the lazy 'little' girl would at least get up and do some exercise. Oh well, at least my friend is much, much more mobile than that.

To get a fashion statement for the blog, just click Blog Buttons Free; however, if you want a London-to-Brighton-bike-ride-I-made-it glory badge, ask HY to cycle the route for you, or better yet, join the race yourself! I've wanted to participate each year, but there's always something boring coming up during these pleasant summer months, such as exams, grrrrr... besides, I'm not keen on riding the Brompton.