Thursday, July 29, 2004
braindead at lunchtime
while initially skeptical as to how good dan brown was, i'd unwittingly made the da vinci code my record read - two days. sooooo bloody good - art, history, maths, legends and neatly stacked layers of symbolic code. while first finding it good as i can relate to the artsy stuff - monet first painting in [some-french-named] garden and birthing the impressionist movement; references to picasso and how les des'moiselle d'avignon (i Know that painting!) approximates to vile meaningless doodles; mention of renoir, poussin and other greats and oh, da vinci of course - it soon proves to be entertaining and enlightening when i reached other technical stuff i did'nt know shit about. and it just dispels the notion of Coincidence at every turn, the protagonist langdon able to explain clearly the myriad meanings and connotations of the just as many symbols they encounter.
i think what drives u on is partly the fact most of the book takes place in just one night. there's the unbroken continuity at every chapter's end. and therefore... leaving me stranded awake at 5am. did some last minute h/w and so, another night of random open tong-siu so i wouldn't miss class.
anyway am currently trying to emulate the conveying of acoustics for the guitar, as from the video of november rain. this is one of very few songs, and a 9 minute one at that, with a great video to boot, that i hold sacred as a favourite. so deeply cemented is my affinity for this song that i glean ideas from its video. anyway, it tells of the fictional wedding of axl and stephanie seymour and the specific part i'm referring to is where slash the irresponsible ringbearer strolls cool as u like out the chapel into the desert and plays his solo. solos. there're two of them, and in between the visual switches back to the wedding where axl and ss run out to their car through camera flashes and confetti, and back to the desert for the second solo. this (or was it the first? it's all melded up anyway) is where the camera mightily pans through the plains and we see slash standing/crouching with his legs splayed out, head thrown back, and all emotion in the world emanating from his groin. guitar. well, coincidentally his hands are pretty near his groin.
it's a powerful scene. u really feel the vibes resonating and echoing through the empty air to the faraway rock slabs. what kind of ad to make it? acoustics... a recording studio? great sound... amps? the guitar itself?
it's blatant, audacious plagiarism. and it won't be the last time.
i think what drives u on is partly the fact most of the book takes place in just one night. there's the unbroken continuity at every chapter's end. and therefore... leaving me stranded awake at 5am. did some last minute h/w and so, another night of random open tong-siu so i wouldn't miss class.
anyway am currently trying to emulate the conveying of acoustics for the guitar, as from the video of november rain. this is one of very few songs, and a 9 minute one at that, with a great video to boot, that i hold sacred as a favourite. so deeply cemented is my affinity for this song that i glean ideas from its video. anyway, it tells of the fictional wedding of axl and stephanie seymour and the specific part i'm referring to is where slash the irresponsible ringbearer strolls cool as u like out the chapel into the desert and plays his solo. solos. there're two of them, and in between the visual switches back to the wedding where axl and ss run out to their car through camera flashes and confetti, and back to the desert for the second solo. this (or was it the first? it's all melded up anyway) is where the camera mightily pans through the plains and we see slash standing/crouching with his legs splayed out, head thrown back, and all emotion in the world emanating from his groin. guitar. well, coincidentally his hands are pretty near his groin.
it's a powerful scene. u really feel the vibes resonating and echoing through the empty air to the faraway rock slabs. what kind of ad to make it? acoustics... a recording studio? great sound... amps? the guitar itself?
it's blatant, audacious plagiarism. and it won't be the last time.
Friday, July 23, 2004
silver instruments
my ears are sharp. it's no wonder i hear that faint clinking above the barroom din. the sound snakes through to me, weaving its sure way to tug at memories of kinship. ah... a funny thing, a utopian concept if u will; brotherhood, family and all.
to a boy, yours truly, who earns his living with 12 straight hours' toil daily; first with the early fishermen, then with routine maintenance, then later helping to bring in the catches. after a walk to the bar with the day's supplies, the only time he had for leisure, he'd ponder what more there was to life than hauling fish. and here i am in the last leg of my day's round of part-time jobs, hauling dirty dishes. but there're the pretty barmaids and occasional storyteller or band or dancer.
that being the case, what was that clinking and what was my family like? they came hand in hand, u could say. the rustle of metal on leather, the tink of the silver instruments, heralded my father's presence. i saw him once in three blue moons, and every time he came it was an adventure never to be forgotten. somehow i never resented him for it, leaving me out to live on my own, not fully teaching me his trade. in this way i grew and matured and learnt on my own pace. which was fast. i came across as a remarkable child and when only a tender 10 years, i'd already been advised to 'seek the world'.
it was my dream, and for many others certainly, to see the world. young as i was, i ventured out on sound strategy. knowledge came from experience, the latter from work. i picked up some mild work at inns and wharfs at first. while providing bread and meat, it was where i would start learning the coastal trades, basics up. seasons changed, and u adapted fast, find new outlets for earning your keep. i expanded my skills. i picked up some flute from a songstress staying the winter. i would substitute the cook's helper when he'd take random off days. i visited the carpenter often with gifts of fruits in return for insights and pointers for wood tooling. i had learnt to read and write but had since never practised them, never read books for a pastime.
knowledge comes from books too, u would argue. i wouldn't disagree, but if u could care, it took the experience of those who wrote them to have that information to divulge. and sometimes, books aren't everything. experience is saying u've been there, done that while knowledge merely proves u've read about it. reading is a fine and dandy hobby, but u don't learn mahjongg strategy from books. i've heard somewhere they're building huge schools of learning, resplendent structures - ivory towers, from a foreign translation; armed with libraries dedicated to the sowng of knowledge, and they'll class their students who'll come out with an automated status in society.
ridiculous.
to a boy, yours truly, who earns his living with 12 straight hours' toil daily; first with the early fishermen, then with routine maintenance, then later helping to bring in the catches. after a walk to the bar with the day's supplies, the only time he had for leisure, he'd ponder what more there was to life than hauling fish. and here i am in the last leg of my day's round of part-time jobs, hauling dirty dishes. but there're the pretty barmaids and occasional storyteller or band or dancer.
that being the case, what was that clinking and what was my family like? they came hand in hand, u could say. the rustle of metal on leather, the tink of the silver instruments, heralded my father's presence. i saw him once in three blue moons, and every time he came it was an adventure never to be forgotten. somehow i never resented him for it, leaving me out to live on my own, not fully teaching me his trade. in this way i grew and matured and learnt on my own pace. which was fast. i came across as a remarkable child and when only a tender 10 years, i'd already been advised to 'seek the world'.
it was my dream, and for many others certainly, to see the world. young as i was, i ventured out on sound strategy. knowledge came from experience, the latter from work. i picked up some mild work at inns and wharfs at first. while providing bread and meat, it was where i would start learning the coastal trades, basics up. seasons changed, and u adapted fast, find new outlets for earning your keep. i expanded my skills. i picked up some flute from a songstress staying the winter. i would substitute the cook's helper when he'd take random off days. i visited the carpenter often with gifts of fruits in return for insights and pointers for wood tooling. i had learnt to read and write but had since never practised them, never read books for a pastime.
knowledge comes from books too, u would argue. i wouldn't disagree, but if u could care, it took the experience of those who wrote them to have that information to divulge. and sometimes, books aren't everything. experience is saying u've been there, done that while knowledge merely proves u've read about it. reading is a fine and dandy hobby, but u don't learn mahjongg strategy from books. i've heard somewhere they're building huge schools of learning, resplendent structures - ivory towers, from a foreign translation; armed with libraries dedicated to the sowng of knowledge, and they'll class their students who'll come out with an automated status in society.
ridiculous.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
sydney was
clean.
walking around a few blocks and through darling harbour and all... i saw less trash, if none. very few cigarette butts, on stone or dustbin or butt-out posts. in melb u'd walk past an office building at 10am+ and see already the little congealing ciggie groupies. they stand in an organized circle, seemingly around an invisible round table. only admitting fellow smokers, they stand unanimous in their individual quests of inhaling corruption. and nearby the bin will be slowly crowned with butts side by side, end to end. those mound-of-sand butt-outs appear totally studded with monuments, tiny beige ones sometimes lined with white. not so in sydney, happily.
a bit ostentatious.
so i find out about taranga trains. doubledeckers. with reversible seats. they're neat, but...? and cy will affirm the lack of seats in town hall station. wtf?!
worry-free.
and low on budget as well. with andrew's parents around... it was nice. u remember why things were so much easier, convenient when the older generation is around. breakfast ready when i opened my eyes, supper of krispy kremes, 2 lunches and a dinner belanja-ed. it's like trying to feel bad or imposing but not wanting to. so i'm thinking long and hard for a proper way to say thank u. and by luck, a trip home by wanmun's corolla. (thanks again!)
interesting.
a sunny afternoon at manly, then fleeing a bout of rain. bloody strong winds at bondi, with waves crashing higher than the small cliff. the opera house from the ferry, upclose at night, and in my palm. fried mars. bus stops sans timetables. i think that's one of the reasons melb's considered more liveable? there's a different timetable for every route at every tramstop.
a new city.
i felt like exploring more of the place. it's not half the turmoil of kl.
and the week before that, took cy and andrew around a few places, took my first successful shot of the crown fires in my first session, haha! am pretty proud of that pic, u know. went up the rialto observation deck, made a trip down smith st, took a morning walk this time along flagstaff gardens, and learnt taiko. a lot of firsts... i'm happy. and poser pics are fun.
walking around a few blocks and through darling harbour and all... i saw less trash, if none. very few cigarette butts, on stone or dustbin or butt-out posts. in melb u'd walk past an office building at 10am+ and see already the little congealing ciggie groupies. they stand in an organized circle, seemingly around an invisible round table. only admitting fellow smokers, they stand unanimous in their individual quests of inhaling corruption. and nearby the bin will be slowly crowned with butts side by side, end to end. those mound-of-sand butt-outs appear totally studded with monuments, tiny beige ones sometimes lined with white. not so in sydney, happily.
a bit ostentatious.
so i find out about taranga trains. doubledeckers. with reversible seats. they're neat, but...? and cy will affirm the lack of seats in town hall station. wtf?!
worry-free.
and low on budget as well. with andrew's parents around... it was nice. u remember why things were so much easier, convenient when the older generation is around. breakfast ready when i opened my eyes, supper of krispy kremes, 2 lunches and a dinner belanja-ed. it's like trying to feel bad or imposing but not wanting to. so i'm thinking long and hard for a proper way to say thank u. and by luck, a trip home by wanmun's corolla. (thanks again!)
interesting.
a sunny afternoon at manly, then fleeing a bout of rain. bloody strong winds at bondi, with waves crashing higher than the small cliff. the opera house from the ferry, upclose at night, and in my palm. fried mars. bus stops sans timetables. i think that's one of the reasons melb's considered more liveable? there's a different timetable for every route at every tramstop.
a new city.
i felt like exploring more of the place. it's not half the turmoil of kl.
and the week before that, took cy and andrew around a few places, took my first successful shot of the crown fires in my first session, haha! am pretty proud of that pic, u know. went up the rialto observation deck, made a trip down smith st, took a morning walk this time along flagstaff gardens, and learnt taiko. a lot of firsts... i'm happy. and poser pics are fun.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
quickie
extendedthoughtextendedfurtherandinanswer?
blog.
wow. i dunno where to start. so many things i wanna put down but probably never will. it's been a while... am now waiting for the right time to leave the house to go to wl's for the potluck cookup. will be presenting the gesamtkunstwerk(r) crepey eggs, naturally. malaysian brand, melbourne-based, german-named (remember the definition?) that's me... always waiting for the right time, like my maximum efforts at minimizing travel time. i've a photo of the tram timetable on my wall.
but time passes u by. to the left is proof i've been at blogspot for the 5th month and counting. cy and andrew are here for real. second semester has started. my comics... have not. i've done a fair bit of drawing, real fair, about 1 and 5/6 of visual diary, but cannot for the life of me figure out why nor when i left off (if i bothered). done a fair bit of so-called research into graphic fantasy stuff too, although another fair bit had gone unrecorded. dunno if i can remember all those little things i'd observed. one thing i observe now is i'm using 'fair' quite a fair bit. argh. so really, time is a serious-shit issue.
uni. new lecturers. that's new stories, new entertaining personalities, new cool people. marcus has written 2 meatpie ads that have been running for a decade. he replaces simon, inherent 5 o' clock shadow, stoned aura and free-flow vocabulary and all. jackie (that's jacqueline... see the contrast of the effects names have? yet, what's in a name?) the sexy dark british who left to concentrate on her ph.d has been replaced by toni, from an accounts background. can't argue that it'll give a fresh outlook on this sem, though she's less vulgar... jeff will be sorely missed. as will hot louise and her intense stare. trevor the new drawing lecturer is a kinda downbeat guy. strategy is finished, the new subject is production/post-production and that new teach i'll be seeing tomorrow.
reading cr's blog reminds me of my original blogging purpose. as the blogger copywriters put it, an "experiment in fiction". but it ended up more the journal u see here than a list of my forays into creative writing. should be remedied, that... but sometimes u feel there's so much u wanna write about, to record, to store in virtual memory. is human memory not good enough? or is there just too much to learn that u have to make notes in a weblog? and endeavour to phrase them wittily?
i seem to have a problem with wanting to write more and more, boring or not. yet i'd rather be succinct and smartarse. i wanna read more of everything in every genre, yet would not maintain my zeal as i did with say, enid blyton. i wanna draw extreme cool stuff, yet would not practise on my form. my strokes are alright but sometimes my figures still seem flat.
see? this blog seems to be draggin out already. while i'd sit and ponder the overt notion of lack of time, and in the process let more time slip by, gtg. would be late for the cookup.
but time passes u by. to the left is proof i've been at blogspot for the 5th month and counting. cy and andrew are here for real. second semester has started. my comics... have not. i've done a fair bit of drawing, real fair, about 1 and 5/6 of visual diary, but cannot for the life of me figure out why nor when i left off (if i bothered). done a fair bit of so-called research into graphic fantasy stuff too, although another fair bit had gone unrecorded. dunno if i can remember all those little things i'd observed. one thing i observe now is i'm using 'fair' quite a fair bit. argh. so really, time is a serious-shit issue.
uni. new lecturers. that's new stories, new entertaining personalities, new cool people. marcus has written 2 meatpie ads that have been running for a decade. he replaces simon, inherent 5 o' clock shadow, stoned aura and free-flow vocabulary and all. jackie (that's jacqueline... see the contrast of the effects names have? yet, what's in a name?) the sexy dark british who left to concentrate on her ph.d has been replaced by toni, from an accounts background. can't argue that it'll give a fresh outlook on this sem, though she's less vulgar... jeff will be sorely missed. as will hot louise and her intense stare. trevor the new drawing lecturer is a kinda downbeat guy. strategy is finished, the new subject is production/post-production and that new teach i'll be seeing tomorrow.
reading cr's blog reminds me of my original blogging purpose. as the blogger copywriters put it, an "experiment in fiction". but it ended up more the journal u see here than a list of my forays into creative writing. should be remedied, that... but sometimes u feel there's so much u wanna write about, to record, to store in virtual memory. is human memory not good enough? or is there just too much to learn that u have to make notes in a weblog? and endeavour to phrase them wittily?
i seem to have a problem with wanting to write more and more, boring or not. yet i'd rather be succinct and smartarse. i wanna read more of everything in every genre, yet would not maintain my zeal as i did with say, enid blyton. i wanna draw extreme cool stuff, yet would not practise on my form. my strokes are alright but sometimes my figures still seem flat.
see? this blog seems to be draggin out already. while i'd sit and ponder the overt notion of lack of time, and in the process let more time slip by, gtg. would be late for the cookup.
Saturday, July 03, 2004
who the hell puts a chicken pie
on Top of egg tarts? blardee hell! i go to tapau darntats and a chicken pie, and ordered the chicken pie last. i open the box just now to see two nice darntats broken, becoz the stoopid girl puts the chicken pie on top of them. gone are the days when people used to think a little bit, and worry about presentation etiquette. or maybe i'm just too damn neat. ask wl.
since spending a lot more time together i find a pleasant surprise in knowing there is still much more to this girl i thought i knew very well. delving deeper yet into more private stuff and discovering those lesser-known habits. this sharing makes me proud to say this particular relationship is getting on rather well. =)
yt says one day, that i'm lucky that wl's so tolerant. i Am lucky, hey, but after pondering on it i thought it was just very un-wl to really care whether i check out other girls - nothing wrong with looking at a pair of sexy legs! and anyway my heart's in the right place - or whether i watch porn or of my smoking. i said ... and later wl said it was the chemical reaction. (the meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is a reaction, both are transformed. - carl jung) selambaness breeds selambaness.
but anyway what brought us to the topic, was eva green... another paragon of beauty, cinema-wise, and nude-wise. the film in question is the dreamers. european movie... french, actually, and eva green is french too, and apparently just started and will be in kingdom of heaven. Go And Watch.
my comp's back fresh. so fresh they don't contain all my nice fonts... but going to install massive gbs of software soon, which will bring more fonts (the rmit advertising combi of photoshop, illustrator and quark) and try the games again (gta, prince of persia, runaway, and failing that, a replay of monkey island 3). going to dload kazaa and fill up the mp3 stock. looking at some jazz - detoured into virgin, tested the wrong cd and ended up liking katie melua... call off the search - and speaking of jazz, maybe some diana krall.
shoeny: diana krall. what was that one u played, and recommend some others. i'm sorry to post-it-note this here, but gunbound calls. enjoy kl, u lucky beatch!
since spending a lot more time together i find a pleasant surprise in knowing there is still much more to this girl i thought i knew very well. delving deeper yet into more private stuff and discovering those lesser-known habits. this sharing makes me proud to say this particular relationship is getting on rather well. =)
yt says one day, that i'm lucky that wl's so tolerant. i Am lucky, hey, but after pondering on it i thought it was just very un-wl to really care whether i check out other girls - nothing wrong with looking at a pair of sexy legs! and anyway my heart's in the right place - or whether i watch porn or of my smoking. i said ... and later wl said it was the chemical reaction. (the meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is a reaction, both are transformed. - carl jung) selambaness breeds selambaness.
but anyway what brought us to the topic, was eva green... another paragon of beauty, cinema-wise, and nude-wise. the film in question is the dreamers. european movie... french, actually, and eva green is french too, and apparently just started and will be in kingdom of heaven. Go And Watch.
my comp's back fresh. so fresh they don't contain all my nice fonts... but going to install massive gbs of software soon, which will bring more fonts (the rmit advertising combi of photoshop, illustrator and quark) and try the games again (gta, prince of persia, runaway, and failing that, a replay of monkey island 3). going to dload kazaa and fill up the mp3 stock. looking at some jazz - detoured into virgin, tested the wrong cd and ended up liking katie melua... call off the search - and speaking of jazz, maybe some diana krall.
shoeny: diana krall. what was that one u played, and recommend some others. i'm sorry to post-it-note this here, but gunbound calls. enjoy kl, u lucky beatch!
