28 October 2008

This picture of Willa Holland I saw on the skull set today stopped me in my tracks.

3:49 PM;

26 October 2008

Well, you can choose not to, but if you watch the following clips in quick succession, it will induce a highly-satisfying inebriation. Like getting a high on giddy smiles, buttery sunshine, lilting lutes, and lovely things like alliteration. (Which reminds me, Sarah wanted to introduce me to a guy the other day – a fellow English major – grounds for her deduction that we will be able to gel instantly, “the two of you can bond over a discussion of literary devices…”)

9:04 PM;

Our life is not a movie or maybe


Once, while on the last train home, a middle-aged woman seated directly opposite me burst into tears, and sobbed through a mostly incoherent outpouring of her grievances on her cellphone. People in the same cabin just bolted. They made for other cabins - where they could continue their conversations or daydreams in silence. I looked down nervously at my hands and listened to her narrative and it wasn't too hard to make out from her mangled cries of "How could he do this to me!" in Chinese that her husband had probably cheated on her.

I wanted to sink further down in the cold plastic seat and weep a few commiserating tears but at the next stop, I got up and walked home. If that had been a scene in a Wong Kar Wai film, it could have been fucking beautiful. But because it's life, it's just filled with empty pathos.

Does life imitate art, or art life?
Why must I hold up life's moments to its celluloid counterparts and despair when it inevitably comes up short?

5:39 PM;

22 October 2008

People have never had a problem disposing of the past when it gets too difficult. Flesh will burn, photos will burn, and memory, what is that? The imperfect ramblings of fools who will not see the need to forget. And if we can't dispose of it we can alter it. The dead don't shout. There is a certain seductiveness about what is dead. It will retain all those admirable qualities of life with none of that tiresome messiness associated with live things. Crap and complaints and the need for affection. You can auction it, museum it, collect it. It's much safer to be a collector of curios, because if you are curious, you have to sit and sit and see what happens. You have to invest in a glass-bottomed boat, which is more expensive than a fishing rod, and puts you in the path of the elements. The curious are always in some danger. If you are curious you might never come home, like all the men who now live with mermaids at the bottom of the sea.
Or the people who found Atlantis.

- Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit
Jeanette Winterson

9:42 AM;

16 October 2008

Hey, go watch the video on Deejay Wheelie Bag's page on The Selby - the latest one. I just feel that when we feel like shit, or feel let down by our surroundings, these pockets of inspiration existing online go such a long way in making me feel happy, and I hope it can do the same for you.

You gotta check out the home of Jennifer and Mike too. I mean, just that front page shot alone is priceless. It may be tacky (how much tackier can you go from a guy in a hamburger suit) but it's not even about that. It's not about Art, it's not about good taste or bad when you get down to it. It's about delighting in what you love, and the exuberance you can see in people's eyes. It's about spirit. I value these so much...but sometimes it's not that easy to get across. And when I complain about Singapore, it's only because people here seem so much like androids and it kills me. It's never my intention to come across as a whiner, although I'm aware I do. Sometimes.

Sometimes, we like to know and see that genius, brilliance and happiness exist. It's almost crazy how happy it makes me seeing all those pictures on The Selby. But it's things like tutus hung up to form a rainbow, a teepee in a living room, octopus lamps, or even just framed pictures strewn all over a wall, that are poignant reminders of how life ought to be lived. And that is something I seem to have lost sight of recently, so reminders like these I hold dear.

12:53 AM;

15 October 2008

Was it simply the hysteria of a man who, aware deep down of his inaptitude for love, felt the self-deluding need to simulate it? His consciousness was so cowardly that the best partner it could choose for its little comedy was this miserable provincial waitress with practically no chance at all to enter his life!
Looking out over the courtyard at the dirty walls, he realized he had no idea whether it was hysteria or love.

I remember the first time I read this passage in Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being and how my heart had shuddered to a stop in a jolt of sharp recognition that I am easily the female counterpart of the protagonist.

This song kills me. Only because I think it is right on so many counts.
I sang it in ktv the other day and was bent over half the time because hearing this song makes me cry and singing it makes my guts double up in pain.


I have no idea whether it's hysteria or love either.
Is it a little comedy my consciousness is directing?
Is it an epic romance of proportions beyond my means?
The way these thoughts whirl around in angry circles in my head leaves me out of breath.

5:11 PM;

The birthday surprises and all the kind words and gestures really did chase my blues away. Thanks everyone.

I dreamed I was dying, as I so often do
And when I awoke I was sure it was true
I ran to the window, threw my head to the sky
And said whoever is up there, please don't let me die

But I can't live forever, I can't always be
One day I'll be sand on a beach by a sea
The pages keep turning, I'll mark off each day with a cross
And I'll laugh about all that we've lost

-Calendar Girl

12:04 PM;

09 October 2008

I gave myself a break from classes today, and amongst other indulgences, had some fun on polyvore. I love those shoes so so much.

2:08 PM;

05 October 2008

Singapore Biennale 2008

The Tuning Fork of the Mind
Shubigi Rao
...Within this space she will be installing various exhibits including a machine that measures brainwaves in relation to external stimuli and in this case, art. There will also be labeled photographs, case studies with notes and obscure tools amongst other exhibits within the space. ... Are these things for real? Do we take for granted what we see and read as truth? Do we believe because of the thing itself or the way it is convincingly displayed? Who tells us these things and where does the research come from?

One Hundred Years of Solitude
Heman Chong
...working between what he observes, reads and accumulates in the outside world, and his own internal state. The outcome could at once be seen as gestural, either singularly or in repetition. For example, his enjoyment of reading One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967) by Gabriel Garcia Marquez has led to the production of a billboard displaying the title of the book.

Wit Pimkanchanapong
For SB2008, Pimkanchanapong is re-creating a Google Earth image-map of Singapore to be installed as a wall-to-wall floor covering for the Chamber room at City Hall. The artist has provided stickers or tags on which visitors may provide information about specific places and attach or 'stitch' them onto the map. ... As the exhibition progresses, more tagging will occur and layer upon layer of information will be placed upon the surface of the map. This in itself will be a beautiful, performative process, where public interaction will provide personal detail to an otherwise impersonal satellite image, but the same time, the paper tags will physically obscure and 'mess up' the pristine map.

Pham Ngoc Duong

Pham Ngoc Duong's creepy giant maggots are the size of adolescents making their way up into City Hall's former well-appointed restaurant. ... Breeding in flesh (human, animal or fruit, cooked or raw), the presence of maggots signals the rotting of their host's body. This metaphor for corruption within a system is characteristic of Pham's work. That he has mutated them to giants - as monsters - borders on the comically grotesque and piques our morbid fascination with bodily transgression.

D. 84 Little Guilin (Bukit Batok Town Park) Singapore
Gary Carsley
For SB2008, Carsley has, form a range of photographs taken of Singapore's Little Guilin Park in Bukit Gombak (itself a copy of the real Guilin in China, and representative of 'Chinese-ness' in Singapore) and Jurong's Chinese Garden, selected images and re-rendered them in faux wood-grain. These images have been creatively applied to selected IKEA furniture to create two installations... Surface representations, identity of the nation and self, interiorly and exteriorly, become sources for the creation and reading of the work.

E Chen
E Chen is showing sculptures made of woollen yarn. The yarn is elaborately woven to take the shape of a scooter and a lamppost with ivy growing around it. E Chen's use of this material makes his artworks very flexible, expandable and even soft and ephemeral - qualities which go against many of the traditional notions of sculpture. Another aspect of the artwork is that the tips of the yarn are hooked to, and pulled by, a motor on the ceiling and very slowly wound up so that the sculptures gradually unraveled. By the end of the exhibition the artwork will have disappeared... Although it is said that art is immortal, in fact nothing is permanent, and that idea is symbolically proved in this installation.

Zadok Ben-David
Among his latest works, Ben-David has created floor-based installations of thousands of small, wispy metallic plants emanating from a rectangle of white sand...The 'plants', which are etched out of metal, come from botanical drawings and are painted black on one side, while on the other, a myriad of colours is visible. All the plants are installed with the coloured side facing one end of the installation and black facing the other. ... The experience on seeing the black change into colour, and vice-versa, row by row, is mesmerizing.

These are just a few of the many fascinating installations at the Biennale, and if you haven't gone, do check it out, it runs till 16th Nov 2008.

2:01 PM;

04 October 2008

I danced around in my bedroom to this song tonight, when it set off an itch which got my foot furiously tappin'.

Going Up The Country
Kitty, Daisy & Lewis

11:15 PM;

about me

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I lean my head slowly to the side, reflect on the camellia on the moss of the temple, reflect on a cup of tea, while outside the wind is rustling the foliage, the forward rush of life is crystallised in a brilliant jewel of a moment that knows neither plans nor future, human destiny is rescued from the pale succession of days, glows with light at last and, surpassing time, warms my tranquil heart.

- The Elegance of the Hedgehog,
Muriel Barbery


Tan Leather Chair

Nicely Skewed Charm


The Glass Pane

go fug yourself


Some Required

Style Bubble

The cherry blossom girl

The Unicorn Diaries

Fashion Pirates



Katy Elliott

A Bloomsbury Life

An Aesthete's Lament

notes by naive


daydream lily

Mori Girl



Windy Days

Flying Saucer

Style Sightings

The Sartorialist

Garance Dore

Face Hunter

Copenhagen Street Style

Glam Canyon

Stil in Berlin

Hel Looks

Her Famed Good Looks


Visual Dizziness

the skull set

You Aint No Picasso

Said the Gramophone





desire to inspire

The Selby

Cozy Little Whimsy Nook


Inside A Black Apple

My Folk Lover

Pink Bedroom


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