whatever pop culture. whatever loose impressions and unshackled listlessness. contrition and what's worth it. but.

faye wong and rain. afternoon stills of grey. the shear of a new page, and it's whiteness that stings or cleanses.

it's a cleanse.

this morning we hung out, chilled out. listening to the OST of 'in the mood for love' where i recounted the story to him in georgia font.

'naoplean dynamite' is a nerdy brainless show but it's sweet and tight. we took a bus ride we never wanted to end. sitting at the second storey we wound through lonely roads. we sipped teh si at far east square and watched old folks line dancing. repercussions at the heineken green room session was a disappointment so we walked to city hall and took a lift up to the bar at the 70th storey. they were playing puccini's 'madam butterfly', that tragic aria that is so sob-inducing. with sofas facing the black sky where the stars were inverted into city lights we drank our beers and cocktails.

we never stopped talking for even a minute, a regular staccato and sometimes adagio.

a belvedere vodka white hankderchief for a memoir.

i combed kinokuniya bookshop and the orchard library for books on edie sedgwick. nada. there was some article on katie holmes originally slated to play her in a film. i'd have died if she did. i'd rather the current sienna miller play edie. she's british and has a more wild child persona that artsy types would want for a muse, minus the self-destructive allure. i want to read 'edie: an american biography' and watch 'ciao manhattan'. they have it listed in the video library at the esplanade. i'm not that big a fan. but the mod look and khol eyes and twiggy era are perpetual fascinations. i like shift dresses. i'm not skinny enough to don her hairstyle though; more like marianne faithfull type long tresses. i'm reading helen cross's 'my summer of love'. what do you really want to read? story of your life? best song to run to is 'the killer's mr. brightside'. the constant bass beat makes you run the whole song, not jog. U2's vertigo has a killer beginning beat. run to 'the shins' if you want a moderate pace. it'll also make you feel like an anti-heroine chic heroine in an indie film. christmas was over in a heart beat. full on, the merry making every day in every spirit. don the same mind and hands. some years you have to go full speed ahead. a christmas letter to read again and again. words that spill over like a broken burst of a crystal chandelier. and new shoes to mark new resolve to conquer new spaces. urban adventures renewed with the cover of festivity that comes with prowling the city after twelve in the morning. today the venue will be, a train, a bus, a car. it's a nice day. the clouds are up.

breathless. i picked this up at the magazine area in borders. mena suvari caught my eye. i didn't buy it but it's going to be my next favourite magazine!

parents swung by sembawang and discovered a bak kut teh store kampung style in a north niche. we drove down there for lunch and it was really good. 60s style 'wo lai ye' music playing with cheesy disco ball hanging from the attap roof, and the bak kut teh soup was nicely herbal and delicious and we had tea with those tiny tea cups and our own kettle by our table on a trolley with a gas canister attached below it. and the banter was the best - when dad can be cheesy funny and we laugh at each others' quirks in a cosy warm manner. sister secrets behind closed doors. my brother had jamie oliver's cook book on his table.

reliable japanese ebi fry set in the basement of raffles city. mingyao and i dressed up with a little more smarts, parading the town in heels and leather shoes. actually we walked like ants, nonstop arm in arm, we walked to millenia walk and had a good beer each at paulana brahaus at the bar counter. they have funky paper napkins, good for scribbling ideas on. we had a satay thought so we walked to clarke quay and sat watching the bungee thing people screaming up into the air and i was going oh shi** each time they were propelled up. infectious screaming - the crowd at the bottom were laughing - transfered emotions. anyways, we discovered the satay place was gone so we proceeded to walk back to the esplanade at glutton square. the satay there was too expensive so we shared a plate of hokkien mee. what delicious, slurpy gravy, oh the lard, the msg and the stock and the juicy prawns and the really rich sauce. then we proceeded to the lobby of the swisshotel to wait for siew jie to pick me up and sat exhausted at sofas by empty concierge desks and amongst frisky hotel and wedding guests. ride home with siew jie - sisterly affections elevated due to sister secrets. a whole fraternity at home. you're never alone that way. i say, i had a good workout walking all that distance in my heels. the hokkien mee killed it all but i don't care. i shall try on my new adidas running shorts later on and feel chic burning all that lard away. next up: responsibilities and cleansing of the heart - love translated to action. a reins on the self somewhat and the loosening of the reins in the other segments. no more minor chords for a while. my aim is to lose some blubber and cut a bob like six years back, and if i'm more bold, something like an edie sedgwick.

my brother, all of sixteen, cooked christmas dinner for the whole family. he spent hours in the kitchen and the food was good. we're all awwww-ed by his effort. church in the morn and opening presents at night. it's really quite a nice noisy chatty affair when you've got seven people in the family. we made do with the impromptu-paper-rose-through-the-heart christmas tree i made last year with the silver baubles. it's always a sweet affair. both my sisters are back from vietnam and we might go on a family trip there next june. dad's getting quite adventurous and mom really wants a get-together holiday. this christmas from the family, i got some moolah, a pair of really cool light blue adidas running shorts, a black party dress and mingyao gave me a great pair of dark blue slim-fit levis ladies style jeans.

message of the incarnate. both in church for christmas service and oswald chambers. ran to the stadium and back but it was such a lacklustre run. i felt heavy. no kick in the bones. only U2 and simple plan got it going at the end. i can't wait to run in my new shorts. vibe for my vanity. nada surf something like, love advice with a tune. tomorrow time: do your homework stuff and meet mingyao for jap dinner and chill out date. start on the refreshing and the rebirth.

Ryan: So, Summer and Anna are both coming to this party.

Seth: Yeah, but neither one’s my date.

Ryan: And they know?

Seth: Oh yeah. They both know that. Come on, man, relax. Look, it’s
a big party, okay? You might be all doom and gloom, but me, check it
out: I’m snowflakes. I’m latkes. Chrismukkah is coming.

Ryan: And when Chrismukkah ends?

Seth: (He gasps) I hate when Chrismukkah ends.

THE OC SEASON ONE: THE BEST CHRISTMUKKAH EVER

When is The OC coming back on TV? Adam Brody made a cult out of his Christmukkah and we should have had a dose this year.

Slurping chilli crabs at Long Beach and walking at East Coast Beach on a cool afternoon and shopping for cool jeans for my christmukkah gift. i need a stocking cos it's one of seth's traditions. we used to have one each in greenmeadows, the best place for the christmukkah feel because we had balconies, trees and stars. we lazed in the car watching the tidy rain as we listened to The Libertines/DCFC/Quincy Jones and blasted home on the highway with U2's Vertigo. hello hello HOLA! we sang carols by candlelight at the church plaza by fort canning hill and stood in the fickle rain wearing shades of blue under an orange umbrella. nada surf's 'always love' is the constant beat these days. the slow/fast sudden pick up of beats. went for a swim today and blasted thirty laps, struggling half like a finless fish. exhaustion is quite a conducive state for creative blabber, like intoxication and too much sugar or too much mellon collie. after chilli crabs we sat in the near empty siglap starbucks with hot drinks by the misty window [and the electric guitar strums a tune for effect]. we laughed in a colour and chat in an artistic state of monochrome [to the tune of ivy's breathy, lacy, record-player sounding 'christmas time is here', hear hear] i wrapped presents in brown paper and pale blue grey sheer translucent ribbons. my new favourite colour is light blue tinged with grey because it's a state of in between and the colour of sleep. i think this is a christmukkah entry. this year it's tinged with grey lyrics and blue tunes. i'm going to learn to line my eyes the way miu miu did on their ad girl two seasons back. coal black with a little french tick at the end ala bridgette bardot. happy christmukkah everybody who loves pretty things!

Your Summer Ride is a Moped

While it's not the quickest (or sexiest) ride in town It's perfect for getting you around the back roads of Rome or Paris

What's Your Summer Ride?

ala audrey hepburn in roman holiday if you please.

So many adventures couldn't happen today
So many songs we forgot to play
So many dreams swinging out of the blue
We let them come true

Alphaville - Forever Young [listening to the Youth Group version in the OC MIX FIVE - on repeat mode]

sad eyes because of sad songs. films tunes that wash your heart away.

so anyways, a friend was reacting aghast to the idea of getting married too quickly. you're going to see her face forever every single day you know, he said. and i thought, that will be super. and i thought about this for a while, and what struck me most was what mingyao told me several years ago. we all assume we're going to live forever. forever young, sings the radio, very nicely in minor chords to make us wistful. but if this were your last day on earth whom would you spend it with? and i say, without hesitation, it would be my dearest musician of course. and so treat each day as if it were the last and don't waste anytime thinking that a better person is going to come along because if you died tomorrow you'd wish you spent another quality day loving that someone you already love all along.

i love you mingyao, you make me feel most precious and i thank you for that.

the morning is haunting, if it's cold. the dark and the cool, i breathe better mentally if the outside condition is as such. wasted morning time, but i showered and listened to music. mingyao gave me a truckload of love. wilco/jack johnson/sondre lerche/nada surf/the postal service/oasis/the killers/jet/the shins/pizzicato five/the oc mix five. on sunday we drove down orchard road with the wind in our faces and pizzicato five blasting out travelling sounds, like a chime, breezing and freezing our faces with love of the light, the lightness of japanese jazz, very ye-ye girl type buzz. we were up in love, up in faith and up with the sunny side of things. salty chicken rice and escalator rides. a haagan daaz ice cream cone one for each on us i got semi-drunk (i like to think that, perhaps it was the lurrrve) on my scoop of black brandied cherry. i live and breathe, but i want to live and breathe.

yesterday i had a phonecall while shopping for christmas presents (by the way, song and kelly is having a sale at wisma, i saw a gorgeous green satin top with asymmetrical straps round the neck and diagonal lines but decided the fit wasn't so good but i got myself a very light pink spagetti strap semi-loose top with scrunched up patterns below the bust and near the waist at a seventy percent discount. must mention this because a shopper's high must not be underestimated) when mingyao called me (mingyao on the phone! halt again, world!) and said he was nearby. so i was broswing through the books (mountains of books at borders! the glory of it all!) and someone came from behind and gave me a squeeze and presented me with a little box of irish cream chocolate sticks. another us thing we discovered together in another chapter involving a cinema and supermarket tripping. and so we had a little impromptu date for an hour where we sat eating irish cream chocolate sticks and sat outside borders on the kerb facing the orchard green, through the external wheelock square apertures, one of the quiet places in a sale-crazy place to sip on can drinks and gaze lovingly at each other (oh cut the cheese already, but i don't care! muahaha) and banter like old friends, best friends, new friends, lovers and strangers that click in the stir of the afternoon shade with books behind us. very woody allen i'd like to think.

rambles. you must be very productive today! says me to myself. do not let my brain and existence stagnate. and aim for a swim tonight. i do love pulling in the waters though i don't dig the chlorine. thirty laps non stop make for very achy breaky thighs but i love that. i've written out and sent all my christmas cards, more than fifty in all and written essays in all of them. i'm vain about this, but i do love my own handwriting. it's painterly.

OH MY GOODNESSESS. GUESS WHO IS COMING IN MARCH? KINGS OF CONVENIENCE! i could never imagine.

time of night, time of flight, time of pinched hearts and astrud gilberto and raspy rusty memories. don't be a slave no more to empty walking. figuring out stops somewhere. cut the rope; i guess, find your formula.in a heartbeat. or a heartache. don't give allowance for looking back. leave it in the framed postcard and that's that. i'm not maximising my potential as a youth [with energy], with a potentially potent mind and heart!

i forgot to take photographs.
mingyao saved the
day and i cleaned my room
and seven friends came to dine
and we had alot of food and
watched a film and
i like playing the host.
And 'wilco'; 'lots of albums for amei!'
from my very best friend in the world
and alot alot alot of music for me thank you you!

i'm longing for the feeling of anticipation before i board a plane to somewhere far with mingyao, at the airport with luggages and my passport. one of the best feelings in the world. *five months, work hard*

hazy midnight commentary on an urban adventure:

an old photo from an old issue of vogue that i really like. few days left to get the perfect shots. ika, salmon, ebi fry, beef soba, chinmi, green tea. japanese food date. blurbs and commentaries. sending snail mail and looking for francoise hardy for a secret something. voila and mon amie la rose. fifty-cent ice cream cones, sitting on a bench observing escalator-people. happy yogalites versus happy desert blokes. we are happy where we are. no need for banal comparisons of the magazine injections of assumed templates for modern life junkies. borders for book smells - in the presence of paper, a palatte of things and people for us to prolong our evening. city girl on a city date with a city boy. urbane brown leather shoes. "what is your favourite opera" - "madama butterfly" - "then i got to get you that box set of la boheme and misc. must-hears for christmas". you're above me and beside me and behind me like a completion. a tour around tangs [souce of chic pointy-toe which i have forgiven for initial pain and resolve to break it in] and wonderings of departmental store magic and pretty organisations for consumer bliss. customary walk to the train station with customary goodbye ritual with customary longing looks of the night gone by. "i love you cos when we're together, it's like magic", so says the musican dude with romantic and bright eyes.

so can i awake in the morn before the too-bright sun shines to splash the laps? grit my teeth, i must.

You Should Learn French

C'est super! You appreciate the finer things in life... wine, art, cheese, love affairs. You are definitely a Parisian at heart. You just need your tongue to catch up...

What Language Should You Learn?

fabulous. a totally apt prediction for my summer 2006 plans.

and i must add, yesterday i saw a really nice candle holder of green glass with square indents. i wanted to buy it because it reminded me of the green glass tea cups tony leung and maggi cheung used in the cafe on their rendezvous. that was the object i most remember in the film. green glass tea cups and chaste hands. what a film. that killed me too.