a playground for song

My heart is heavy, my hands are cold, fold your heart up like pieces of origami tucking back unto itself and put it in the back pocket and sit on it all day, keeping it warm.

Watch the people, watch the streets. The pulse that beats is hidden under the flesh of the bum, persistent and throbbing and ignored - who cares for the bit of bum on the buttside?

The weight of leaving is more crushing, more heartfelt and more complicated than I thought it'll ever be. Distance, logic, music - loves, come back to me! The sweaty palms that live both in the nervous fateful present and that faded November day, can you live in multiple futures at once? I am the girl at 16 in that schizophrenic monsoon, when the sun shone through the drizzling rain in a wet, sticky humidity and we gripped hands loosely and you kissed me on the cheek. I am the rebel at 18 who walked into the examination hall with my head held high and pen ready who was determined to fail - fail! cheat my destiny by writing in wrong answers because even though I didn't know what I was to be, I knew that this was not for me. Bring it on, I thought with my feet lapping at the edge of the pool. I will fight with teeth and claws and rage so pure and sweet that nothing not even the threat of death could stop me.

And hell they brought down, they did. Rocks of guilt and disappointment wrapped around like a crushing weight, intending to drown. I don't know when that weight changed. Was it the moment at the library, when I saw that cheap, shitty, plastic painting hung over the toilets like a glaring smack in the face and I found how much it could hurt you cut off my hands, hung like butcher's meat, dripping wet slabs waiting to dry and that pain that burned and burned and burned? Was it the moment in the park, the rough stone cold against my butt as I gripped the phone - calling 7,853 miles away: "What do I do?" I cried. "What should I do?" The cackle of static, the sound of laughter and the non-answer: "You gotta do it." Just like that, the line drops.

Scraps of courage cobbled together, glued with sheer desperation. An idea hatched on the bedroom floor. And then.... the mind tires, falters. Fast forward 2 years - a friendship that can never be repaired, another tempers from raw iron to steel and yet, still I am - here, a drifter.

I met up with Chris recently, and I picked up where we left off, the conversation we had 2 years ago. "You know," I said, "I can't stop thinking about home." Sideye. He laughs. More side-eye. Of everyone I know, he knows what I know, and most of all he understands. He lives in the past that is both the past and present and future tense too. He knows what I mean, when I say Family. (complete with fullstops).

Complicated, that's what it is. Every relationship is a bathtub of turmoil, with no-go zones and clearly demarcated areas. No-Go, that's my motto. "I wish everything was clear," I said, whining a bit. "Why does it have to be confusing? Why can't it be easier, just all black & white?" And Chris, that knowing smile, just laughs. "This is coming from someone who does her own shows and studies a masters' while working part-time," he teases, "does that even sound like taking the easy way?"

I don't know. I feel like I've changed, but at the same time I also feel I don't know myself enough or the depths that I can barely even begin to understand (do I even know? or maybe I need mirrors) I feel a bit like back in Melbourne, what I "should" do i.e. learn web, learn coding, become a developer.. VS what I want to do (more art, everything and anything related to it)

Somewhere, I can hear: "when will you ever let go of your fear?" and I want - I want to let go too. To let go of the past. I've become haunted, and maybe hobbled by it. To exorcise.... but how? Through art. I imagine my family cominig for my thesis show, and seeing themselves painted on the walls - can I do it to them? To myself? I paint him as a monster that he is not. I know he is not. But in the past, I saw you as one. Can you see that I don't hate you anymore, can you live knowing I pity you?

This time - this time really feels like the final goodbye to Singapore. If I decide to be truly honest and show it during thesis, then I have to deal with what I have done, and consequences and all. Some people only dream of where I am, I must live up to that expectation - only with true honesty, can I be fully courageous. Then fearlessly, I can fall.


+tsu waited for you at 02:11 a.m.+


I'm terrifically sick. Coughing, sneezing and a very mild fever + aching everywhere, and it fucking stinks cos I have to travel back to SG on Thursday so I'm like drinking lemon water assidiously in hopes that I will magically be OK if not the flight is going to be really uncomfortable

Otherwise I've been pretty busy this week - made the 3hr documentation of me cooking (baking shortbread and making pasta) and then I went for games night and learnt how to play Magic: the gathering. I met up with XY yesterday for the mfa photography thesis show and then we talked about the upcoming show(s) and how she feels about being in dt - it was pretty fun, she's interning at 2x4 right now and feels really to get school over and done with. It's also the most mandarin I've spoken in a while, like practically 5hrs worth of conversing in mandarin

Went to watch The Apple at A&J's place with Jon, Ben and H. and it was really great! that movie was sooooo wacky lol like eurovision on crack and a gold cadillac rapture ending and made a new friend with Jon!!! he's really nice and omg he likes bad pop music too (AWESOME) also had cupcakes and hard lemonade (lemonade with malt cider in it) which made it 100x more fun

Sunday I'm going Coney Island with Ben & maybe A. if she can wake up in time. I've never been to Coney Island... I want to try the real original hot dog, look at rollacoasters and check if it has real american gangsters like comic books!!! :D (for realzzz lol) Anyway it should be quite fun, and I'm glad for a change of place since my entire life has been sucked up by ONTD and robsten scandal. This summer is proving to be full of awesome schadenfreude.


+tsu waited for you at 07:50 p.m.+


ARGHHH I can't even use the word "rage" anymore because it conjures up disastrous associations. Also yesterday I opened my email infront of prof. A (photog) and ARGHHH GMAIL AUTOFILL WHY WHY WHY? it was so embarassing. thank god i have zero twitch factor although he kinda mocked me for it. for fucks' sake. anyhow

the fucking exhibition in the fucking mass of condensed water is so not happeningz. it is the most disorganised fucking shit i have ever laid my eyes on. there's no set theme, because each faculty on each side laid a theme for their own students and didn't consult/agree to each other. there's little commuication, zero cohesion - when we first went to berlin, the students actually thought: "so wait, it's not just OUR show?? but you're all showing too?" no kidding dipshit. did you think you're so important that we would come over, gaze on your facilities and let you use our school for NO FUCKING BENEFIT?

and then they come to me, cos I'm in the materials/production committee with their 3D printing and i'm like what the fuck, do they expect us to print their shit for them? because no fucking way am i sitting infront of a computer for HOURS printing their shit during peak end of the semester rush. you have to be kidding me. not to mention materials cost etc etc etc the worst thing is the dudes who want to live with me, want to extend their stay (from 5 days to 14 days) and i'm like FUCK NO. already there are 4 people living in this house, and ONE bathroom. fuck that shit. it's unreasonable- this is nyc where the land is fucking scarce and the rent is ridiculous and you want to comp out for 2 weeks??? and this is coming from 2 dudes, who didn't even bother to meet me when i was in berlin??? fuck this shit.

foul mood, fear anger and loathing in many equal parts. I woke up with double duty nightmares - horrible ones with small towns full of evil shit. (I kid you not) I woke up feeling cold and scared and couldn't get warm even though it was 80+ outside with the fan turned off. I didn't feel like eating either. I was like: "I need to be around people" so I packed my shit and went to parsons.... which was unfortunately empty as fuck :( :( :( luckily I saw Jen, so I got a hug and talked to some Real People which zen'ed me out a little

i'm just so angry. it's like a bubbling pool of resentment that has finally surfaced and exploded all across - the whole kassel thing, berlin students being assholes, audrey crisis etc etc and now BAM!

okay show's over
nights y'all


+tsu waited for you at 03:49 a.m.+

the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars

Brooklyn just the name of it, sounds like jazz. Brooklyn and broadway and broadwalk - industrial age iced with blues, all glitter and gauze and glamourous "daisy girls" in their skinny flapper dresses and bobbed hair. I was worried, but it's sunk in - living here, it's so easy now as my feet slowly learn how to walk again. The key slids the lock, so to speak

It's warm here, a hot summer like a good cliche should be - hot and fuzzy so much so that it licks against your skin, beading sweat and sticky hands and parched mouths all bruised and redden and swollen with sun. It's so hot it makes rolling in bed hard, as though fabrics are too itchy and the air is tight with dust.

I can't stop humming Jessie's Girl - it makes me think of Amsterdam and stroopwafels and eating capresse salad in the sun at oosterdok

+tsu waited for you at 01:53 a.m.+

lights floating on water

above my head, hangs the phrase: "my head are thoughts flying like birds". I am on a boat, in a dock, in Amsterdam, floating in the world

Travelling is a strange strange thing. It's strange because this has been the longest time I've ever had a "holiday" or a travel; the cities really do blend into each other after a while - languages turning into babel; was it bonsoir or gudennatch I was supposed to say?

It leaves you impressions. Like the bed you sleep on each night, the sheets that tangle - pressed to form sharp lines, fade again, but not forgetten. Like that, it marks your soul, all this travelling. Tumbling in and out of grand places and planes, trains and plains and platzes; fleeting glimpses that feel just like light on moving water.

Brussels was beautiful; delicate and lovely like a flower bloom. Streets of cobblestones, high fluting ceiling and marble spun so lightly it looked like the lacework belgium is so famous for.

lazy to type more, goodnight


+tsu waited for you at 11:03 p.m.+

white coat vamp

In London finally! Stansted was a terrible airport experience, what a nightmare - 300 people in the queue, some dehydrated, some pregnant or with screaming/crying children and only ONE guy at the counter. For 300 people. With no ventaliation, at 11pm in the night. Fucking crazy, took me 4hrs to get out of immigration, halls and the airport good riddance.

Spent a whole day doing nothing except craving vegetables, seems like the atkins diet aka. living in germany has done crazy things to my immune system; I just want to eat salads and vegetables EVERY DAY from now on omg things that are clean and light and delicious with NO hollandaise, breaded meat or cheese. No more alcohol and 2nd hand cigarette smoke. RELIEF.

It's weird being so lazy though


+tsu waited for you at 08:31 p.m.+


Kassel is a fairytale town. A fairytale town with a constant drizzle, damp and soft and fertile as any other fairytale paradiase with wet, green leaves and flowers everywhere. Lavender, poppies, delphiums, elderflowers, daises and asters pushing through earth - this damp dark earth of a bowl with persons looking at the sky.

A fairytale town with fairytale folk - the platz sits above it all, overlooking a park that rolled downwards: karslaue and all its characters. A school sits within it, dreaming dreams of black forests and german folklore: there is the sad ghost who haunts for love and attention, a ghost full of sadness that wanders through the parks at night mocking and pained at once; daniel. There is the changeling with black hair that falls in dreadlocks like she just climbed from the sea, who lives in a paper room with giant furniture and miniature doors, who dances with the image of herself, a doll she made to keep her company whom she shares half a face with; kristine. A lost elf with green-blonde hair that fell through the cracks of reality, crushed with the loss of perfection that she never could escape from; clara. The sad boy who sings with his guitar in the rain, his voice raspy against the out of tune instrument and yet perfectly together, melaloncholically, he knows there's no escape from the bowl and so he sings his sad beautiful songs with flickering tea light, manus.

As for me, I lived with the wizard in his lair. His lair is in the mitte of the village, motzstraBe, a tower of white with flowers trellis along the sides and cobblestone paths that wound around patches of flowers that opened to a dusty home of carpets and books and lofts and tiny metal creatures and sculptures and candles and wood scavenged from forests and other homes, this dark haired wizard in black sweaters and suspenders, in dapper hats and charming, charming ways that made a bed of blankets and pillows for me, with lights that danced around the room and windows that opened to rabbits and sunlight and green and the sound of rain, damp and sweet

I don't know why I couldn't sense the danger, was it the rain that dulled the senses? or the feel that I had inadvertedly stepped into a parallel world? The Germany of magical forests and hillsides, of moss people and wild hunts that lurks below the industrialised self. A place where magic could happen, and perhaps - it did.

In the beginning it was OK - he was very friendly, very charming, then weird things would happen. He would constantly pat my hair like I was a child or a pet, would watch me as I packed and eat potato chips from my hand and took pictures of me as I slept. The worst was during the night of the party, where he and D. was trying to entrap me with guilt and constant pressure and overwhelming me with their combined presence(s) and then - desperate, frustrated and wanting to be anywhere but there, I started to cry. It was the professor bjorn who found me and told me to go since I had the key and called his assistant to help bring me back to the wizard's apartment....

and then in the night, memories: the boy with the guitar who sang to me in tealight, and told me it's alright to be angry and hugged me and told me to hold as tight as I could until it all went away. being in the corridor towards the end, I walked halfway across until I could see the window where the party was held, with just the sound of thumping and the falling rain, the strobing lights with not human figures but the presence of them - a window of shining light burning bright against the silent dark woods, looming and knowing and I stood there watching like a ghost I was slowly becoming in my white coat luminous but no one ever saw me as I watched them stumble drunkenly out from the room to the toilet and back in again not knowing if these legends were feeding off their brightly burning selves. Of huddling in the rain, my skin turning colder than ice and C. in the taxi with me, he kissed my hand as I was bundled away by the wizard again. Then again, the boy with the guitar, we hugged awkwardly over the seats and he kissed me on the cheek as I left. And for the first time, I tried to kiss back.

How is it that sometimes, a time can be so brief and beautiful that it hurts, but it's a good?

I said goodbye to the wizard in the morning as I sliently packed with feet softer than catfalls. He told me he was a wolf, and I was careful not to wake him. But somehow, even everything in despite, maybe he was sad and lonely living in the bowl as well so I climbed up the loft and said goodbye and he hugged me and I wished him well. I don't hate him or what he did (although maybe I should) only that I understood because he was a wolf, a wizard, a wilde luete and that's why I couldn't blame him for it. He wanted to collect me, like a kind of rare butterfly but I took a train back to sunshine and cleared the damp veiling rain and let the sunlight wake me back to reality

Juri, that was the wizard's name.

So what about documenta? or kassel? I think of it as a dream - a summer dream in a town named after a bowl (kassel = bowl) full of soft sadness of people who could never climb out but could only look up, who looked forward to the 5-year reprieve where the town was flooded with newness and strangers, and they were all mad - mad for contact, mad for that something. Maybe it was woods-madness, too much of the forest in their blood, too much of the silent woods, of the looming trees, of the lavender that grew everywhere, of the cobblestones and seeing each other, of knowing everything about everyone and seeing the same faces over and over again in that one bar in the entire town. Of knowing that the biggest thing in there is the park, and there are more trees than people

I feel heartsick for him, for them, for the spring dream but then as I come back to berlin and sunshine and the modernity of metal and ground in my feet - fleeing away in more metal, train and sipping my tundramoo at a bar down in wohnzimmer I can only look back, and wonder about the dream


+tsu waited for you at 03:54 p.m.+


... and everything comes spilling out, now the mouth is open all the pus must flow.

before i left for berlin, i told clive everything. everything about my family, about what happened during those years, the fear, the fact that thesis bothers me so much because i want so much to just go out and tell the truth - to everyone, about this illness i hid for so long; and then the real pure fear of retaliation. so i am either going to be very very brave or very very stupid or very very frightened or maybe all of the 3

i'm scared, i don't feel old enough to be anything but a child and i want so much to make a family or just disappear off the grid like a daydream in a cloud. you can't get away from the grid so says C. well. there are ways: drugs, alcohol, books, shopping - all escape routes. and the biggest escape route of all: dying. and clive said it again, "didn't freud once say, living is the hardest part? dying is easy" and yes and yes and a million times yes, dying is too easy to think about.

I'm just enough like the mood, of curling up in a blanket, of being cocooned, and a hug. I miss my fat cat and his soft, fluffy fuzzy warmth and his cold wet nose and 'mrow?' I'm feeling a bit antisocial, which is really awful timing since we're all supposed to be happy butterflies this week since it's our last weekend in berlin and blah blah create good relations!!! or something. w/e. I'm happy enough on my own honestly.....

.... although, I think part of why I prefer to be alone is because being alone physically makes me feel a lot less lonely than being alone in a group. Sometimes it feels like there's an immeasurable gulf even when we are sitting in the same table, sharing food. How is it possible that I can feel more together with stars light-years away than a classmate inches away from me? This gulf, of immeasurable distances.


OK i need a shower and some real sleep


+tsu waited for you at 03:03 a.m.+

schisse-schoner-s(ch)it down

I am drunk in Europe. I'm in Berlin, drunk off my ass. Sloshed with tequila, numbed with bier, drunk with melancholy and the sadness so heavy it sinks into your bones and grinds your joints until every fiber screams in aching silence. Drunk and speaking with a german accent, a langauge that lends itself to drunkenness. "sch-picy", "sch-it down", "chusse" the words roll themselves heavily, like tolling bells or uncaptured accents. drunken, rolling stones.

The hardest thing being here, is not feeling like you're here at all.

I went to schonenhauser prison, met up with an ex-inmate and we started talking..... I'm not ready to go through and explain everything here again but then she mentioned that she got caught for Unlawful Assembly and then other things she mentioned just traces of it - bits that seemed so familiar until the string was pulled taut and snapped and I was like holy shit Singapore is just like the GDR only cleaner

And that... that knowledge has really hurt. You have to understand, it's always been like: 'oh other people are just over-exaggerating it' or like 'only I can insult singapore, but foreigners can't' or just very simply 'they don't understand' and now, being at schonenhauser prison, listening to vera talk about thought-crimes, unlawful assembly laws, official secrets act, internal security and the stasi and it just hit me like a brick, that this could be very well the future that we/I are moving towards.

I can't explain it, and I'm really really not ready to deal with everything I feel right now. I expected a summer holiday and instead I'm questioning every single aspect of myself, my country and identity. What do I feel for singapore? what do I feel for my country? what do I think of my own personal history? Every time, I remake myself. Mold all over. Remake. Like Berlin, to erase 20 years of history as though it never existed and constantly living at a present, regardless of how ludicrous and insane that present may be. Regardless.

I thought I'll come here, a pilgrimage to Kiefer and Richter and my childish daydreams of cold war espionage and beer. No. Instead, in my face, every corner I've turned I've been faced with my own fear: fear of Singapore. Isn't that so strange? I trace paths of communist dictatorships, of blood and brutuality and wounds that never heal, of keloidmapping and memorials and all I can think of is how shitty Singapore is at remembering anything, how whitewhased our history is and how fucked up we are - maybe those foreigners are right, we are a fucking dictatorship and I wouldn't even admit it (even to myself)

And then there's partying alongside, but I'm just not up for it, this turmoil eating me up from inside like my soul being crumbled for ants, and the weight of it is just too heavy like lead, that even my arms are too heavy to lift, too heavy to write upon

On top of that, is the bloody damn Exhibition in the fucking Cloud - which just doesn't feel for anymore. I don't know how to combine something I can barely identify with some fucking data visualization shitick and it's just driving me nuts, circles and solipsises entanglements and it's just.... argh

I'm not sure whether it's helping or excerbating the situation with the amount of I'm drinking. I mean it's totally normal - if I was on a normal holiday, all this socialising and drinking till 6am would be awesome and welcome but now I can't bear to do any of that, antisocial I am, wandering off museums on my own and paths. I can spend the whole day as the mute tourist, the camera observer, the bug on a leaf as my eyes and my glass-eyes and my camera-lens overlaid to abstract images and watch you in photographic precision.

Haven't really drunk a lot of bier, oddly enough. Just a lot of fruity, girly drinks which are even worse for you - strawberry daiquiris, fluffy blue curacao..... tequila. A lot of tequila. I'm lucky because I don't really get hungover, but tequila makes me dream fluffy things and sleep like a rock (fantastic) like a trip to the moon and back. Although, recently I have discovered loganberry beer and pear cider, which cost like 1,80euros (I need to drink it up tomorrow)

Monday I'm leaving for Kassel and documenta art fair. I'm excited, but also a bit .... wary? IDK. Too many feelings!!

mostly I just can't wait to meet yien again


+tsu waited for you at 01:56 a.m.+

a plague of questions

recently I'm been thinking of family, of home. I can't help it - so many people in parsons have families, and they go against the angry artist sterotype by being good families. Not perfect, but solid. And sometimes, I look at them - I look at Ted holding his daughter's hand, at Dave swinging his child in the air, at Kasia talking lovingly about her son and her grandkids and I think: why couldn't I have had that too?

It's not so much self-pity or any recriminations that I might have had as a teenager, but more like...wistfulness? a fleeting melancholy? It makes me wonder one day, what it'll be like to have a home, a permanent place to cling on to; solid as a bedrock fortress warmer than evening sun.

guess it's just....


+tsu waited for you at 04:00 a.m.+

convieniently, we say

Softly, warmly.
a feeling of sunrise

I wonder, how much of it, is about us? one of us misread, whaddya know? after all, you were so much of my life. listening to six ugly, i remember the taste of that eternal summer.... or the feeling of it, to live eternally in present. daydreaming and talking to crows, to burn forever in the land of shadowy trees and eternal sunset, with music floating from the valleys up to the hill where you and i sat, underneath the tree watching the constant sunset. we lived in that world, of dark dreams and story pain, stories on stories on stories - fanfiction of our lives, and the gossip and then some, and the story i had inside, the one you never knew because we could never be just i.

so often, we fill up each others' thoughts and the strangeness of being far away and suddenly bereft. first you, then bearbear. mostly losing bearbear was harder but even so.... maybe we never had each other in the first place. a coincidental orbit, peculiar tangency that should've never happened and yet....

i'm ranting. my ass is warm under a duvet, half-asleep i am. i dreamed of music today and i wonder sometimes what went wrong, or what happened to us; what caused us to break apart after so many years? was it the show? or did this crack exist all along? i have nothing to say, when words seemed to leap and spill and tangle when we were together once before

mellow, that's how I feel now. mellow and halfasleep and decompression zone. if i had less of a body, i would sublimate into the sea, into air - waves, eddying to norway

raining, love the sound of it - on glass, like the tapping call of wind - hello my love, i have come for you a kiss of cold and lover of frost; each snowflake like a conversation in making, the crunch and bitter howl like a dancer elusive.

+tsu waited for you at 04:34 a.m.+

rippling brook

So long have we been, not unspeaking. I feel like words are escaping as the images grow stronger - slipping through my fingers, I feel like I don't know how to describe my own work anymore. Is that strange? It used to be that endlessly, I would pour out my heart on these pages but now it's just making and work and working and make and now the words are gone.... am i mute, songbird?

I dream sometimes of me holding myself, the willow swaying from rain and wind like the swell of the sea, and with me holding myself I'm dancing like firelight, like romance and somehow together it'll fuse, things will shine illuminate like a dancer in the palm of my/our hand

i think maybe i should never stop blogging. i made lazarus project, and i didn't know what i did. i should've written but i didn't, so now it feels like i'm making something i don't know, this alien child i try to describe when i don't really know. but i think - lazarus is really about violence, it's like the violence in mythologies - godeaters when i think of that i think of the earthsea saga, the "she is eaten!" in the temple where the nameless ones lurk beneath the earth, with only the walls as your guide and no eyes. that endless labyrinth like a well, with the nameless ones lurking and their breath dripping and acrid and nipping at your ankles. i don't think i explain very well, because it's very personal; mythologies. lazarus in this cold cold tomb wrapped in lights and dripping water, lazarus who could not die, lazarus the wanderer in the death labyrinth - maybe why, they were godeaters because they were not gods, but the ones whom even the heavens parted for

it's mostly this image, it just haunts me. actually it was one of my favourite stories as a teenager (like around 14) Tombs of Atun and Ged has finished the first book, where he confronted his shadow. in the 2nd book he goes to the Tombs of Atun, where he meets Arha "the Eaten" one and blah blah blah plot - what really interested me in the story was the claustrophobic narrative, those tombs which the Nameless Ones (the anti-gods gods) lived; each solemn ritual; "she is eaten!" the eunch and the tiny child priestress in black cloths, the glittering dark and maze walls where she learns, a story that gives her a road in the path of the dark where she walks

What is godeaters about? it's about rituals and death and myth and violence: the blood of blood that is poured to ground, to earth that eats dust and man, to the hubris of constellations, each fairytale a sitch in the giant history; tis written in the stars! written in the ground and mud, written in smoke and ash and dreamshares, written in meat and bones people, meat and bones and lights - idk what I'm even ranting about anymore, but ranting yeaaa

maybe i should just go: "it's about sex drugs and rock'n'roll" and end it there because writing an abstract is like drawing blood from fucking rock. I feel so pulled apart, as though i'm trying to dig out the bones that hold the flesh together and it's just. it's just not working D:

I think maybe that's why i'm so hard up on doing a design project

+tsu waited for you at 11:21 p.m.+


I love words like 'chupuzah', such a random collection of vowels with a strong plosive followed by a sharp exhale. I guess that makes me ultrageeky to think about it, but I don't care so *shrugs*

Reasonably happy, I'm going to Berlin! Exciting prospect, if only so that I can enjoy my favourite painting in the world - Monk by the Sea by caspar david fiedrich<3 I love that painting, I fell in love with it as a teenager and I still love it.

Otherwise it's a rather dull existence.... it's been cold, and I've been having le carre desires; cold fog and chilling brilliance.... feeling lonely, but not feeling like being around people. It's like I want to be alone, even though I feel a bit lonely. Odd feeling, oh well

Thinkish still, don't know what to feel


+tsu waited for you at 03:03 a.m.+


Today is a blur - a gaussian blur of snow-turned-rain, my breath is the only thing real, a wet cloud in cold. I took 2 sleeping pills yesterday, wishing for oblivion. I woke up today in a dreamless hell, I check my mail - 2 rejection letters, one from NRF the other from dreamyard. Eyes closed, the pills do their effect; all this is blunted. I fall back into sleep, just nothing but darkness.

I take disappointment very badly. Meeting at 4pm, I grudgingly get up at 2.30 - the sky is a dank cloud the colour of soggy newspapers or dead cottonwool. Today is all camoflauge colours - khakis and brown and charcoal grey with a slash of pink; an offending keloid against the neutrals. Soup for lunch, and my feet comfortably nestled in uggs (don't give a shit, there's gonna be a snowstorm can feel it in my bones) and out the door.

Chelsea chelsea chelsea.... I love Chelsea, it's possibly my favourite district in new york. It's not only because it's the arts district (although it is) but because it doesn't seem like new york. It's dotted with little cafes, diners and markets and BOOKSHOPS(!) I love hole in the wall bookshops, and the food there is excellant.... plus my favourite cinema is there. I just love it, the highline and everything - for some reason, it looks like how I imagine London to be like.

Thought of going for philosophy class, then I half-turned back, and walked into the cinema. Bought a ticket for a 6pm show; TinkerTailorSailorSpy. Walked out. A few doors down, went to collect resources - a bag of doughnuts, a burger, a drink and then ready for the dreaming. I love spy movies, especially le carre ones. It's not so much about the plot, but the atmosphere; that dankness that hugs you at quarters, the shadows underneath those trenchcoats, the silver of pistol all the more shocking after the quiet candences, controlled conversations, clipped syntax and suddenly - a shot; the tears he bleeds is blood mixed with silver.

I love that film. I really really do. It gave me a headache (or possibly cos I walked, half a mile, in the snow, with no umbrella) but I loved everything about it - the quietness, the deliberate non-action coupled with shocking violence; and the irony! The man's name- of all things, is Smiley! (who never smiles)

To escape, into that dream. Ruthless and cold and brilliant like a diamond and that brilliantness; to fight in a cloud, eyes blinded, bodies clashing and the sound of roaring rushed in the ears, deafening; but only to you and you alone because no words, not a breathe, escapes. Only the battered soul, hunched back and you walk out from the cold.


+tsu waited for you at 02:07 p.m.+

I love you in the morning

Thank god 7x7 is overrr @_@;; it was so much work, but unlike last year I actually had fun this time. I did it like a 'fictional documentary' type, presented as remains of a war that doesn't exist and I had quite a lot of fun coming up with items for it.... plus I got to use the laser cutter machine muwhahaaha<3

That project sucked up most of my time, but several things recently happened or unhappened. One was that I got over my crush on J - well it wasn't even a proper crush, more like fleeting affection coupled with close proximity since we shared like 10hrs of class last year. Next was a bit of socialisation fatigue, coupled with general fatigue. Went for C's birthday party, and accidentally passed my flu around to everyone. Then it was S's birthday, and I just gave up and stayed in and like yea....

I think I'm happier off being less social, plus if anything the 7x7 project really gave me a chance to fiddle in the library which was pretty fantastic.

Now I'm chilling on the sofa, listening to coldplay, checking twitter whilist y!Jing and thinking of having another bowl of awesome soup or maybe some more tea (probably soup, since I want to sleep soon) The feeling of peace, is rather wonderful. I feel so much calmer this semester, compared to the anxiety and doubt I felt last semester. I guess having a good tutor really makes the difference!!!

Planning to do a bit of cleanup tomorrow, and then down to chelsea for some arting.


+tsu waited for you at 10:37 a.m.+


i am so tired and i hate everyone rn

that sums it up

also i lost an entire entry, and i just can't be arsed to rewrite it.


+tsu waited for you at 05:17 a.m.+


sick, still sick. wonder what I ate that set it off yesterday, since I was beginning to get well too - was it the cold air? (but I was wrapped warmly, even with a hat and double scarf) the food? (pineapple tarts... but I only had 2; maybe the lobster, but I only had a small piece everything else was just beehoon and rice and I avoided anything deepfried) Anyway all I wanted to do is :( :( :( swollen lymph nodes and tonsils, urgh so much pain, so annoying, etc etc

most depressingly I'm running out of lozenges and painkillers soon, and I don't look forward to it

ok whiny post is whiny
off to try and nap again


+tsu waited for you at 01:56 p.m.+


........... that awkward feeling when you want to hit on a guy that is 16 years older. um. *pauses* Anyway. Its not like we see each other often. Therefore. Ignore. (plus he told me to date L. WAT. NO. it's like going out with my own brother. NO.)

I'm kinda meh about being back in school, and yet excited. the meh part comes from when I was talking to V, and it was kinda obvious that she wasn't happy for me and well, insurmountable distance etc etc idk, it was weird how she was putting down my excitement over the project ("oh I decided to cut all ties in china when I came over") and how she was "more" of an artist than I was because she didn't accept impure work/working for the govt. ("oh, I was offered an important project as well, but I turned it down") and I was all kinda WAT over it. Like. dude. I thought. well. I guess we aren't friends after all.

CNY dinner with sg people was good; ate pineapple tarts and beehoon, plus a lot of clementimes. I think I have a bit of sore throat (again!) just when I was feeling better cos I couldn't stop snacking on them.... terrible self, so masohistic but oh, they were so good. Wore my new nazgul sweater-dress out today as well, it's really warm! I was surprised at how warm it is. It was snowing buckets today, but all I wore was t-shirt + nazgul sweater+jeans+coat and I was pretty good to go. The only thing is that it sheds like hell, but it's worth it for the sheer warmth and fluffyness. Plus I think it makes me look 100000x levels of coolness, aka. deatheater-meets-nazgul awesomelook xDDD

going to sleep now


+tsu waited for you at 02:50 a.m.+

give over to the dream

Reading a lot of gibson lately, this line: "technomadic Gibsonian protagonists "with rootedness in the virtual rather than the real" who "find their true homes in the non-spatial reaches of digital networks" just makes me nod, and go - yes yes, there it is

Snow today, it looks beautiful - large wintry flakes like icing on a grey cake, making everything look postcard perfect beautiful. Most of all is how it looks like in twilight, glowing whiteness illuminating the edges of stills, like whiteout edges or Auerbach drawings; erasures on charcoal. I like winter, not because of the cold (it makes me feel sick) but because it seems like this city only comes alive with snow. I forget about the grey, the ugliness, the rats on the subway and high taxes and give into the city that dreamed up Gotham and art deco and Citizen Kane - give over to the dream that enthralled so many before, and ever more. A vintage dream supersede on reality, you walk across the junctions that Ford might have walked across the very same sky you're dreaming in Pollack.

School starting in a day, don't know what to feel. Wrapped up in my nazgul sweater, I fly across snow laden streets like a black scrap of shadow.


+tsu waited for you at 05:12 p.m.+

Island music

It's weird, I've been humming island music all day. hello my love, it's getting cold on this island

It's so cold today, I watched dawn start from my window - not real dawn, just reflected off buildings; warm orange light on dirty blue glass; prisms of reflections. I watched from the side of my bedroom window (living room really), watching just like in the evenings I watch the offices across me - like dollhouses playacting real life.

It's kinda weird, living in an apartment from Hitchcock's movie.
Even now, he's in there, still in his office, at 10.30pm on a Thursday night.

Went to the doctor's today, walked there. I did a small loop, cutting across Ktown so I could pick up sponge cake again then dropped by 12F to check if clive or ted was there just to say hi. They weren't, but it's OK. Signed in with ISS, and registered my alien presence with revelant authorities then headed to the medical clinic. Surprisingly the drop-in wait was pretty short, and most interesting was how they made me fill up this huge stack of forms about medical history and everything - it's so comprehensive how much the school really *does* care about you; questions about depression and body image, history of blood pressure and everything under the sun etc etc etc

Weird as fuck but ever since I've heard that ff0 rendition I've been humming PoTC's davy jone's epic theme song complete with crazy organ bells. I love that theme, it always sounds like how it looks like, and how it looks like is like how it sounds (somehow, it should be EPICALLY played; anything less is unworthy.) I love the Hoist the Colours remix with Up is Down as well; it sounds freakin' glorious

Settling down fine, but feeling antsy and just the slightest tinge of rebellion. I think I go through periods like this, this restless energy that just collects and collects, like some transitive stage the way it feels like half your mind is still stuck in the airport departure lounge while your feet is itching to run 9000 miles away.

Had a quesadilla today though, t'was good<3
somehow I never feel properly in new york until I had a quesadilla/burrito. Seems more proper, suchlike.

anyway going to sleep now


+tsu waited for you at 10:32 p.m.+


Coughing and achey still, urgh when will this ever end? I really hate being sick. Very energy draining... yesterday I fell asleep at 9.30pm! can you imagine? It was like total knockout D:

Anyway I got most of my errands cleared yesterday which is good. First up; morning went to post office to send off the chocolate chess jsk, then walked to K-town to pick up some nessescities aka. kimchi, eggs and stopped by the bakery for some sponge cake<3 Went home, dropped it off, fixed a quick lunch (soba, egg) and then went to meet Dave at 2pm but he was fantabulously late cos of the SOPA/PIPA protests..... which meant that I was late to meeting Shaan and Yong Lee at the cinema to watch sherlock. Anyway it turned out well, except by then I was coughing my lungs out and it was SO. COLD. OMFG. so instead of walking we subway'ed uptown for dinner - Shaan had fried rice, I had seafood noodle soup and Yong Lee has kimchi-something with rice and it came up to.... 11.95 a person. WINNNNNN~~~<3 Can I declare how much I like ktown? It's near, serves great food and.... bakeries!!!!1111oneoneneone I<3strawberrycaek~~~ I think this year I'll buy myself strawberry matcha chiffon and white roses for my birthday

The meeting with Dave went well which was good, he told me to be 'bolder' in my work and I'm like idk, story of Icarus, be cautious? don't fly too near the sun? but he was pretty nice about it overall, and apparently I have to write an email to him stating my intentions and how I would go about creating a syllabus for myself etc etc paperwork moar paperwork

ok lah, don't really mind

Anyway I'm curled up nice and warm in the apartment, don't feel like going out at all EXCEPT I should pobably go see a doctor and sign in with ISS at the same time. Frankly the furthest I want to walk to is my room to the bathroom and back again :/ dressing up in winter is fun but so much work


+tsu waited for you at 08:15 a.m.+

hello good morning

It's william gibson kinda day.
what a year.

I've been neglecting blogging, which is rather wilful of me but then again..... have you ever felt like that? the sense of fallowing, the earth blanketed with hay and all the soft things asleep inside - from the worms to the weeds, to the colour of the sky - soft dove grey wrapping the sleeping earth, in fallows. Colours of mustard, it tells you that the time is not now, just sleep child.

I've been feeling that, since I came here. Nothing producing, nothing birthing; everywhere, the landscape inside was asleep. I didn't take a single picture, didn't make any meaningful drawings, whatever work I did was pushed out without yurameki - painful and souless, like wearing high heels on a beach.

but today... today I think, maybe, I can feel it a bit more. I think I can finally smell something, in the air - that yes this is the smell of new york, that kernel of understanding of where I am, the place, in me. Maybe it's the fact that new york only truly seems alive in winter, like dreams of snow and ice and fairytale, and lies dead from sunshine in summer. I don't know why but finally things are beginning to make sense; the taste of wind is sharp and bitter and as the nights grow longer and longer the dreams stretch like tracks beneath my feet that I can run forever in

What that I get, this smell of new york - the stink of humanity, the wet rain that smells like cruelty and rubbery exhaust, the slick of pavements glitter with trains roaring beneath; aging monsters with hot gysers of steam, through the cracks and seams like grumpy horrors and wind that tastes like brittle cruelty. Brittle. that's the taste I get the most of. I think. New york is like salt.

maybe that's why I never feel comfortable enough here, I was never one for salt.

Anyway things are moving fast now, and I hope - more will be illuminated soon. You can't force understanding to come faster, so might as well enjoy being ignorant while you can. After all, it is a kind of bliss?


+tsu waited for you at 10:36 p.m.+


skies. flowers. rain. music. blue sky love<3



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