lower temperature

The fever has abated. I've finally loaded a handful of non-Jay songs onto my phone's mp3 player.

Because of that, I have nothing much to say. So let's warm up some leftovers to rehash the highs from his previous gigs.

This was what I wrote after his first concert in 2002, when I grudgingly covered the show at the expense of a precious Saturday night off:

MUMBLING is a talent.

Sure, anyone can mumble, but no one can do it as pleasurably as the multi-talented Jay Chou.

Half of his lyrics were barely intelligible at his first concert here on Sunday, but of course none in the appreciative audience minded.

Because that is precisely the appeal of this wunderkind of Mandarin R&B, who composes and produces almost all his songs - in addition to mumbling through them.

Nursing a slight flu and a dry cough, the 24-year-old Taiwanese singing sensation displayed his musical talents on the piano and the cello, with songs such as Quiet and Pa, I'm Back from his recent second album, Fantasy.

The theatrically-produced concert - which started with a haunted-house sequence complete with eight masked and hooded dancers - also showcased talents of the non-musical variety.

While performing the Japanese-inspired numbers Nanchaku and Ninja, he displayed his boyish hero worship of Bruce Lee and wielded a mean nunchaku, a weapon made up of two sticks joined with a chain.

Probably not that different from boys his age in his love for shooting hoops, he wove a nifty basketball sequence into Bull Fight, which climaxed with him lobbing autographed balls into the eager audience.

Packed to the roof and up on their feet by the third song, the 9,000-strong audience - which included his divorcee mother - was almost entirely made up of teenagers and 20somethings, with some of the male fans even dressing like their idol, with red baseball caps and B-boy street style.

While the guys dug his rapid raps and chants, the girls swooned over ballads such as Tornado, Adorable Woman, Simple Love and Can't Say It, all delivered with strained sincerity in the R&B style which shot him to fame two years ago.

Mid-way through the short two-hour concert, his mentor, Jacky Wu, made an unscheduled guest appearance.

A household name in Taiwan for being host of a number of top-rated variety shows, Wu is also the managing director of Alfa Music, which discovered Chou.

The glib host more than made up for the bashful Chou's lack of words, prattling on and on about how much he loved Singapore, that the applause was always the loudest here and he hoped to hold a concert here, too.

The main act of the night might not be a smooth talker like his mentor, but he showed his appreciation to the audience in his own earnest way, such as when he muddled and mumbled his way through an impromptu Song For Singapore during his encore.

Who needs to hear the words when sincerity can speak volumes?


This was what I blogged after my second encounter with him in concert in 2004:

Just got back from what must be the best concert of my life -- Jay Chou! Shuai dai le!

I would gladly have paid three times the $128 I spent on tickets -- and this is a lot coming from someone who is so spoilt and used to getting free tickets.

But that is part of the joy of the concert, that it has absolutely nothing to do with work. No need to take note of crowd behaviour, celebrities in the audience, number of empty seats, run-down of songs, encore or not, etc etc...

Instead, it was pure unadulterated idol worship. Heck, even Sly was in the audience! But he was but a mere blip on the radar compared to the meteor that hit when Jay took over the stage.

[Full-blown teenage groupie mode ON]

Swoon. Scream. Melt. Swoon again. Especially when he played the piano. And the flute. And the drums. [Not all at the same time of course!] But he looked so good no matter what he was singing or doing. Or as TPL put it: "Even the way he walks!"

At intermittent intervals, we'd be turning to each other and sighing: "Shuai dai le", "He's soooo coooool!", "He's so talented!" and "I lurve this song!"

Trying to think which is my favourite part is very tough... I would have to say the whole three hours! We wailed when it was over... I think we melted and left a puddle on the floor too.

Am now listening to the Jay Chou for Dummies compilation I made for the girls as a primer for the concert... still swooning away...


And finally, I started a Facebook support group after this year's long-awaited concert:

- Are you unable to eat and sleep?
- When you close your eyes, do you see Jay playing the piano, possibly a transparent one?
- Are you no longer functioning as a responsible part of the work force and instead just look at concert photos and make squealing sounds at your desk?
- Are you thrilled to find out that he ate steamed fish and veggie for his birthday supper at 3am?
- Do you have curious urges to rewatch Initial D (the driving with elbow propped on the window scene) and Secret (the piano battle scene)?
- Have you swooned over the music video of 我不配 and imagined you are his secret lover?
- Do you have all his songs on repeat mode and think they are fantastic, even 阳光宅男?
- Are you frantically trawling YouTube for snippets of interviews with him?
- Have you attended a Jay Chou concert recently?

If you have answered "yes" to all of the above, you have a bad case of Post Jay Concert Disorder. It is not unlike Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, except much more pleasurable.

Fortunately, there is no cure. I speak from personal experience of attending three such concerts. You can only alleviate the symptoms by indulging in more music, more photos, more videos, more movies.


Footnote: The support group for Post Jay Concert Disorder sufferers has stagnated at 79 members.

the belated birthday cake

So happy with the cake that my lurve baked. In fact, I kinda liked that it was two months belated because it felt like I was celebrating my birthday again in some small way. And check out those buttons!

P.S. I predict that someone has a promising career ahead as a baker. The cake was super yummy and chocolatey and moist. Mmm...

yellow

Would love to take more photos, but having a desk job kinda makes it difficult, unless I enjoy shooting pix of computers, photocopiers and office drones.

Still testing out foreign concepts such as aperture, shutter speed and exposure on various subjects like my sleeping dog and the flowering bush in my garden.

keming

Subs' private joke: "Long live sk2!"

the wu man

夏夜晚风
夏夜里的晚风
吹拂着你在我怀中
你的秀发蓬松
缠绕着我随风摆动
月亮挂在星空
牵绊着你诉情哀
有你味道的风
就是我还在等待的爱
一个夏夜晚风的爱
一颗寂寞的心的爱
一个还在等待的爱
不知道怎么搞的
最近老是做这个梦
可能是我痴情
或者是我太笨
总之梦很美你也很美
只是我还在等
灯火闪着余波
随着你的呼吸移动
你说你想入梦
我的臂窝有你的梦
将你轻轻捧起
让你在我耳边细语
夏夜的风有你
就是我还在等待的爱

This song is currently transporting me back in time. (Thanks, WW, for picking it to sing last night.) Ah, gan xing ah...

Quick question: Do you see some mysterious question marks in the lyrics? My MacBook is so screwed up these days.

Another quick question: Does anyone have Cai Lizhang's Feng Le? And Xu Nansheng's Ye De Xuan Yun? Nostalgia strikes and I need some xinyao.

i love heung gong again

Someone asked me, after the trip, "Wah, Four Seasons ah! How was it?" My blase reply, "Okay lor." Even a room with a gorgeous view of the harbour, bathroom with scrumptious L'Occitane toiletries and long bath with mini TV cannot match up to the Bvlgari resort. I'm ruined for life. (Take note of the squat white rectangle building almost right smack in the middle of the photo.)


Before.


After.


The luxury brand which shall not be named -- no need to give it more publicity, it's already very well known -- wined and dined us. Even the napkins and plates were emblazoned with its name and monogram.


By the end of the four-course dinner, the poor goldfish in the flower arrangement were gasping for breath at water's the surface.


We had to take part in a luxury version of The Amazing Race. One leg of it saw us sailing on a reproduction of an antique Chinese junk while sipping cocktails and having foot massages. By the way, the winning team of 10 journos from Taiwan walked away with a huge monogram bag each (estimated eBay value at over S$5,000).


We also had to go to a temple -- the name eludes me, Mo Wan or something, we cheated and eavesdropped on another team to get there -- where an ang moh woman demonstrated the art of breaking spears with her neck, like some Shaolin monk. Very incongruous.


The last stop of the race was a private champagne room where we guzzled Krug. We were supposed to taste how well it went with foie gras and caviar and Alaskan crab, but frankly, I was too hungry by then to appreciate the nuances. Although I did notice that the light fixture was made up of bowls and plates.


Four days in Hong Kong and the only local food I had was wanton noodles. And we had to sneak off from the launch party -- with its free flow of champagne and non-filling canapes -- to get to Tsui Wah for it.


What I was in Hong Kong for. Obligatory shot of the newly-opened store.


The store is so humongous -- biggest in Asia wor, second only to the one in Paris -- that it has its own art gallery. Yes, that's Gong Li, as shot by Chow Yun Fat, as shot by me.


For the entire trip, I kept seeing this pixie-like China journo with adorable hairbands and various cute outfits. Finally, I plucked up the courage to ask for a pix of her hair. Wonder if I can carry it off. Oh, and notice that giraffe-like model in the background? She's from Slovakia and she had just turned 15 the week before. She looks double her age.


Remember that white rectangle? It's this mammoth tent built like a trunk for the gala party.


Sorry, my lurve, this is the best pix I could manage of your hero Kanye West. In my defence, I was balancing on a wobbly stool at the end of the tent in three-inch heels with Dick Lee and boyfriend jostling behind me on the same stool.


One last gratuitous shot. For more shameless shots of me and my various outfits, check out the Swirl Girls blog.

i love heung gong

I've been telling everyone, but in case you haven't been informed: The Swirl Girls have set up a fashion blog.

It is full of silly poses -- mostly by me -- and behind-the-scenes action of running a shop and preparing for new designs. We also have a fashion diary series, where we post what we wear daily.

There are also a detailed posts about our trip to Heung Gong, which should keep you occupied while I fly off to Heung Gong again. I will endeavour not to miss my flight this time round.

fringe benefits

Armed with a large A3 size colour print out of Katie Holmes (and stunted-looking Tom Cruise that I was too lazy to crop out) and determination to cut my fringe, I went to visit my nazi of a hairdresser.

As usual, he looked pained and insisted that hair poking into my eyes was very nice. But I forged on and insisted on the Katie Holmes blunt-cut bangs. For once, I got my way.

My friend D who happened to have made an appointment to cut her hair after mine, came armed with a similar photo of Mrs Cruise. The nazi looked more pained than ever that she, too wanted, that hair cut. He has a thing about not giving us similar cuts, which explains why he tried to psycho me into growing my fringe.

I'm not sure how he convinced my friend, but she ended up with a cut completely unlike the one in the photo.

Luckily I got there first.

trigger happy

Still trying to get the hang the mind-boggling number of functions on my new toy, but super happy thus far. My compulsive reading of online camera reviews and relentless badgering of my fave photog has paid off.


I love the "food" function, it makes a simple shot of xiaolongbao look good.


Still getting the hang of focusing. Wanted to focus on the spoon, not the chopsticks!


The "face detection" is amazing! And see what being married for more than 30 years does to you? You smile and cross your arms the same way.


My sissy and I look like crap in this photo, courtesy of our dad. He, obviously, hasn't been reading the manual like he needs to sit for an exam.


Of course, the most unwilling and uncooperative subject of my photos has been my doggie. I haven't tried the "pet" function on him yet though.

it's a wrap

Isn't this the most fab wrap? Simple yet clever. It's from Missoni's A/W 08 collection, but I'm pretty sure I can make one myself. Now, when was the last time I said that?

As if I have the time to sew anything, especially now that I've got my hands on the object of my desire. Final decision was the Panasonic Lumix FZ18. Just got it today and been turning its knobs and pushing its buttons all night. Love it! Especially the 18x zoom. Woot! [Pardon the sentence fragments and random subject jumping. Tired. Been busy with things like work and sale and mahjong.]

OK, now to go mark my students' assignments while listening to Jay sing 献世 in heartfelt, if not exactly accurate, Cantonese on repeat mode. Then to start figuring out what to wear for a week of 10 to 15 deg C weather in Hong Kong. But first, to play some more with my non-shiny [I opted for black instead of silver] new toy.

Tell me, when am I gonna find time to haul my sewing machine [poor neglected toy] out and make anything?

beautiful in desolation

Ahhh, these are the kind of depressing and haunting pix I would love to shoot if I ever settle on which camera to get...

I've driven my fave friendly fotog mad with my endless camera questions, including "Why do I need wide angle lens?" and "How come don't have pink cameras ah?"

The two contenders at this point in time -- they keep changing -- are the Canon G9 and Sony H7. Any help in making the decision would be much appreciated.

Photos above from etsy seller Still Memory.

jayday! mayday!

While doing a massive load of laundry -- dating back to pre-CNY days -- last night, I unearthed a "new" striped tee that I had taken from the Swirl Swap Swop last month and finally washed it.

So this morning, regardless of the fact that (a) my throat hurt like mad from excessive rubbish consumption, (b) I only had five hours of interrupted sleep because I couldn't stop watching K-drama Queen of the Game till 4am, and (c) I was late for work and had no chauffeur, I just had to do my own private tribute to Jay. And puke-inducing as it sounds, it made me feel 甜甜的. *joooooom*

I told WW after lunch that my outfit was inspired by him, but she had already figured it out all by herself, clever girl. It was what he had worn when he arrived at the airport on his birthday. She just didn't want to say it while we were lunching with non-Jay fans. We're such persecuted folks!

It's a Jay Day also because dear MS gave me a belated birthday present -- her autographed copy of 七里香! So sweet of her to give me "something Jay has touched".

Oh, and the Mayday in the subject header refers to their concert in April. And we're going! So excitement!

P.S. Ignore the giant pile of worn clothes on the left of the photo, please. But note the big green hand proclaiming my love of Jay on the shelf on the right. Doggie's spotty body in the shot is a bonus.

P.P.S. To make this post less "scary fan stalker" and more "fashiony', I'd say I was also inspired by the fantastic Flickr group, Wardrobe_Remix, where people snap and post pix of clothes they wore that made their day. I can spend hours scrolling through the thousands of outfits. In honour of Wardrobe_Remix (and my sissy, who abhors the long-sleeves-under-short-sleeves look):

Striped top -- Mango
Black knit top -- H&M
Black capris -- Zara
Black pointy patent shoes (not seen) -- URS & Inc
Camera phone -- Nokia 6300

P.P.P.S. Check out the incredibly stylish blogger Style Bytes, who makes the supreme effort to get dressed, put on make up (or is her skin really that gorgeous?), accessorise her outfit and shoot a photo of herself, even when she is supposedly ill. When I am sick, I don't even want visitors, that's how bad I look.

i like hats, especially cowboy ones

A long overdue post. Sorry, my two loyal readers. I've been very busy (just like what a certain singer says on his latest album).

Anyway, so what transpired on the day of the cowboy hat? The obvious answer would be the breathlessly awaited Jay Chou birthday concert!!! (Notice the unprecedented use of three exclamation marks? The sub in me now has this urge to go back and edit out the over-enthusiastic, unjournalistic punctuations.)

More on Jay in another post. He deserves a long long long post, but it will have to wait till my fever abates somewhat. Otherwise, it will consist of "I LOVE YOU, JAY!!!", "SHUAI DAI LE!!!", "DAI WO HUI JIA!!!", a whole lot of exclamation marks and no content.

But back to that fateful Friday of 18 January. It was also the day I put on another hat and became a teacher -- something I never thought I could do because of my phobia of public speaking, as well as fear that I would be leading innocent students astray.


It's been three weeks since I started -- I take two classes every Friday -- and I'm still marvelling at the architecture of the spiffy new Lasalle campus. There are bridges linking various parts of the buildings, called pods (very space age), and the green "grass" you see is actually astro turf (again, very space age). I wish I could be one of those art students who sprawl on the fake green with their iPods plugged into their ears and their sketch books open in front of them.


Classes are held in a cavernous hall, with mannequins lurking at the back. Sorta like Project Runway, especially with those drama queen students I have. Take this conversation I had, for instance:

ME: So why did you choose to write about this Chanel bag?
STUDENT A (I'm very bad with names): Because it's Chanel!
ME: But what's so special about it?
STUDENT B: You don't like Chanel?
ME: Ya, I don't like Chanel.
[Collective gasp of horror from STUDENTS A-Z]
STUDENT C (Flaming gay boy who wears a pashimina shawl): OH MY GOD! You don't like Chanel!
ME: Erm, ya. Please don't burn me at the stake.


Oh and the course I'm teaching is called Fashion Communication. Basically, I teach about writing about fashion for magazines. I would share the horror stories of marking their written work, but I'm still trying to figure out the meaning of a word that appeared in a 100-word assignment about a Yves Saint Laurent bag -- "kuluolan".

in praise of pastes

For dinner, green curry* with brown bread and white wine. Burp. Hic. This is what I do when I'm supposed to be doing actual writing.

* Made from Dancing Chef curry paste. Dancing Chef is very good. My tummy is dancing now -- with joy.

mmmmentaiko

Mentaiko pasta in 15 minutes, thanks to a thoughtful MS and her gift of Japanese sachets of instant seasonings. Neon yellow pickled radish -- takuan, I think? -- as a side dish.


Bland yet salty. Rich yet light. Gone in 10 minutes.

I've loved this since I first had the home-cooked version -- still the best ever -- by the Mum of the family my sis and I were staying with when we backpacked through Japan a millennium ago. I've tried to replicate it once from scratch but it was too rich. Can someone try Chubby Hubby's recipe and let me know if it's any good?

In the meantime, I'm guarding my last three packets most jealously.

just shoot me

Despite the lukewarm reviews and rather hefty price tag, I'm still drooling over the Leica D-LUX 3. I think it's something to do with the retro boxy shape. None of that shiny silver shit.

I'm such a sucker for packaging.

P.S. I can't belive I just spent the last two hours obsessively comparing various dSLRs, prosumer SLRs, compacts and ultra-compacts on CNet.com. The logical choice -- Ha! As if I have spare cash! -- would be the highly-rated Canon PowerShot G9.


Not as pretty as the object of my desire (the pix is pixelated not because I don't love it as much, just some technical difficulties I can't be bothered to troubleshoot), but a good $200 cheaper.

a moving story

If Ikea is the happiest place on earth, then we should just move in there. Oh wait, someone already did.

0204

Dang. I got my "big" and "small" mixed up. Novice 4D gambler mistake.

Double dang. I came close to striking a consolation prize. That's $12 down the drain.

speeling on chanel 5

The guys doing the trailers for Channel 5 must be drunk. The two stars in Mr & Mrs Smith were Angelina Jolie and Bratt Pitt. And the winner of Asian Idol was Hardy Mirza.

0201

First post of 2008.

There I was, getting ready to tuck into my yummy char kway teow with extra hum, when I saw out of the corner of my eye, a white streak going diagonally past my face from right to left.

With half my attention on AC's riveting tale of a spitting deejay and clubbing hijinks, I didn't notice that whatever that airborne thing was had landed on my plate. Luckily, an alert CW pointed it out. On close scrutiny, we realised it was bird poop.

"Ewww...Ewww...Ewww..." I couldn't stop exclaiming, alternating between leaning as far away from the offensive whitish goop as possible and examining it in morbid fascination. "My char kway teowwwwwwwww..."

"Why don't you just push it aside? You can still eat the rest," someone suggested so helpfully. (No one would own up to this later on when I questioned the witnesses.)

"Nooooooooo!" I wailed, to continued chortles from my unsympathetic lunch companions, some of whom were merrily tucking into their unsullied char kway teow.

Using only the barest of finger tips, I carried the plate back to the char kway teow uncle and told him in my best whining voice: "Got bird shit!"

Even the sweaty harassed uncle had to pause in the middle of frying and crack a grin at my predicament. And the auntie very kindly gave me another plate and refused to take my money.

Since bird shit is supposed to be lucky -- not sure why -- I've gone and bought 4D for only the second time in my life. (I won the first and last time I did.)

We'll find out tomorrow if betting $12 was a good idea -- or a bird-brained one.

P.S. Can you spot my good luck charm in the pix?