more martha

Look what I just found! More behind-the-scene photos from Martha's studio. I think I want to reupholster my mannequin Jaime.

heaven is...

Martha's prop room. Swoon!

le sigh

Two sites I pounce on whenever I see that they have new updates on Bloglines. Love them because they reveal a side which we seldom see.



Le Love, with pictures of love that you can never take yourself (unless you have your own in-house photographer).




PostSecret, with the deepest, darkest and sometimes funniest secrets.

two minutes happiness

I'm quite overwhelmed. My very first (inexpertly) cross-processed photo was selected as the daily click on Shutter Sister, a lovely, thoughtful site for women photographers.

where are you now?

Despite my oft-mentioned super hero ability of sleeping on airplanes, I didn't catch many winks during the red-eye flight to Osaka. I blearily tried to get my bearings at Shitennoji Temple, the first stop on our mega-packed itinerary and the oldest temple in Japan, and attempted a few weak photos. This was the only half decent one.

My travel companion and friend, photographer R, had tagged along not for the meagre per photo pay but because he had never been to Japan before.



I struggled out of my sneakers to change into slippers to climb up the pagoda. I struggled up what felt like 200 flights of steps. I struggled not to trip and fall on my way down.

As we wandered listlessly around the temple grounds, deserted except for a gaggle of Korean high schoolers, R turned to me and asked: "Where are you now?"

Bewildered and not a little sleep-deprived, I stared blankly at him while trying to come up with some deep philosophical answer, preferably with some Zen element to suit the raked sands we were contemplating.

"Ohhh-saaaa-kah!" he said with wide-eyed wonder.



Exhausted from greedily sucking in all the unfamiliar sights and sounds, R fell asleep on the subway. I followed suit not long after. (You can't see his palm, on which he had written "arigato" to remind himself not to thank people with "okinawa". Which he did at least once, to be met with very polite Japanese giggles.)



We were there to do a (near impossible) story about the Top 10 shopping spots with only two full days to cover all the places. In addition, we were to do "woman in the street" fashion shoots. We also had to grapple with inflexible stores which, strangely enough, did not want to be featured or told us we needed to apply for permission and come back never. No wonder I fell asleep on my feet.



Genpachi Mittera-ten, a hole-in-the-wall yakitori joint which only sits 12. Possibly the best food experience I've ever had in Japan, easily beating the exorbitant kaiseiki meal with interminable number of courses I once was subjected to.

Sizzling yakitori on a smokey charcoal grill, chilled plum sake, chain-smoking owner behind the bar, tipsy old men, elbow to elbow, great company. In between filling our stomachs with assorted chicken parts and squid, we asked each other, giddily: "Where are you now?" "Osaka!"



The outfit of Glico man cracks me up. The champion pose too. Where are you right now? (Yes, it never gets old, does it?)



Day Two of the whirlwind trip, in which we spent eight hours underground and didn't see sunlight or breathe fresh air. After getting thoroughly lost in four inter-connected labyrinth-like underground malls, we emerged like moles after hibernation (do they hibernate?) to find that it was already dark at 5pm.



I've always been fascinated by these standing bars full of baggy-suited salarymen slurping noodles or guzzling a mid-day beer, but felt that I would draw too much attention if I tried to go into one of these boys' clubs.



All too soon, we were at the end of the second and last night. A tree-lined avenue next to a small stream, in spring it is covered with cherry blossoms, in winter with fairy lights that cycle the spectrum of the rainbow in time to music. Much more magical than I can capture with my lousy night photography skills. You really have to be there. (Orchard Road with its silly candy hanging from trees looks like a garish teenager in a cheap dress in comparison.)

The next morning, as we stood in line at the airport to check in for our flight home, as sleep deprived as when we arrived, R asked: "Where are you now?" "Osaka!"

"Bye, Osaka!"

wish list, revisited

Possibly the first Polaroid ever taken of me, circa 1979. Note the thumb in the bottom right corner which means it is 100% authentic.



First instant photo I shot with my new camera (see wish list).



One of my faves -- ferris wheel on my last day in Osaka.

The colours are a bit washed out, the success rate is at best 50% (I couldn't be bothered to scan in the duds) and, at about $1 a pop, not exactly cheap, but I heart my shiny new camera, even though I had to buy it off the wish list myself.

(But hint hint: My birthday is dangerously close, so that wish list may just come in useful after all!)

work in progress

Sorry, my dear loyal readers (yes, all three of you). I simply cannot stand my blog template any longer. I'm still tweaking though, so here's the bare bones version for now.

I detest the current header banner, but that will have to wait until I shoot a better photo that can be cropped into a skinny horizontal image.

the story of the jumper

Last Friday, Mousey, Mel and I went to the spa, followed by indulgent lunch at Sun With Moon, followed by obligatory shopping at Wheelock Place.

Mousey and I tried on a jumper at Bysi, which was priced at $99. We both loved it and, what was more, there was a 20% discount if we spent over $100 using a credit card from a certain bank.

However, we had gotten wind of a top secret sale at the studio of one of our favourite local designers, whose prices were usually prohibitive, but now supposedly as low as $10 (bluff one, we later realised).

Rationalising that we were going to splurge at the studio sale, Mousey convinced me to not buy the jumpers and to head to the sale at ulu Geylang instead.

A $11 cab ride later, we were in a grey flatted factory, flipping through four pathetic racks of clothes. Despite our best efforts, we could not find anything to buy. And believe me, we really tried.

"I think we have to go back to Bysi," Mousey whispered.

We figured the nearest one would be at Bugis -- thank god for its proliferation all over the island -- and headed there by train.

When we got there, we found that there were only three pieces left, and two were badly damaged, with snags and holes. It was a no go. We couldn't even buy just the good piece, as it was $1 below the required $100.

Dispirited, we trudged over to MOF -- Ministry of Food: kok name, extensive Japanese menu, not bad food -- for green tea and dessert.

After refueling, we decided to give those darn jumpers one last shot. (See, we really liked them and they were very extremely flattering and comfortable.) According to the Ah Lian at Bysi, there were two last pieces at Citylink Mall, and they would pass Mousey's eagle-eye test. (Me, I have sparrow eyes and can only spot glaring defects.)

Finally -- stay with me, there is a good ending to this long tale, I believe the cheem word to use is denouement -- at the last shop of the day, we found two not-that-badly-damaged jumpers. And they were at 40% off, just for that outlet and that day only. Clearly, those jumpers were meant to be.

(There is a moral to this story, but I'm not quite sure what it is.)

all i want for christmas

Brown boots, because I hate cold feet. They don't even need to be exactly this pair, Santa, because I know these aren't cheap and the economy is going down the toilet, even at the North Pole.


Pink Converse, because my white ones aren't girly enough.


ABC3D pop-up book, because the video completely charmed me.


Camera strap, from etsy, because the one which says "Minolta" just ain't cool.


A Year Of Mornings, because it is a beautiful book of photos I wish I had taken for a project I wished I had been a part of.


Fujifilm Instax Mini 7S, because I've always wanted an instant camera. Preferably with a year's supply of film, too.


iPhone, because, well, need I say more?


Origins Ginger Up Aromatic Shampoo and Conditioner, because I'm too cheap to buy my own shampoo.

not my cake, in case you were wondering

Ms Tay sent me the above photo, which coincidentally is from my current fave blog, Cake Wrecks.

create a new event

Now, why didn't I think of that?

From Ibraheem Youssef, via swissmiss.

on the shelf

Technically, not a bookshelf, I know, but I took this photo of the day in the office library, so it sort of counts, right?

Have you ever fallen for someone's... bookshelf? has a super cute tale about two book lovers who fell in love via a bookshelf.

I'll admit to poking around some guy's virtual bookshelf in FaceBook, crammed with Philip Roth, Anthony Burgess, VS Naipaul and lots and lots of Hemingway. Impressive, yes, but I also knew then that it was not meant to be (not that there was anything to be in the first place).

Having said that (hahaha, private joke at the expense of my student), finding a man who is literate is not an easy task, let alone one who is a voracious reader.

Not too surprisingly, the books on my (physical) shelf which garnered the most male interest have to be my musty yellowed copies of Lord of the Rings from prehistoric times (ie. before the movies were even a germ of an idea in Peter Jackson's head).

Much as I love to read, I'm unlikely to swoon over a guy's bookshelves, even if there is an entire section devoted to Murakami. Now, a cool photostream on the other hand, that is worth a thousand words.

82nd ave

This polaroid and this story by girlhula made my day.

better than shit

I think I busted a gut trying not to laugh out loud while watching these at work. It's like a game of Taboo, but using English to describe Chinese words. I know, it's very bad to laugh at people's poor language skills, but I can't help it.

mad hatter

On a trip to Ikea a couple of days ago, ostensibly to buy a photo frame but actually to eat the best chicken wings in the world, we found these felt hats, $9.90 each, in the kids' department.

The flower one was suitably potty, while the fruit one was clearly a basket case. But my favourite was the birthday cake with the candles and strawberries. I felt so happy my head could fit into it. What does this say about my mental age, though?

camera gear porn

There is actually a (mostly sad) story behind this standard photo of camera gear porn which you see so often on Flickr.

My dad's friend so generously gave me his entire old skool collection -- because he has stage IV cancer. I'm very very touched by his gesture.

Even though it hasn't been cheap, I have sent the Minolta and the 58mm lens for servicing (at the Camera Hospital -- yes, that's the shop name, and the "doctor" is a very helpful man), so I can shoot something nice to give to him.

Guess I'll be shooting film from now on (even though I've never owned a SLR, digital or otherwise, in my life and only have a vague idea which lens is good).

P.S. The Cosina Hi-Lite in the middle is actually my own, a cheap thrift-store find while in Vienna. It actually works!

Day 143 of Project 365

what i look at when pretending to work

People who are so dedicated to their Project 365 put me to shame. Tiagoribeiro popped a hell lot of popcorn, got two friends to get nekkid and then took his photo of the day.


I'm so in awe of the creativity of the photographer behind Type The Sky. I never saw the negative spaces between buildings as letters before this. Brilliant!


There's a whole bunch of people doing this transparent screen thing, which makes me think, "So clever!", followed by "How difficult can it be? I also can do!" Watch me eat my words.

cuckoo

My sis the Hello Kitty fan very kindly loaned me her handphone charm -- currently not in use -- after my beloved squishy Doraemon one broke.


When you press the "chimney", a cuckoo bird pops out from the clock. I was instructed not to press it more than once a day, "wait it spoil".

During lunch today, I was idly playing with it when I realised it was stuck. No action whatsoever no matter how hard I depressed the little chimney. Die lah, I make spoil.

In a panic -- my sis was gonna eviscerate me -- I blurted out: "My cuckoo won't come out anymore!"

Luckily, I'm not a guy. But that didn't stop my lunch kakis from laughing for a good five minutes.

just an illusion

"I could go back and google how the trick was done. But I won't. Let it remain as magic"
-- R in the car at the end of the night

Saturday night. It was K's 47th birthday dinner-cum-drinks. (Has it been one year already?)

We stuffed ourselves silly at Beng Hiang Restaurant. I secretly thought that two suckling pigs were a tad excessive (for 12 carnivores, 1 vegetarian and 1 baby). I was wrong. We crunched every last piece of crispy skin and fat. To my horror, I later realised the suckling pig cost $180. Each.

After six raucous rounds of bilingual Happy Birthday songs -- the restaurant is popular for such celebratory events -- we adjourned to Bar 84 for drinks.

It was exactly how I imagined a jazz bar from one of Haruki Murakami's novels would be like -- tucked away from those not in the know with misleading signage to add to the confusion, understated lighting and decor, nothing too plush, unobtrusive music and waitresses, meticulously prepared mojitos which took 20 minutes to arrive and were topped with mint leaves sprinkled with icing sugar to look like freshly fallen snow. The fact that it was owned by a Japanese man who also performed magic tricks might have had something to do with it.

There were the run-of-the-mill sleight-of-hand tricks, which felt slightly old-fashioned compared to the likes of David Blaine and Criss Angel, but I liked them precisely because they were classics. Coins mysteriously appearing and disappearing. Rubber bands that stretched alarmingly then passed right through each other. And many many "pick a card, any card" type of tricks.

For the grand finale, three of us -- J, K and I -- each picked a card. We were instructed, in charmingly broken and slyly flirtatious English, to write various personal details on the card, mine being my name, the date and my (incomplete) address.

J's card disappeared from the deck and reappeared in a wooden box, folded into a little rectangle. Mine was found in the magician's wallet in a sealed Japanese red packet.

But the most amazing one was K's. He was instructed to pick one lemon out of three from the bar fridge, then cut it open with a knife. No prizes for guessing what was found, rolled up and marinated in lemon juice, inside.

It was one of the oldest tricks in the book, but to me, it was pure magic.

"The magician teaches us that romance lies in an unstable contest of minds that leaves us knowing it’s a trick but not which one it is, and being impressed by the other person’s ability to let the trickery go on."
-- The Real Work, by Adam Gopnik, The New Yorker

free books

This is art? More like a tasteless prank to me.

Free Books by Eric Doeringer (obviously not a book lover) is part of Art In Odd Places, an art project in New York.

From its website:

A box of books labeled "Free Books" is deposited at various 14th Street locations. A seeming act of generosity, the artist has removed the last few pages from each book. The alteration will only become apparent to the reader after he or she has nearly finished the book, converting the cast-off into a statement of art.

In other news, I've been back from my little Austria trip for weeks but am too lazy/busy to write or post anything here.