Monday, May 14, 2007

Goodday: from LJ to Blogspot.

Goodday,

It is heartwarming to be home. Running through old entries of 2005 got me thinking about how much I have aged the past two years. From happy & bronzed undergrad to jaded working adult. And after all those futile attempts trying to blog on LJ in China, I am coming home to blogspot to chronicle my life.

While entries in livejournal dating from November 06 to present have been about my lowest points in life, new entries in blogspot might just be my turning point. Especially after Tokyo this May.

D.

testdrive - tokyo preview

Nishi-Shinjuku, as seen from Hilton Hoteru

Aoki's fab desserts, from Isetan Shinjuku's depachika

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Latest Developments this side of East Asia




Monday, October 17, 2005

Livejournal

I have jumped ship. Read me at http://www.livejournal.com/users/drinkmojito/

Ciao!
D.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Word Processing Machine

OK, i'm finally done with my 3 stories for Vmag/November. One on the Cannery at Clarke Quay, another on Facials for Men and yet other on celebrity-turned-fashion designer transformation in Excuse Me, Are you a Fashion Designer? Think I emerged more well-informed about the urban transformation that's about to change the face of Clarke Quay, thanks to British practice, Alsop Architects' aesthetic vision. With MOS, Cafe del Mar, Fashion TV/Cafe, Bice and a nail bar, even our ex-governor/imperialist/colonialist/Orientalist Andrew Clarke from the days of pre-independence Singapore would give an approving nod to our Noughties-style indulgence.

And on the topic of pseudo fashion designers, Gwen Stefani and Milla Jovovich seem most promising--with talent, connections, and commitment to keep them in for the long haul. Beyoncé, Paris Hilton and J Lo are neither getting the thumbs up from me nor Suzy Menkes unfortunately.

Facials for men? Metrosexuality, as a construct reified from thin air, has totally redefined a male's quotidienne consumption of fashion and beauty, de-linking fashion/beauty and femininity. Today, it's possible to keep to a facial regime (exfoliation, toning etc) without appearing gay. And the way to size up a man at a job interview isn't restricted to just his academic and professional qualifications either. He has to show sartorial flair and grooming capability to qualify for a job. Oh don't the marketing people know how to make money. As you read this, essentialist pyschologists are probably busy sketching out the brain of a metrosexual. How futile and stupid is that?


My long overdue cheque has arrived. Gives a whole new meaning to nouveau riche all of a sudden. It's about time i indulge myself. Do I have time for Tokyo from the time my exams end till i leave for Shanghai?

This morning, i finally received a call from Tatler. We are meeting 0930h le Vendredi to have a chat and see how we can work things out. Perfect.

On another note, i have yet to find a magazine to pitch my KLAFW stories to. Is anyone keen on featuring the KL Six? I tell you, it's an Antwerp Six-collective waiting to happen.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Huiling 新上海人

Nursing our alltimefavourite mojitos at New Asia Bar, Swissôtel Singapore.

Huiling and I at Space @ Humble House

Stark space at Space @ Humble House

Gongbao Beef Noodles

Duck Cigar Rolls

Huiling’s back. This hyeow girl’s been in Shanghai for barely 3 months now she’s back! I wonder if it’s because she misses home and finds Shanghai alienating. Surprisingly no! She’s singing to a different tune now, “Singapore’s so boring, there’s a lot more happening in Shanghai”. I’m thrilled to hear that. After all, she’s got another 8 more months to spend in Shanghai.

It’s China’s week-long 双十假日 holiday and seeing that she’s got miles on Northwest that she could put to good use, she’s decided to make a trip home to see her family and friends. Fabulous to have her back.

I brought her to Space@HumbleHouse for dinner and also to 洗尘, an express version of My Humble House. You could think of it as Nobu Next Door if you like, fast, no frills, no reservations policy. Except that Humble House doesn’t have its tables full like Nobu does, which merits little need for a duh-worthy establishment like Space.

With so much conversation re. Shanghai in store, there was little room for the food we ordered: duck cigar rolls, crab nuggets, rice noodles slices of fish, and 宫保 gong bao beef noodles. All excellent—even the beef noodles turned out to be quite a surprise (lovely without being cloying—think an oversupply of 宫保鸡丁 after time spent in Beijing) , as we initially ordered it with much hesitation, worried that Huiling might have OD-ed on 宫保–this –that while subsisting on 外卖晚餐 during those nights when she chooses to stay in.

We went back to our (fairly) regular haunt, New Asia Bar, to have more mojitos and lychee bellinis before calling it a night. And even as I am writing this, I’ve finally got my act together to redeem my miles on SQ! I leave for Shanghai on 9th December and return on 5th January. Does anyone care to join me?

je l'aime

grande histoire: grand, plus grand, le plus grand

il fait froid à la nuit. c'est pas le temps mais juste une sentiment. après d'avoir fait connaissance avec qqn, je peux pas oublier. une situation comme torture, mais sans blessure, juste instabilité émotionelle et mentale. xx s'appelle... xx. me donne une force véritable. qu'est-ce que je dois faire? faire du jogging, faire de la natation, boire de vin, immerser à travailler? n'importe quoi pour lxx oublier.

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Bonding Over Food

College pals: Yunsheng, Viv, D.

Food is so central to our lives in Singapore that bonding invariably takes place over food. Over the past two weeks, I caught up with various friends while busying myself over Macanese baked pork chop rice and Peking duck rolls.

With college pals, Vivien and Yunsheng, we did Macanese at Crystal Jade’s latest venture into Macanese 察餐厅 fare. For a country with a population with just 300, 000 digits (yes 300K, you read that right), they already have a discernible cuisine which can be readily exported to other parts of the world. Michelle Reis, if you can think of her as food of another kind, is in movies and the celeb circuit by way of Hong Kong. What about Singapore, with a population of 4 million—and counting—and an established Singaporean cuisine in (and only in) Singapore? We could start exporting bak chor mee and hainanese curry rice already.

Goodwood Park Hotel on a rainy Tuesday. Kevin and I piled on the gossip mongering while indulging in old school high tea nyonya-style. High tea’s not my thing—I love variety and quantity but I have no room to pile on the inches, though I remember my first and last high tea experience very fondly. It was 1991, I was only 10, and I had laksa at the dull brasserie of the then-Hyatt Regency. Fastforward to 2005. Since it was Kevin’s belated birthday treat, I was more than happy to say yes, never mind the potential calories.

With little in the way of resistance, I soon piled on the laksa, chicken curry, kueh pie tee, bread dumplings and wings. It’s amazing how in Singapore, you still can spot CatherineLim cheongsam-wearing types doing afternoon high tea. Looks like Emily of Emerald Hill exists not only in Stella Kon’s literary work but still remains an empirical reality out there.

At Hour Glass’ party/Jubilee Hall on Friday, Jeffrey and I found overselves more occupied with conversations, Peking duck rolls, cocoa spare ribs and the bubbly rather than the event per se. Carl F. Bucherer awards, so named after the Swiss timepiece, was made all the more theatrical and fictitious with a host like Beatrice Chia. The winners went to the folks who took the path less treaded—Kit Chan, Loh Lik Ping, Tina Tan-Leo & Lionel Leo. Would you take the awards seriously? One could argue that in recruiting a theatre personality like Chia (whose reminder, ‘please switch your mobile phones to the silent mode’ reminds one of being in a theatre pre-performance), it is symbolic of an allusion to theatrics, drama—pure fiction and orchestration. But who would care to debate the politics of such representation when, at the end of the event, a bar of Möet-ful flutes and an ensemble of jazz players await?