Archive for January, 2007


January 23, 2007

pict1004.JPG Lunch at Thai Express today with Amogh was a riot. Some friends you don’t see in months and yet you still talk to them like no time has passed – Amogh’s one of them. As I grow older I realise that some people will always be part of your lives. I think Amogh’s one of them. He’s been with me through thick (him in sec 3) and thin (me in J1). He was there when slowly but surely outed myself to everyone. And he’s never really given a shit about what others think of me – he’s just always been there. In a very unhealthy “i’m straight and very bad with emotions” way.

Today he revealed something that has been weighing heavily on his mind – that he wouldn’t be able to find a hot eligible Brahmin girl. Ok all you Brahminahs out there – you want him, you got him. Tell me and I’ll get back to you. Heh. My advice was to marry a Chinese, so he’d have hot Chindian children. But he would have none of it, for fear of parental retribution. Alas, the woes of the caste system! And I thought being gay and Chinese was bad.


French Fried

January 21, 2007

So. 8 years of French and I can barely stumble out a coherent sentence now. How embarassing. La mort? Le mort? Only I could have made such a stupid faux pas. FAUX FUCKING PAS.

Word of the day? Olivier. Olive wood. Or an olive tree. Adorable.



January 20, 2007

pict0981.JPG Well, this is why I love my job: look at what came in the mail today! A review copy of Kylie’s Showgirl concert recording. We loves. And what a great CD it is! Kylie has never sounded better. Her vocals are absolutely stunning – especially on the exuberant “Spinning Around”. To think she’s just recovered from breast cancer. Have I mentioned that we loves?

Friday was a crazy day. I was busy recovering from Thursday night’s preview or Little Children, which was a tough cookie to chew on. It reminded me a lot of Babel, but better. Though both films touched on how convergent lives can affect each other through coincidence – a light brush here, a slight crush there – Babel‘s problematic pacing paled in comparison to Little Children‘s dry ironic wit. I’m probably going to do a comparative review to kill two birds with one stone. Oh and btw – Patrick Wilson is. So. Hawt.

Friday evening I interviewed Addie, owner of Taboo. A real dear if there ever was one. I wish I had his zen-buddhist life-philosophy. Then I rushed down to the Pump Room (at Clarke Quay) for a party in aid of AfA. There I got into a bit of a kerfuffle with the staff. I tried to bring Jinesh in, and she was so incrediby uppity and snooty about it: “How many people you wanna bring in? This is 40 bucks a head you know? And you get to drink wine and have food.” I gave her a piece of my mind. It was not pretty. But I was. Then we rushed down to Cafe del Mar’s opening, and I was shocked at how many white people there are in Asian Singapore. Yum.

pict0996.JPGWell I’m exhausted from the weekend’s proceedings. I leave you with a picture of the adorable Tim. Who is as usual eating. We went to Max Brenner’s. I had a rather delish crepes suzette.Perhaps he is grimacing because of the loss of his beloved Zul. Perhaps he is grimacing because the chocolate has given him a heart attack. We shall never know. Here is Tim, with Belgian waffle:


January 7, 2007

There’s something about Ciara’s “Promise” that really gets me going. I’ve listened to it like 47 times in a row and it’s still going on repeat. I can hear Prince (when he was good) and Janet Jackson (when she was sane). There’s something distinctly gorgeous about the direction in which she’s taking her crunk. The slightly dissonant harmonies hypnotise. It’s a really strange lovesong – you don’t really get a sense of the beloved at all – perhaps there isn’t even one. But Ciara dominates and takes over the song with her sultry declarations of love. Maybe that’s why I love it so much – like all good lovesongs it really is an exercise in self-aggrandization.