Spicy Bloody Mary Soup at Bakerzin
I always kind of thought Bakerzin was a rather third-rate establishment. I thought this mainly because, well, what kind of clientele are you trying to cater to by naming your restaurant ‘BakerZin’ instead of ‘Baker’s Inn’, which in my view actually soundz (and lookz) better, and on top of that to even need an explanation inside the front page of the menu saying ‘…our restaurant was renamed Bakerzin which is meant to sound like Baker’s In…’ topping it off with a misspelling of ‘Inn’.
Of course they could have just meant that the baker, is in.
Regardless, their food isn’t actually half bad and it actually looks rather nice too.
Life is full of surprises.
That Empty Feeling. Chinese New Year’s Eve.
Can you imagine a Christmas with no family. A winter with no snow. A tree with no brightly wrapped presents underneath and even no tree at all. Can you imagine a Christmas with no tinsel, no angels, no warm sweaters and crackling fire on a cold winter’s night?
Hence must my Chinese New Year also appear. A Sunday with no family, no visiting, no lo hei, no Chinatown, and no ang bao. Though of course, I do know that in some circumstances a lack of visiting can be a good thing (like when you have a dysfunctional family). Lo hei-ing I suppose can hardly be seen as an age old ‘Chinese’ tradition, and to be perfectly honest, Chinatown annoys me on a Tuesday afternoon in June. So really, the only thing I personally miss is my abundant lack of red packets, and even that I feel uncomfortable about because taking money from total strangers just because I am single and younger just seems rather wrong.
Regardless, I must admit that walking alone through the deathly quiet Holland Village when even Crystal Jade was closed and past the empty car park tinged me with a pang of melancholy and silent contemplation as the sounds of families laughing and children playing resonated from the HDB block opposite. Sure, on the face of it, I have hardly a connection with the festival. But on the other hand, solitude on a Christmas day in London would be rather depressing for anyone. Christian or not.
However, having said that, I am grateful for a reunion dinner with ‘fame’ and a good friend (lest he feel forgotten) and all those others who did go out of the way to make me feel loved and not alone (aww…). What surprises me, though, is the number of people who feel in the same detached manner and just go through the motions year to year. But as long as I have a four day weekend. Well. Who’s complaining? Happy New Year.
Open Skies
I have a friend leaving for Japan soon.
When I think of Japan I think of intense neon lights, and rising skyscrapers, I think of that famous junction featured in every movie based in Japan where all the business men and women cross, normally at a high fps. I think of quiet train rides through the suburbs with miles and miles of power lines silhouetted against the setting sun and the crammed houses below. I think of winding roads wrapping themselves round rising hills, and precariously built houses lining the slopes. I think of vintage bicycles, you know the ones with the curved body and in dark green, ringing bells as they cycle past the crowds, and cute little kids in their cute little school uniform grinning in their age of innocence. I think of the sakura in the springtime and couples lazing in the sun.
I may be wrong. Because, after all, I’ve never been there and my impression is based mainly on Miyazaki and Shinobu Yaguchi movies. But oh well. The above photograph just gave me a vague semblance of it. I don’t know why. I think it reminds me of a scene from the movie ‘Swing Girls’ when they dance by the roadside.
In case you’re wondering it’s actually in Serangoon.
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Lakeside MRT
Gently heaving, the constant whirring of this island city. Operating with consistency, simplicity. The rhythm of the tracks, those long white trains passing by without a pause. The blank stares of those at the bus stop, sitting communally in silence on those hard orange seats. The old and their translucent pink carrier bags, the overweight young boy in his neighbourhood school uniform and an oversized backpack. The chattering of teenage girls and their enthusiastic laughter. The lovers, who really ought to get a room, and the girl, skinny as hell. An assortment of uncles talking in a language soon to be forgotten, tanned. A business owner, with twenty mobile phones hanging from his belt shouting as if to a client across the road. The inconsideration. A road side stall selling copies of hard-to-believe-these-sell 8 days and Cleo and an odd assortment of curry puffs and drinks in a dodgy looking refrigerator. The refreshing cold air from a bus’ interior, and then the heat from its exhaust as it roars away.
Ah. The heartlands. Grassroots. PAP and ACS Forever. Auspicium Melioris Aevi.
Apple Banana Mango Crumble
You know how sometimes food just tastes a lot better than it looks? Home cooked food, for example. In this instance, however, I’d just have to say it looked a lot better than it tasted. From the Project Shop Cafe at Paragon. To be honest I can’t remember whether it had banana in it or not, regardless, it was bizarre.
Birthday Celebrations
Don’t get the wrong idea, but I just thought that these two pictures of a friend and her birthday cake were quite nice.
It’s interesting how a conventionally ‘bad’ photograph can actually be a good one and recently it’s just intriguing the extent to which everything can be turned on its head. It’s a rather subjective opinion I suppose, but nevertheless, there are some things that think most people would agree don’t abide by normal rules and composition but yet do look nice. Not that you would necessarily agree, but for the first shot the cake was supposed to be the subject but is overexposed. As a result, your attention is drawn to the second subject which is the birthday girl, but she is out of focus. Yet, somehow it just makes a nice shot.
Or not.
In the end it’s all subject to interpretation of course, but for the moment I’ll just rest with the maybe deluded impression that the first shot is quite nice. If not, the second picture is slightly more conventional and hopefully will bring a more positive reaction. Beauty, like all things, is in the eye of the beholder.
Two Daily Scoops of Lychee Martini
There is always a small amount of pleasure to be taken from ice cream. There are, of course, many different types and flavours of ice cream. From the heavy, double chocolate chip brownie to the light, plain vanilla. In a world that is so full of strife and warfare, of suffering and pain, of melancholic and meaningless behaviour, the presence of a crisp, clean, slightly tangy yet succulently sweet ice cream is a pleasure to behold. Such simplicity, such purity, such enjoyment. This ice cream does not feel like over indulgence, indeed, it does not taint the mouth with an unbecoming aftertaste, not like the Teh Tarik from Island Creamerie. And lo, it does not become too sweet and heavy like the Haagan Daaz Belgian Chocolate. Nay, it does not become boring and messy like Ben’s Phish Food and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. Indeed, the flavour I speak of is of heavenly descent. Lo, behold the Lychee Martini. From the Daily Scoop.
Holland Village - Fishy
About a year or two ago I bought a Canon Powershot A85. It was in the aftermath of the pillage of my Canon Ixus v3 and perhaps I was not thinking quite straight, but nevertheless I still bought it. A rather ugly beast, yet still very practical. It was supposed to be an upgrade from the v3, and in essence it was. It took better shots, with manual focus and aperture and shutter speed controls. Yet, for some reason, the joy of using the camera dissipated gradually as I used it.
The interesting thing I find about photography, and probably with most things, is if you don’t enjoy using the tools at hand, chances are you’ll lose interest pretty fast. Call it superficial nonsense but welcome to the land of commercial hedonism. Regardless, lack of interest led to lack of care and finally to a shutter button that failed to operate properly.
Somewhere in between all this, I actually bought a couple of lenses for the Powershot. Another advantage it supposedly had over the Ixus. Inevitably though, use was sparse. However, all was not lost, because as you can see, the use of a wide angle lens with new Ixus 800 produces some rather charming effects. In case you’re wondering, I actually hold the lens with my left hand while take the Ixus in my right. Crude, rather bizarre looking… but hey. You get used to the odd stares which you forget when you see the results.
Singapore: Cross-processed par moi.
The Lomo is a beautiful camera because essentially, it’s pretty crap. It over exposes the film, the photos themselves capture the side of the lens frame, and generally, well, it just kinda sucks, a poor imitation of a mid 20th century Japanese camera. But yet, it is not despite these characteristics, but in spite of these characteristics that the images it produces are but retrofyingly wonderful. Together with a touch of cross-processing. Maybe that’s how God views us. As retrofyingly wonderful. Because it’s in spite of us, that He loves us. He likes to Lomo us! Nice.
(uh, don’t quote me on that I realise it’s theologically unsound…)
If you didn’t know better, it could be a warm Sunday autumn afternoon.
You and I said
theroo, happyjz
theroo, jb, theroo, bao, jo
theroo, happyjz, theroo, happyjz, theroo, jo
theroo, , , theroo, giraffe
jo
theroo, Ber, Ber