recent reads

William S Burroughs
Junky
(had been wanting to read The Naked Lunch, which is his most famous book, but a colleague had told me how hard it was to get through, plus the library didn't seem to have a copy, so I picked up this one, Burroughs' first book and supposedly most autobiographical. It's about his life as a junkie and how he goes from addiction to addiction. Good read.)



Joan Didion
Where I Was From
(I have to admit that I didn't finish this. I didn't even really start it. It was just going on too much about California and kinda bored me. I flipped through the rest of it, decided it wasn't worth it. Plus I didn't like the layout - it's one of those narrow books, which to me is always weird.)



Kazuo Ishiguro
Never Let Me Go
(Loved it. Didn't in the beginning. But it grew on me. I like how it's somewhat sci-fi and yet absolutely not. It's more like a book that lived too long next to a sci-fi shelf and took on some tinges of sci-fi. I like that Ishiguro never states the obvious and lets the reader make her own deductions. Great read.)



John Irving
Until I Find You
(The length of this one is rather frightful. But it is John Irving, so it is expected. Equally expected are mentions of wrestling. The thing about Irving is that I somehow just can't stop reading. I have to know what happens in the end, despite having to chug through hundreds of pages to get there. This one reminds me, in particular, of The World According To Garp, the first Irving book I read and adored. But it's a step down from that.)



Rick Moody
Black Veil
(The full title of this is Black Veil: A memoir with digressions. And yeah, plenty of digressions. Moody leads us through his life, one of addiction - yes another book that has something to do with addiction this time - and melancholy. And how he learns that one of his ancestors might have been written about by Nathaniel Hawthorne. This relative was known for wearing a black veil over his face, all the time. It's not so much about the story and the relative, but Moody's relationship to the story and how he sees himself. Complicated.)

on looking back and not looking back

As it has been for the first few years, I've started the new year in a new position but in the same company.

I've taken a step back from the hectic pace of reporting and slithered into this deskbound position as a sub.
This means late nights, probable back problems and worsening eyesight.
But it means I will get my Saturdays off (provided I chope them) and my sanity back.
It also means I will stop whining about work. Which I hated doing but still did anyway.
What else..
It also means never seeing much of my family, who are asleep when I get home and off when I get up - it's almost like living on my own, which is something I have to figure out my finances and work out soon.
It means time before work to run errands, read books and watch the taped shows of the night before.
Yesterday I realised this also means being shocked out of bed at 830 by horns blaring outside my house. And being the one to receive deliveries of various things like a new stove.

I see now how big a mistake I made for staying on. For some reason I wanted to give it six months, when everything inside me was screaming to get out. That's probably one of the stupidest things I've ever done. But what's done is done. And it's left me scarred. Sounds silly to say that about a job. Sounds like I'm talking about a major calamity. But those were the longest six months of my life. I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't managed to get out. And yet I wonder, why was it so? How could I go from happy and excited about work to hating it and despair. How could my colleagues do it?

But no more. No more whining. No more questions about that. No more wondering about what's past.

And now, here in this other job, I am calmer, a little more at ease with work. But it's still not the right fit. I don't want a career in this. I cannot see myself doing this for a year. It's already been six months. It's not something I hate, unlike the previous job. But it's just not what I want.

I keep wondering to myself why I feel so apathetic about the state of things.
It's like I've sunken onto a comfy sofa and can't get up.
I tell myself, I must do something this year, and not just remain stagnant.
But still the question is, what?

I know what I don't want.
I just don't know what I want.

not just the sweet stuff

I made bread!

Let me clarify that, since I'm quite excited about it, I made bread without the help of a bread machine!

We used to have a bread machine and man was that easy - pour stuff in, put your settings and wake up the next day to bread, fresh from the machine. It kneads and bakes and everything.

But I've always wanted to bake bread from scratch and so, one day before work, I started on the, er, starter dough, which needs to rest for 24 hours in the fridge.

Oh but first things first, this recipe for walnut bread was something my dad printed off the cedele website. It's officially spring onion and walnut bread, but I can't stand spring onions so I took them out and put in more walnuts


Makes one 350g loaf

Ingredients
Bread flour 400g
Wholemeal flour 100g
Salt 1 tablespoon
Dry yeast 2 tablespoons
Cold water (chilled overnight in fridge)275ml-285ml
Spring onion, chopped 100g
Chopped walnuts 75g


1. To prepare the day-old dough, start at least 24 hours before the intended day of baking the bread. Mix 100g of the bread flour, 50ml of the cold water, 1 tsp of the dry yeast and 1 tsp salt together in a large plastic mixing bowl, stirring until a firm dough forms. Cover with plastic wrap and let dough slowly ferment in the refrigerator overnight or for at least 24 hours.

2. The next day, mix wholemeal flour and the remaining bread flour, salt and yeast in a large mixing bowl. Make a well in the centre, and slowly pour cold water in, drawing the flour into the puddle with a spoon. Add just enough water to make a soft dough. Stir in the day-old dough, and knead the whole mass for about 10 minutes or until smooth and elastic, and dough does not stick to your hands.

3. Gently knead walnuts into the dough until evenly incorporated. Cover dough with a sheet of plastic or a damp tea-cloth, and leave to rest for 1 to 11 hours in a cool place (ideally at about 23-24 deg C) or until dough has almost doubled in size.

4. Punch down dough, kneading lightly to deflate it completely, then shape into a tight ball and let rest again, covered, another 20 minutes.

5. Shape dough into a 8-inch long rod or baguette. Place shaped dough on a greased tray and cover with a sheet of plastic or a damp towel. Rest loaf for another 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until it has almost doubled in size. In the meantime, pre-heat oven to 230 degrees C / 425 degrees F.

6. With a very sharp knife, quickly and gently slash a lengthwise shallow cut down the middle of the loaf. Sprinkle a little flour over the loaf and bake for 25-30 minutes. The bread is done when it sounds hollow when overturned and tapped on its bottom.

And the result was a nice soft loaf with a crunchy crust.

It was fun to pull off the tea towel and discover that my dough had swelled immensely. And then I got to bash it down. What a treat.

Actually, now that I've looked at the recipe again, I realised I probably used less yeast. I think I misread it as tsp instead of tbsp. It still worked though.

ciao, 2005

On this last day of the year, people are looking back on this past year, and taking stock of what good and bad they've done. I sorta did this earlier, so all I'm going to say is that I am looking forward to the year ahead. And hoping it will be filled with more good eats and drinks, good music, good movies, good books, good friends, good times.

And that shall be my new year's resolution - to enjoy the new year.

Happy new year everyone.

it was a lull period at work

A snippet from the Friday 2am conversation over porridge.
G: Do you drink a lot?
Me: Not really.
G: When you said that you looked like you thought you should be drinking more.

...

Also on Thursday, had lunch with DSD at Island Cafe, where we were hardly impressed with the food - we shared a starter of an Asian platter (eg chicken wings, satay, fried wantons and spring rolls) and a black pepper crab tung hoon (which was a mass of fried tung hoon, overdosed with black pepper and topped with a soft shell crab). Marvelled at the hordes of people stewing about town on a weekday afternoon, and looked forward to the days when school would start and force them kids out of town. Ah, how I long for those quiet afternoons where one doesn't have to be shepherded by the security guard at Wisma Atria to join the crowd in the left lane leading out of the mall and into Orchard MRT. And those weekdays when the 171 and 174 buses have seats available.

Randomness
How could you not love indie haikus from Stylus

Listening: Fiona Apple - Window

cards and cookies

E-cards really suck. I hate opening my lotus notes to find them. cos I'm never sure if it'll be a personal one, or one of those mass generated ones. Why don't people just send emails saying hello happy new year, merry christmas, i've had such an excellent year and hope you did too. Rather than having me go to a link, wait for the e-card to load, and fall asleep as random graphics dance around the screen to some cheesy seasonal tune.

Of course, I still prefer old-fashioned, paper cards that have to be sent via snail mail.

Although, except for those ass-ugly office ones which were tricky to write on, I didn't send any out at all this year.

Where did my Christmas spirit go to?

All those damn cookies!

And here are more damn cookies, not the gingerbread kind, but the rum and pecan type.




I tried out this recipe for Southern Pecan Bites (via Shaken And Stirred).

It turned out to be a quite tasty little (and not so little) bite. Or so say those who sampled it - one of whom asked for another, and then a third, which I take to mean that it's tasty.

Anyway, I felt that the cookie dough was a little too dry for me, so I used only about 500g of flour (instead of 550g) and added twice the amount of rum - although it didn't taste of rum, or alcohol, at all. I wonder if bourbon would make a difference, or if something else could replace the alcohol... er.. milk maybe?

It's something I would try again. It's rather easy to make, once you get over the chopping of the pecans which is frankly quite a pain. I suppose you could use a food processor, just make sure you don't blitz the nuts into a powder. But chopping results in different sized pieces, which I prefer. After all, if I wanted everything of similar size, I'd buy a package of cookies from a store.

Yes, I like to bake.
I like the magic that happens when you put together flour, eggs, butter, sugar and other ingredients and out of the oven pops a tasty sweet treat. I feel comfortable in the kitchen, where I know what to do - more or less. (Although I sure wouldn't mind if the weather were cooler.) I like working with my hands. Clean hands, I might add. I like the smell that fills the house when something's baking - houses should always smell of food, and not have kitchens that look spotlessly untouched. I like knowing what goes into the food that goes into my stomach. I like being able to use good sugar from Billingtons - it does make a difference you know. I like that it gives me something to do in the daytime before work.
It sounds terribly domesticated doesn't it.

Listening: Shout Out Louds - Wish I Was Dead part 2

Dining out: PS Cafe

I'm very fond of the Dempsey Road area, its wine cafes and colonial-esque charm.

But sometimes, you just want something a little more substantial for dinner, instead of cheese and sausage platters and frozen pizza.

And tadah! There's PS Cafe just down the road, and nearer than I thought.

Wanting to save money on a cab, I grabbed a bus down from Orchard Road where I'd been doing a bit of window shopping with my sister, and walked up Dempsey Road, only to be confounded as to which direction Harding Road was. I remember the review in Chubby Hubby saying that it's accessible via Minden Road as well, so decided to veer to the left. But still puzzled, I stopped by one of those furniture stores where a woman was seated outside on a swing, reading a newspaper.

She pointed me on my way, although I waited a couple of minutes for the rain to slow down a little. And there it was. Just a couple of minutes walk from Dempsey.

The building - which according to a waitstaff was knocked down and rebuilt - had floor to ceiling picture windows looking out onto what looked like a field. (The windows were fogged up, I couldn't really see) The restaurant retained its projectshop essence of dark wood floors and white walls. Yet it's a little more classy than the original Paragon cafe - with its less haphazard furniture and a cleaner look.

We shared a starter of a sticky prawn salad with a citrus chilli dressing. Had a good spicy kick, with a great assortment of greens.

I went for the lamb curry, which had a most tantalising aroma, tender chunks of lamb, pieces of okra and papadums!

The moussaka wasn't as large as the waitstaff promised, but was tasty and had just the right amount of cheese.

The prawn pasta, also recommended, was pretty good although it came with huge penne, which I'm that fond of.

We enjoyed the food with a lovely bottle of 2003 Brown Brothers Shiraz (limited release).

As the portions weren't overwhelming, there was room for more.

After scrutinising the puds of the day, which were listed on a chalkboard, we made up our minds to get..
an order of fries.

But man were they good fries!

These were huge chunks, deftly salted. And accompanied by a kaffir aioli, which was heaven! Slightly sour, and spicy and oh very creamy. The waitstaff had kindly warned us how unhealthy it was. But we still made him get us a second round of dip - the other dip that came with it was bbq sauce. I don't eat bbq sauce, and according to those two who did, it wasn't as good as the sinful sauce.

And to round the dinner off, we shared the ginger pudding. Now that was a generous portion, surrounded by brandy sauce and topped with vanilla ice-cream. It wouldn't win prizes based on its looks - a grey mound, with a moat of yellow-beige and a crown of white - but it was a hearty, warming, heartwarming dish. Perfect for a rainy night in December, seated by fogged-up windows, imaging it were the middle of winter.

So to sum it up:

Good service - maybe cos j is a regular so she knew some of the staff there, who had moved from the Paragon branch.
Good food
Good atmosphere

Make sure you make reservations though. The place was full on a Tuesday night. And some walk-ins ended up sitting outside - it looks lovely but it was a rainy night and mozzies could've been on the attack!

Also here's another tip: In case you went to the original cafe at Paragon and picked up their location map of a postcard, which J did, they're only open for dinner at the moment, although the card states lunch and tea. So if your traipsing up there for a nice cup of coffee in the afternoon, dont say I didn't warn you.

However, I am looking forward to when they open up in the avro. It would be a nice place for a cup of coffee and a good book. Or a bottle of wine and good company.

PS Cafe (somebody change the name!)
28B Harding Road,
Tel: 6479-3343

Cheese, Gromit!

I was standing in line for tickets to the 130 screening of Narnia. I usually don't do this. I don't get why people would stand in line for tickets in a cinema where you don't get to choose your seats. When you could easily book online, choose your seats and pay about $1 more. The only reason I was in line was these free movie passes I had.

Anyway, while waiting, the kind people at GV decided to make a public service announcement that there were only seats from the 4th row forward for the next few screenings. After a quick confer over the phone with my sister, I got the 145 tickets for Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit instead.

And while I will still try to go see Narnia, I must say, Wallace and Gromit was what I needed! It was fun, thoroughly entertaining and cheery. Like all the other Wallace & Gromit movies.

Those rabbits had me giggling throughout, as if I were beginning an alcoholic high. And Wallace and Gromit, well, what can I say, they're always entertaining. Especially Gromit, the always silent, always patient and always loyal dog.

I don't summaries, but apparently hucks does!

But I'd give this movie 4 out of 5. A must-see this holiday season. Or any season.

Dining out: Shiro

It's the Japanese restaurant which doesn't accept walk-ins. You have to make a reservation, turn up on time and ring the doorbell.

The waitstaff ushers us into the dark, muted room, the walls covered with curtains, making me feel like I'm backstage somewhere, waiting for the show to begin. But the show had begun already for a couple of customers seated at the sushi counter, who were regaled with tales and facts about sushi and Japanese food.

We stuck to the set menu, and went with the champagne lunch - a special tie-up with Moet & Chandon. Priced at $65, it comes with a glass of the gold bubbly, although it doesn't really go that well with the food served. Yes, pricey, but also very good. (Plus, I figure that I would never be able to afford dinner there. I didn't really look at the a la carte prices, but the dinner set was $180.)

We started off with a trio of grilled scallop with a miso-like sauce, sea urchin in a wasabi-infused jelly, and a refreshing little bowl of seaweed and chopped yam in a cold vinegar-based sauce.

Sashimi followed. A good generous portion.

Then came a grilled salmon with a miso marinade, served with some pickled vegetables, which were very addictive.

After which was a chawanmushi, which had a generous serving of some lovely rich broth.

Sushi came next. This was served with a bowl of hot soup with a fishcake floating in it. Hearty indeed.

Dessert was three pieces of jelly - redbean, chestnut and something else I couldn't put my tongue on.

Good food? Indeed. But with those kind of prices, I'm not sure if I can make it there again.



Shiro Japanese Haute Cuisine
24 Greenwood Avenue, Tel: 6472-2774

christmas is a time...

I never really know why my family celebrates Christmas. We're hardly religious. Well, make that - we're not religious. My grandparents are and were Buddhists or Taoists. Some of my aunts/uncles are of various Christian denominations. But my family, we are... 'free thinkers' although I would prefer to use the word agnostic for myself.

But we've always celebrated Christmas.

As a kid, it was a Christmas eve party at my paternal grandparents' house, with us kids doing some carol singing and even organising games for the whole family. But the grandparents having passed on and the kids now grown up (well, some of us are, the younger ones are still in sec school/jc) things are simpler.

My Christmas started off on the eve, with a dinner at my mom's sister's house. This time, with the addition of my uncle and his family, including a sweet almost one-year-old little girl.

So feast number included: green salad, pasta salad, roast beef, roast chicken, roast potatoes, a leg of ham, another lot of greens and mince pies.

For dessert, my mom had made a pumpkin pie and a chocolate cake.

Christmas music played from upstairs as the family sat around to talk about various things, including the upcoming wedding of one of my cousins - we're all just wondering who the groom is.

Christmas Day dinner was at my dad's brother's in the east.

This time dinner involved: turkey (and stuffing), a leg of ham, roast beef, green salad, brussel sprouts that looked overcooked, pineapple rice, some other greens, spaghetti, potato salad, cold crabs - which an uncle had steamed with some Chinese wine - yum.

And for dessert: my sister's brownie, a pecan pie, and white and dark chocolate fondue - fruits and marshmallows.

Each family brought home a doggy back of beef and ham. Looks like it's gonna be sandwiches the next couple of days.

A couple of rabbits ran loose in the front yard while the Bourne Supremacy entranced its viewers in the living room - the coffee table laden with fruits, chocolate and a pot of Chinese tea.

I hope your Christmas was filled with good food and good times.

it's a nice day for a white wedding

Friday was unfortunately a rainy one, so the solemnisation ceremony (is that what it's called?) had to take place indoors, but the sky cleared enough for us to have pictures taken outdoors with the happy couple.

I was a friend of the bride, whom I'd worked with and had become friends with.

This was one of the weddings where I knew more than one person attending, so it was nice to hang around with them. It was still about an hour before dinner to start but we found out that we could have beers while waiting so that kept us in a good mood.

Until the dreaded moment, where the single women had to go catch that damn bouquet.

You could tell how enthusiastic we all were, the way we huddled away from the stairs where the bouquet-tossing was to be. We had to be coaxed nearer.

She tossed.

I watched it make its little arc in the clear sky above, thanking the heavens that it was not heading in my direction. Only to see it drop on the grass in front of one of the bride's ex-classmates, flowers scattering. She picked it up reluctantly, protesting.

The bouquet-tossing was to make a second round. Damn.

Again, she threw it. I think I was holding my breath.

This time, it was headed a little more in my direction. So I did what any single girl would do. I took a step back.

The flowers landed in the arms of the groom's sister.

The rest of us cheered her on, a little more than relieved.

Now wasn't this little ritual supposed to be one where the women try to make a grab for the bouquet? That's how it seems to be in er... movies... and er... America's Funniest Home Videos, where the fat women trip over each other in their fight for the prize.

Here, it was avoided like the plague. It was a form of torture.

When I get married - maybe I should change it to 'if' since I didn't catch the bouquet - I wouldn't want to toss it.

Otherwise the dinner was all good. It wasn't the horrendously torturous typical Chinese sit-down dinners but a meal of western food, buffet-style. There was cold dishes, salads, sushi, and best of all, bbq - steak, lamb chops, stingray, fish. Although someone remarked - what's a bbq without sausages!

And the happy couple did look happy, I suppose that's all that matters.

After the wedding, we headed to Loof, which was packed, so we had to stand at the bar, which killed me cos I'd been in my heels since 3 and were my feet and legs aching! Walking around in those things for 9 or so hours is a killer! Fortunately, threw mej's stealthy moves, we squeezed and got a sitdown. But I didn't stay long, despite spying eps at another table who was with an interesting bunch of random strangers. I was pooped. I wanted to go home and sleep off the ache in my legs. And wear flats for the next week.

picky

It was far easier to pick out my favourite books than my favourite albums of the year. But I know what goes right on top - Wolf Parade!

Among the other bests would be:
Spoon - Gimme Fiction
The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema
The Magic Numbers
The Boy Least Likely To - The Best Party Ever
Sufjan Stevens - Illinois
Arcade Fire - Funeral

not potty

Harry Potter original? Bah! There was first Ursula K Le Guin and her enchanting Earthsea quartet, one of my all-time favourites.

Now that I would love to see a movie off. Just bettter not let Mike Newell direct it.

However, a mini-series was shown not too long ago on cable - it was appallingly bad, and starred Shawn Ashmore as Ged. This was the kid who played Iceman in in the X-Men movies. How in hell did he get chosen to play Ged?

So it's no surprise that Le Guin explains on her website that she "had minimal, long-distance contact with the producers, and no consultatory input".

ARGH. Bloglines is down. Now what do I do? Type in blog urls manually?!!?!

Listening to: Nightmare of You - Why Am I Always Right

merry merry

Oh I forgot to blog about these:

My gingerbread cookies.

They took me about 2 hours to make on Saturday and I think I managed to churn out about 250 of them (some are mini ones, thanks to the set of mini Christmas cookie cutters Dad brought back from the shop for me)

I usually help my mum out when she does these but this year, the backbreaking work was all mine. So don't mind if I blow my own horn a little.

I was inclined to ice them up real nice, but figured that I would first need to leave in a country which doesn't have the sun beating down on its citizens in December - sekali the icing melt, then instead of a happy face, you'd just get a blob in the middle of the head. I already traumatised Annabel with a decapitated person, so a disfigured one might just give someone a heart attack.

So meet
Suicide Jim
and
Suicide Sally

and their jolly good time Christmas accessories.


Oh and this is their illegitimate kid known as Boy. (as in, eh Boy, stop sticking your head in the effing bell!)


Most of the time, Suicide Jim and Suicide Sally aren't on good terms, but sometimes, they are.

Suicide Jim and Suicide Sally and the rest of cookie cutter world are available for a nibble.

Oh and here's a little Christmas tune, from the lovely lads of Boy Least Likely To Little Donkey

a cinema virgin

"WAH!!"

"WOAH!!"

"WOWWW!!"

He was thoroughly absorbed in the movie, each twist in the plot, each exciting bit in the film was accompanied by exclamations.

This I can understand coming from a little kid.

But this guy, seated next to me during the King Kong screening, was a grown man. Probably in his 20s, for all I could see in the dark.

He acted like he'd never watched a movie before.

Or maybe he just had a low IQ.

I couldn't be too sure.

But it was rather distracting sitting next to someone who seemed every ready to jump out of his seat and into the movie itself.

And I was just wondering why it is that my movie-going has dropped considerably this past year. Although the lack of access to free previews is probably the biggest reason, I can't deal with fellow moviegoers who insist on treating the cinema like their own home, with no consideration to others in the cinema - eg potato chip bag rustler in Lido, brats who kick chairs and people who just won't shut up.

summing up

After watching King Kong on Saturday night - good cinematography and acting, and of course, amazing special effects, but at three hours plus, a tad bit long. But I must say, I never expected to be moved by a love between a woman and a huge gorilla - went to Vinum at 1 Raffles Link, to a party I didn't know I was attending, where people were supposed to don "mad hats". But hey, it was a one-for-one so, why not?

And after, tagged along to Loof to have another drink and to lounge around and look at the moon. And to be entertained by this group at the next table, who sang Christmas tunes on request. Well, those parts of the carols they could remember that is.

Well this place is tons better than Balcony! Nicer atmosphere, something to look at... sorta... - well the sky beats the side street hands down. Wait staff also a bit better trained. Plus, there's no jacuzzi!

Now playing: Wolfmother - Dimension

woohoo

Oasis
Franz Ferdinand
Placebo
Maximo Park
Ian Brown
Korn (eh)
Snow Patrol

at Bangkok 100 Rock Festival!

5,000 baht for 2 day pass!

Thursdays child has far to go

Large Hearted Boy's on his way to 52 books in 52 weeks. Otherwise, it's another nice list of books I have yet to read, although I doubt I'll find them all in the library. Well, there's still the kino sale I guess...
Btw, McSweeney's Quarterly, I discovered recently, retails at more than 40 bucks here!

The lovely Slate writers have also picked their top reads of the year, with many choosing Ian McEwan's Saturday. Must see what all the fuss is about...

Oh, and for some reason, The Guardian interviews The Sunday Times' AA Gill. An entertaining piece.
Then I saw this part.

His first piece of journalism was a 600-word piece on Craigie Aitchison for a friend's art magazine.
"I said, 'I can't spell'; they said, 'It doesn't matter, we've got subs.'"

And it led me to realise that Gill and I have something in common.
Gill is dyslexic.
Sometimes I feel like some people I sub for are dyslexic.

Turducken? Why do three birds in one when you can do
ten!

Since del.icio.us seems to be down for maintenance (although they claim it to be only an hour, it has been more like a day), I'm linking here instead a rare interview with Philip Roth who just can't be bothered to answer the same questions over and over again. And when I interviewed authors like Jasper Fforde, I am sure I was the millionth reporter or fan to ask them the same questions, but they were nice about it. But Fforde, he's no Philip Roth.

"Why don't you smile?" I ask.

"There once was this photographer from New York. 'Smile,' she always said. 'Smile!' I couldn't stand her or the whole phenomenon. Why smile into a camera? It makes no human sense. So I got rid of both her and the smile."

"Do you ever smile at all?"

He looks at me. "Yes, when I'm hiding in a corner and no one sees it."

Then later

"I would be wonderful with a 100-year moratorium on literature talk, if you shut down all literature departments, close the book reviews, ban the critics. The readers should be alone with the books, and if anyone dared to say anything about them, they would be shot or imprisoned right on the spot. Yes, shot."

Hmmm I like this man.

and off we go

Rick Moody - The Black Veil
Joan Didion - Where I Was From
John Irving - Until I Find You
Kazuo Ishiguro - Never Let Me Go
William S Burroughs - Junky


Here's my december library haul. This time I braved the bus ride and walk and escalator ride to the dungeon that is the Central Lending Library, picked up the two reserved books, marvelled at the heft of John Irving's latest (and even considered asking not to borrow it, but eh they'd still charge me the reservation fee) and breathed a sigh of relief at the relative smallness of Kazuo Ishiguro's newest. Then I wandered the non-fictions to find the Joan Didion (her latest isn't out yet so I wanted to read some of her writing just to see what she was like) and also came across the Rick Moody (whom I always want to spell as Ricky Moody) and then a pop over to the fiction side to find that there are several Burroughs books available. Must... come... back...

As I sat along one of the black benches provided, with a view of the books by authors whose names start with B, I watched as a teenaged girl in a red t-shirt and denim skirt hovered over the Bs, poring over the collection to find... that perfect Charlotte Bingham novel. I'd never heard of Charlotte Bingham, but she's sure been busy. I could see at least 10 different books by this industrious woman. Although somehow they all seem to have the same cover, in blues or other pastely colours, with a woman, most often looking longingly into the distance. Ok so from where I was sitting I could only see a few covers but I'm guessing the rest of them look all the same.

I hope it's just a teen thing, and that she will not be reading Ms Bingham's books for the rest of her life - although I'm sure Bingham will still be producing these things then. Saul Bellow was a few steps to the left, why not that? The next row had Cheever and Chekhov staring right at her. But there was hardly a flicker of interest. Well, I admit that I've only read Bellow's Ravelstein, wanted to borrow Augie March once but the weight of the hardcover scared me a little. Chekhov I've not really read much of either.

But I suppose reading crap is better than not reading anything at all! In secondary school I really didn't do much reading, as I've said before. And I'm now just trying to catch up. Struggling to, that is.

listening to: The Decemberists - We Both Go Down Together

red

What's the best thing you can do on Mondays? Get liquored-up!

So it was probably my third or fourth wine class but the first one I'd actually paid for. (The others had been for work as the former paper had quite a few of these for readers)

The class at Cafe Amigo was a two hour one and featured six different wines - a sparkling white, two Chardonnays, a Merlot-Grenache, a Pinot Noir and a Gewuertztraminer.

I came out of it not knowing any better about wines but it was a good two hours spent with friends and alcohol, although a bit of a hungry one as I'd not had dinner before that - the seven of us polished off the bread and cheese offered and when class was over, even grabbed those off the other tables.

After class, eps, char and I went to have a look at Balcony, which was nearly full upstairs, despite it being a Monday night. With a lack of chairs at the small table, we had to sit around this pathetic little jacuzzi which was probably just a bubbling cesspool of bacteria. Managed to find seats along the side later, although a giant red velvet curtain sorta blocked my view of.... hmm... the streets below I suppose.

Our calamari took ages to arrive and when it did, it tasted like something out of a frozen packet.

But when all you've had since 7pm is a couple of miserable California rolls out of the sad sushi display at Centrepoint. and some slices of baguette and teeny cubes of cheese, frozen calamari with tartar sauce will do. (ok so I also had a latte and half a chocolate cake slice at BloodBros at about 4pm). Oh and of course we didnt just go there to stare at bubbles and eat frozen battered squid! I had a gin and tonic. We were by this time more concerned about filling the stomach than getting a fancy drink so I named the usual. Plus the drinks list was a little grotty looking, despite the new-ness of the place.

I'm not sure if I'll go there again. If I'm in the area and am hankering for the alcohol, I think I'd rather go try my luck up emerald hill. then again, they do one-for-one drinks (if I remember correctly) until 9pm....

Oh, and I suppose some people already know this, but I didn't until today.

Alcohol Flush Reactionis a condition where the body cannot break down ingested alcohol completely, due to a deficiency of an inactive enzyme, aldehyde dehydrogenase 2 (ALDH2) which is normally responsible for breaking down acetaldehyde, a byproduct of the metabolism of alcohol. Since acetaldehyde is a toxin, it accumulates and causes flushing if the human body can't break it down. Approximately half of all Asians have a sensitivity to alcohol due to this condition and there is some evidence that this condition exists frequently in people of Jewish descent as well.

So when my face turns red, it's because I don't have enough ALDH2.