Avenue U

Kafka offered the most perfect contemplation after some overheated working session over the weekend. It reminded me slightly of David Lynch's Elephant Man, where a perfectly conscious mind resides in an impaired physical form. I would have expected the ending to pertain at least to some form of reminiscence toward Samsa after his death. Instead, Gregor's sister's physical transformation, where true in existence or not, was the sole subject on spot after all that has happened. Elephant Man has a different take on reaction towards physical deformation. It focuses on inevitable act of patronizing, and in turns, suggesting that the only source of integrity an individual can only come from free will, and the strength of oneself to act on one's circumstances.

Didn't get to finish the deadline over Thanksgiving. Strolling around Soho, neither did italian dessert at east village, trying out a $500 scarf, nor picking up gaggets at MoMA design store was enough to set my mind off and to turn a page over. Scotch put on a temporary shield over my disappointment, but sunrise at Avenue U brought it back with a new face. I sank deeply into my bed when I got home, over compensating the few floor sleeping nights, and digested this thanksgiving such that nothing is left but a vague keyframe in my mind.

work in progress

A lot of things reflect what's going on indirectly, much like a lens into one's life- what you cook, whether you say good morning to your coworkers, what you put on your phone as your wallpaper. Work in progress is how most of the time feels like in the past month. I pull up this model on my phone, as to remind myself what things should be leading up to.

And then of course, Kafka gives your painful laughs:
'he would normally have used his arms and hands to hoist himself up; but instead of them he now had only the numerous little legs, which were uninterruptedly moving in the most confused way and which, in addition, he couldn't control.'
Sometimes on and off at quick response on a regular conversation, these thousand little legs come up in my mind, my mind felt foggy, my speech, is much like arms and legs that cannot hoist oneself up properly.

Where the wild things are

Charles has such unpredictable wind pattern - we all Bostonian knew it just from a regular rainy day. But not until you're sailing in it, in the middle of the turmoil, that you realize how every minute nuances affects you, and what your reactions are toward changes. Fear was one thing, but I should be glad that the fear of mediocrity has brought me over fear of physical inequity. After being alone on the Charles for an hour, I finally found my boat and myself reacting to wind like how a cat would land on unexpected fall over.

The adrenaline rush was priceless. The peace that came the few seconds you find yourself at the right angle upwind, sailing at the right tension, even more profound. Something easier said than done actually took place - let out and tighten at the right moments, and go out of your way to do something wild.

John Singer Sargent

'Six men dressed in black lean against a dark grey wall, hunched over their guitars, and watch a woman dance. In a dark, smoky room, the solitary dancer raises up one arm in a tense, ecstatic movement of inspi­ration; her other hand clutches the skirt of her dress — a flash of white light gleaming in the dark. You can almost hear the rhythmic weeping of the guitars; you can almost feel beating of the dancer’s tumul­tuous heart.'

The Dise

Having read Edward Allen's mumble (yep reading the book makes me think of how he would mumble and explain patiently) about how to excavate and pour foundation properly all afternoon, I decided I would spend the night at the Reykjavik Calling concert at the Paradise Rock Club. I'm not usually the person who dig up stars before they became one, but I wonder if Soley and Asgeir Trausti, who I heard and loved tonight, will become one one day? (just like how you and I were listening to Adele when she was nobody on KCRW) Given how my library is saturated with dry post-rock items, this might be a more melodic alternative to dinner/cooking gathering.

Can't believe he's only twenty years old.

Kerez

Dai sum and I went over to the GSD this evening to see Kerez's exhibition before it closes this sunday. One of the students at his lecture pointed out that his finished work is extremely honest to the initial conception of the project in an unusual manner. It is very curious to see how a singular liner project can be implemented without being convoluted by various nominal practicing constraints. (as far as i observed, like optimum proportions of  a living room, proper room enclosure, comfortable length of a hallway, comfortable flight oof stairs, etc.) While our office strive to deposit layers of complexity in our projects, his work makes me rethink whether it is dangerous or rightful that we rule out convolutions in the design process for the sake of building artifacts.

kung hei

I did manage to call home at the right time for Chinese New Year still for the past couple years. I use to refrain from starting with Kung Hei Fat Choi because it always sounds very awkward coming out of my mouth. Perhaps in my mind there are things that I think should be said first and foremost than 'Fat Choi'.
This year the phrase slipped out of my mouth as I talked to my brother. I paused and ponder upon what 'Fat Choi' could substantially mean for me, in terms of rent, exams, savings, classes, etc. I was surprised at how much this greeting could mean to me personally given the right context. There must be people who experienced the same awakening as I did.

Given storm nemo's sweep over the weekend, we poured out our limited reserve, made a proper Asian meal, and dug out the brightest red shirt we have in our closet.

Seaport Blvd

Thanks to Lisa's commissioning of taking Seaport photos, I got to take some fresh air at the harbor.
At one point I had to hover over the wire mesh to get a good view of the site. The slightly cold breeze was bald and bleak just the way I like it.

Don Quixote of La Mancha

The ARE makes me crave whimsical readings. Don Quixote is perfect for that matter.

"Those you see over there," replied his master, [Don Quixote] " with the long arms; sometimes they are almost two leagues long."
"Look, your grace," Sancho responded, " those things that appear over there aren't giants but windmills, and what looks like their arms are the sails that are turned by the wind and make the grindstone move."

I'm only up to this and couple other earlier episodes of DQ's being nonsensical. I'm very impressed by this peculiar choice of subject and its particular form of humor, given that it was 1605 when it was written.

Covetousness

Lk 12:22-23
And he said to his disciples,"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on. for life is more than food, and the body more than clothing."
Lk 12:34
For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

For me, and I think for some others in the upper realm of our culture, it's not so much about clothing, food or material per se, but a general sense of security on whatever we choose to believe in. Be it art, love, democracy, change, humanity, there's a point where beliefs as such tip and overturn. Anxiety is a sign of sin, of covetousness, a pernicious effort to revolt against God. It stands in our way in truly believing in the Gospel, the life beyond what we perceive.

Moonrise Kingdom

I could be a little overcompensating by posting too frequently here for starters- this will attenuate eventually.

I did want to written down a few lines though after seeing Moonrise Kingdom couple weeks ago with another big Anderson fans. My first Wes Anderson experience was Rushmore, which struck me as totally bizarre and eccentric. I didn't quite understand his being so emphatic about portraying the ambiguity of child and adult. In Moonrise, Sam and Suzy came from a scout group (highly disciplined) and large suburban family (supposedly perfect) respectively, where subversion cannot be a more logical reaction. Though awkwardly mature, they are still spoken through a child's honesty. 

Plus, Anderson's patent for shooting mid 60s setting is automatic.

I like how Suzy carries a cat around as a necessity.

Pina Bausch

On House News yesterday was an article about victory of City U's dance society in this year's contest. House News featured them for their distinguished premise of education in patriotism, a scotching episode of public protest in Hong Kong couple months ago. Not something you would inherently associate with dancing, but I thought the translation into artistic expression still need a bit of sensitivity.
I haven't watched any dance or theatrical shows in a while, but it reminds me of a documentary of Pina Bausch I saw couple months ago. She should also be an architect's love too.

Labrador Records

This new shoulder pain that started from hunching over too much is getting on my nerve. Hopefully a few swings of racket tonight would give it a bit of relief. Oh and I forgot it's March already, meaning hookah + turkish coffee at Andala can resume soon. Oh that frail sunset on Western, and of course that uninvited, eclectic smell of Central Square.
Another interesting creature under labrador record. Sustained me through serial bombardment of study materials.

do without

Not the coldest nor rainiest week ever, yet winter's melancholy has struck me a little bit this past week. Rather than sitting, snacking, staring, may be scribbling can do some good. May be I could write down a few things so that I don't forget as easily.

Stumbled upon Swedish band the Radio Dept tonight.

"People see rock and roll as, as youth culture, and when youth culture becomes monopolised by big business, what are the youth to do? Do you, do you have any idea?
I think we should destroy the bogus capitalist process that is destroying youth culture."