I have a strange foible that whenever I'm in a bookshop, I like to breathe deeply. I love that scent of books which never fails to give me a nerve-tangling joy. Of course a primitive like me also like that solid and physical feeling of a real book - how you can count the pages which you have read, how a page creases by raindrops or teardrops, how pages are all turned yellow by the passing of time.
Book rocks! (e-book, boo...)
Sound like a book-lover. No, no, far from it. I read too slow and too little (I've only read 2 books so far this year *shhhh*). But book-making-lover? Yes, yes! I found great fun in it.
My first "proper" handmade book. (as in the past, my books are too "amateur" ;p)
Ha, my friends are so frenetic about rubber carving recently. It's great that they provide much motivation for me to do some, though I clearly lack the necessary patience, eyesight and steady hand. Oh the roughness, I call it my style (i'm good at euphemism). Hope my usual 3-minute enthusiasm will not die so soon.
For a pretentious person like me who proclaims her fondness for those elitist you-name-it bands, it is utterly embarrassing to admit my love for a band labelling under the genre of easy-listening. I know I should hum the gospel of cliché melancholy like "sorrow found me when I was young...", but instead I just like to soak up in a great big congratulations. Frankly, for these two months I think I have listened to this album over hundreds of times, played it at least once everyday and sometimes the first thing in the morning was to play it loud, such a fervent addiction. To reduce my guilt, I have to express my hatred for their first album. Owing to those three hit singles contained therein, I categorized their first album as one of that disgusting hedonist Ibiza club music and the band as a mere hype (yes, I can be very pompous sometimes). But that was history right now. Because of my recent fondness for their second album, I now think their first album is not that bad, or maybe it's actually quite nice.
To analyze my recent enthusiasm is that I suck young blood/am anxious to find the next boys band really feel passionate about the 60’s psychedelic music, the sound of Love/The Doors/Sergeant Pepper's (for many reasons I always believe that in my former life I was a dirty ugly hippie who died in overdose). I like their music which makes me think of trees and cloud and sunshine. I also like their clever arrangement of sounds, sometimes layers of choruses are blended together, sometimes different tunes are even blended into one song (and it is so If-on-a-winter’s-night-a-traveller, so twisted and playful and fantastic, see, I’m pretentious). Of course it is also interesting to hear the explicit reference to substance (while sung by an innocent and childish voice). Reminder: please put this album on when you consume your mushroom tea.
Look up to wikipedia, I found that they were one of line-up in 2008 Glastonbury and 2009 V Festival. Oh but I did not love them at that moment, poor timing! (err, but in both festivals their slots were coincidentally clashed with Mr Doherty, and it's impossible for me to forsake Doherty, so in all occasions it's still bad timing). For I had neglected them for quite some time, recently I have been busy in catching up on their video clips and, clearly, I've got a pistol that's aimed at my heart.
two super cute losers (not lovers, ha)
(right, don't feel surprised if I blah about any worship for a korean or japanese (even chinese?) idol, i have a shift of taste)
Blogging is dying. It's true. We now are all content with those 140-characters mini blogs or the status-updating in social networks. For me, blogging is like a conversation with oneself. It's so introspective and contemplative. So unhealthily sentimental. Soul searching is absolutely tiring. So we are happy to update our status in twitter or whatever platform, be it just a glimpse of thought, an exclamation, a joke or a fact, the words are so light, humdrum and trivial. I can no longer keep honest to myself or encounter my own fragility and banality. I want comfort. Let's evade.
