mature words

what the heck is that? i just stumbled into a blog which contains the following mysterious link:

http://usokomaker.com/yoji/

it seems fun, though i don't know the exact japanese meaning.

kitty will be:

haha, i definitely do not go to bed early (but i won't object to the latter part, haha, shameless!)

my chinese name "__和" will be:

what? but it confirms that i really am a "pretty"? haha let's vomit!!!!!

my chinese name "鄧__" in english:

so it means i have this ability or not?

my usual name "kitty tang":

that explains why i always live in poverty.

and my online name "kittyshambles":

oh i love it most!!! yes, i do come from Planet Sensitivity.

Always, always, always the sea

British Sea Power @ Grappa's Cellar, Hong Kong 10.10.2009


I must say, the gig was unexpectedly good! Not really a fan of BSP, though their anthemic guitar is always my cup of tea and, after the gig, I think I may become a real fan, at least I really want to see their gig again.

The show was opened by The Yours. That was the first time I watched their show, though I longed to see them since 2006. I always had some sort of urgent matters that I couldn't attend their shows. Destiny delays our encounter. Anyway, they were as cool as I thought, in terms of the music and the look, but I was disturbed once again and couldn't see their whole set, fate!



The Yours

Then it was British Sea Power. Dress code of the Wilkinson bros was quite "unique", no shoes on, Hamilton with an overtly camp sleeveless top and Yan with a suffocated scarf in a room of insufficient air con. It all became insignificant when the music started. Powerful and anthemic, these are the right words to describe the music but not quite the exact words for the atmosphere. Err... yes, RAPTURE! Everyone was rapturous, for those on stage and those under... Noble not only played on the stage or up on the amplifier, he even jumped down the stage and played with the crowd. Mosh pit was dangerous, but we all were hypnotized, pushed your body, shook your head, continuous stage-diving, it's a mysterious ritual. Only when the barrier between the performers and the audience disappears, music becomes real alive and that's what live performance is about.


Yan tried the breakdance


What a Noble man


Yes, i always like this sort of scene


"throw him off!"


pornography


all bands come from rough trade must make this pose

Every poet is a fool

err, what can i say? Best wishes for someone, whether that AWOL was because of health problem or not.

I'm thinking about history

This is where i lived when i was a child. This is where when i dreamt about going home, i would go back there, and get lost. It is full of trees, songs of birds, sound of waterfall. Blue skies and daisy, daydreaming in classroom, hi-fi's volume competition, this is what my childhood like, of course also with nervousness and anxiety. My childhood's home will be demolished soon at the end of this year, leave in silence.






cherry house, so uk estate, my childhood's home

hay-on-wye

That is my ideal place for retirement. If I have loads of money, I really like to buy a house in Hay. It's a small town with no train connection, but its remoteness also sets a good vibe for this town of books, isolated, far from the madding crowd, with only second-hand, mouldy and dusty books. Old books always give a strange kind of charm, travelled far in terms of time and space, they always have their own story to be told, besides the stories written within. I like to think about the identity of the original owner, where the book came from, the number of different owner in-between... did it come from a personal library of a book collector, or was it just part of the domestic decoration of a pretentious snob? It is like a mysterious thread connecting different people, or even different centuries. Like those lending records attached to the books of public libraries, I always feel intrigued by the previous readers. I've bought a small book of poetry of lord bryon. All pages were yellowed and the cover was creepily stained by human touch. This book must have been loved by its previous owner(s). I can almost feel the fanatical savour of this person to the book. Another book I've bought, charles lamb's essays of elia, it looks brand new though it was published in the early 20th Century. It must be placed on the shelf for a long time as "decoration" only. I hope I will give the books the respect they deserve by reading them sometimes, though I am afraid (and pretty sure) that the books in my house generally are also becoming part of the fixtures and fittings only, I read too slow. Sorry, books.

solitude standing

I love those antique streetlamps in UK, elegance, solitude. No matter it's a peaceful night or a market full of hustle and bustle, they never fail to romanticise. They made me think of the lamplighter in the little prince. "A beautiful occupation", according to what the prince said, because whenever he lights a lamp, he adds one more star to the sky.




because they are beautiful, they must be useful.


We used to have them in the colonial past but in the name of modernisation they were all swept away.

"but then, he's very charming, and very, very sweet"

so i gave him two kissy kissy.




Must have item for every fan.

ambivalent

of course i really like to have this chair, but also feel much distaste for the overt commercialisation of this person, not his fault, our fault.



anyone will really sit on it? to imagine that he's around you? no, i won't (because i can't eat, drink or fart(!) on this chair)

so tell me, where does all the money go

wouldn't it be nice to read in office

"It is quite true that I have worshipped you with far more romance of feeling than a man usually gives to a friend … well from the moment I met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. I quite admit that I adored you madly, extravagantly, absurdly. I was jealous of every one to whom you spoke. I wanted to have you all to myself. I was only happy when I was with you. When I was away from you, you were still present in my art."

my working mood already slipped away, so i have work to do (even told to be urgent) but i just drowned to reading dorian gray again. that's the original text (and later was amended by wilde because it's just too explicit of ... what?) it's so beautifully written and gives me so much association and imagination.

i heard that there will be a film soon, another attempt to kill the novel.

friends within darkness, but no friend in the white cube

What if I say no?
What if I say fuck off?
But you don't get it
cos my weakness is,
I was far too polite.




the more i read, the more i fall for him! but his books are always expensive, always put in my wishlist. to quote his verse for my present feeling,



"finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into
the streets to be interviewed for low-paying and
monotonous
jobs
by strange men behind desks
men without eyes men without faces
who would take away my hours
break them
piss on them."

- Charles Bukowski

blank entry, i have nothing to say

Everyone seems very busy in the office, i doubt if they are just like me, looking perplexed, staring at the screen constantly, sometimes pressing the keyboard. Do they really have so many works to do, everyday and every hour? or it is just the usual survival kit in office life? i'm also busy, (actually i have real job to do, but i'm just procrastinating) i'm busy to surf around (so it proves that the policy of restricting access is correct?) and now even go to blogging .... no, actually, i don't have anything to update my blog, i'm just too idle.

I discovered that i have updated 4 times in June and the index shows June (4) on the left-hand side, humm....

surfing around is good, or else i won't be aware that there will be godard review in september. (wow, will the film shows really be so completed?)

I don't want to earn my living, I want to live

- Wilde said.

I can only sing :

I stand accused just like you
For being born without a silver spoon
Stood at the top of a hill
Over my town I was found

I've been on the shelf too long
Sitting at home in my bed too long
Got my things and now I'm gone
How's the world gonna take me?

Finding myself used to be hard
But now I see the light
If love is a drug
Then I don't need it

I've been on the shelf too long
Sitting at home in my bed too long
Now it's time to hear my song
How are you gonna take it?

I've been on the shelf too long
Think the words without the song
Never had a way to go
Tell me now I'm taking it
I've been on the shelf too long
I've been on the shelf too long
I've been on the shelf too long

We've got a lot of living to do
There's a door in my mind that's open wide
Come inside come inside

Jesus never saved me
He'll never save you too, and you know!
I've got a little sticker on the back of my boot
This is music





How true.

Liverpool

I should have written it months ago but I was tired and blank at that time. I'm still tired and blank but I feel like writing something about it now.

Liverpool - Lisandro Alonso

It's a simple story (if it can be called a story). A taciturn mariner set his journey back home for his ailing mother. There were hardly any dialogues, some people were playing games, but not for the taciturn man, he was standoffish, he's just present, and observed (or did he?) Just like the audience, we're just present, and observed (or did we?) but we were never invited by the director to connect with the film. The journey was long and hard, cruel blizzards all the way. There was no welcome at home (if that is a place called home). His mother did not recognise him. His daughter was not enthusiastic of his return. His father only wanted him to leave quickly. God knows what's happened there before. The world has already forgotten the taciturn man. He did not feel sad about it or at least his face did not register any sadness or disappointment. He left but the film continued. We saw what sort of lives that he left behind. It was the tip of Argentina, a place unknown to the world or maybe even to Argentina. The place was so remote that people have to live with limited resources and animal instinct. The world has not only forgotten the taciturn man, but also his family. Or maybe it's the world forgotten by the audience as we tend to dismiss the thing non-existing if we do not aware of it.

This is a film of microscopic examination of everyday's trivialities, detailed shoot of dressing, packing, eating and living. Banal and ordinary. No sentiment involved, if we only see thing as it seems. He tried to put the blanket on his mother, played around those little thingies in the house, stole a picture of his family, his hands were actually kept caressing the past and memory, though emotion also constantly kept restrained. Or he has been silent for a long time that he already lost the mean of communication. He gave a keychain to his daughter, bearing the name of a port somewhere. It might mean nothing to her, as it was not something valuable, and she seemed not interested to know what the word was about. But that might be the only thing that her father left her. A souvenir in the journey, record of a disconnected man wandering in the world, somewhere sometime, he may bear a thought of someone.











I have received several souvenirs of journey from others, some I like very much, some I just said thank you and put them somewhere now cannot be found, just like I also have given several to others, some may be being cherished, some may be regarded as trash as well. The only souvenir i got from my father is a bag from Guangzhou, cheap and ordinary. I never get along well with him, we don't talk to each other much. It is well known in family that I’m his least favourite child though I was also said to be the one who bore his character, a flawed character. He spends his humble life without much enjoyment and travelling. and I like the bag.

Crucifixion is the easy life

Journal For Plague Lovers-Manic Streets Preachers

My first impression of the sleeve cover was, "How she reminds me of Richey Edwards!" Confused and apprehended, bloodshed and morbid. Richey was of course never confused. He was strong-willed (stronger than Mensa, Miller and Mailer) and a firm believer (of nothing).

To say richey is the gist or the soul of the band is a bit unfair to the other members and also a mystification or even deification of the very person. I still love Manics after the AWOL of Richey Edwards and consider Lifeblood as one of their best albums. However, with the magic touch of Richey (so actually it's me who mystify him), Manic Street Preachers lives up to its name again, preaching the unfinished business of the holy bible, fervently, with vehemence and sympathy, sometimes with rare tenderness. Still captivated by failed heroes/villains (Marlon J.D.), sympathetic with victims (She Bathed Herself In A Bath Of Bleach), skeptical of banality (Me and Stephen Hawking, Facing Page: Top Left) and hatred to the reign and the dominant, whitewash and lies (Journal for Plague Lovers, Virginia State Epileptic Colony), it is the good old manics we know from the idealistic angry young man in Generation Terrorists and Gold Against The Soul to the misanthropist in The Holy Bible. In Journal For Plague Lovers, anger and pain is further internalized, but silence is not sacrifice. The misanthropist becomes weary and withdrawn, seeking for an untethered place for a tired soul (This Joke Sport Severed, William's Last Words). These are the rare tender moments for the manics, though these also are the heart-breaking moments for those who love the person or the band. I never have problem with the voice of Nicky Wire (and cannot understand why people feel so abhorrence). I even think it's better to have Nicky to sing William's Last Words, laid-back and playful, he mollifies the otherwise too sentimental song.

My favourites are All Is Vanity and Doors Closing Slowly. Manics becomes the manic supporter of the authoritarian in AIV, people are simply lacking intelligence to make the right choice or, it makes no difference if we have choices or not, they are all lies after all, that's very cynical and very err ... richey.

Besides your cynicism, what else have you got? Emptiness and nothingness growing since teenage years has never died away, sense of uselessness only grows stronger. Doors closing slowly, so are you trapped within or without? Maybe it's true that crucifixion is easier than the stale existence and decaying. "In the end we had pieces of the puzzle but no matter how we put them together gaps remained. Oddly-shaped emptiness mapped by what surrounded them like countries we couldn't name." The world is noisy (listen to the voice of the accomplishment). What's your yearning? What's your loathing? Distant guitar with military / funeral drumbeats, clock-ticking, humdrum and routine, but your days are numbered, and you are mute.

Decades

Whenever i listened to this song, i would think about that incident. That was a sad day, but they were the most beautiful people i have ever seen.

Here are the young men, a weight on their shoulders
Here are the young men, well where have they been?
We knocked on doors of Hell's darker chambers
Pushed to the limits, we dragged ourselves in
Watched from the wings as the scenes were replaying
We saw ourselves now as we never had seen
Portrayal of the traumas and degeneration
The sorrows we suffered and never were free

Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?

Weary inside, now our heart's lost forever
Can't replace the fear or the thrill of the chase
These rituals showed up the door for our wanderings
Opened and shut, then slammed in our face

Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?

Journal for plague person

Constant no-update, it means this garden will soon be (or is already) forgotten by my rare and if-they-have-ever-existed (my dear imaginary) readers, but then at least I may say something frank or really treat it as a diary. That's the schizophrenia of bloggers. So do i want other to read, or not? The button on the screen says, "Publish Post", so I must want others to read (?) A mindset of a mental exhibitionist. A few days ago one of my friends asked about my absence from this blog. She was sort of good friend of mine but I was still scared by her attention. There're some people you don't expect them to read, such as your family, your colleagues or those you know they never understand what you are talking about (but they are still your friends, or even considered as good friends, how queer...). Sometimes you prefer to confess to a stranger to a person you really know. Maybe I don't need to worry cos' most of the time I just talked nonsense here and most of my friends would look blank when it's me who asked if they had read anything here. I always think blogging is something like a mental masturbation, something you have to release or, it just serves to satisfy the blogger himself / herself, because actually the one and only feverish reader of a blog is the blogger himself/herself. To show off the place you have been, the food you have eaten, the people you're with, the feeling you have, to establish the alter ego, be it the usual "princess/prince syndrome", or those "with the same guilt" cultural melancholic narcissus. No, no. Don't be disturbed by my words. I'm cynical. Please still enjoy your own blogging.

Because of my friend's query, I decide to delete hundreds of words, just my usual whining, to avoid the fragility of openness.

still need to whine. Bad luck. what can i say. no escape. don't escape. like the murphy's law. or what carl jung said. why my journal for plague lovers doesn't have the hidden track? limited edition means with limited number of tracks? so i have to spend extra HK$99 to buy the normal version. the poorer you are, the more ghosts you see.

what is the date of today

Hum hum… makes no sense
Mermaids drown
Birds fall
We choke
But still breathe
He preaches in the street (not manic at all)
Rest assure we are all listening (though we look in awe)
Fly dies in the office
no, it's tinkerbell

no internet in office, may i squeeze some time

to make an entry here. I say it's a squeeze cos' when i am at home online, i just spend the time on pet society, it's so useless and boring! (but i can't stop the routine of feeding my pet). Sometimes i miss my blog terribly and want to put down something (without knowing what to put down).

Yes, I was looking for a job and then I found a job, and heaven knows … strangely I still survive, the simple trick is just to forsake my worthless dignity and liberty. The main theme of this blog is always my whining about jobs and I have more reasons to whine for the present one, but at this sour time I feel like my right of whining is simply not allowed, when the press keep updating the current unemployment rate, at least I got paid now. Maybe all I can do is to save a bit more (who knows I will still be employed tomorrow). I don't want to sound like too humble and lowly, but that's it.

Not everyone is as humble as me. I recently have a dinner with a few friends in college and they spent the whole evening discussing moving to a bigger flat or buying a bigger car (while I never dream of buying a small flat or car), alternated with if they should take up the hsbc's rights issue. I could not take part in any conversation. They must have attained to the level of "successful" if we can categorize the phase of life like an electronic game. I never have the status anxiety as suggested by de botton. Material gain is also not my (main) concern. I just think someday I may lose all my friends if I keep being the same person while all my friends keep "progressing".

It's like I was kept in a time capsule, with the same thoughts, same attitude and same interests (but sadly not the same look). It explains a lot why I was captivated by the Pains Of Being Pure At Heart. Cynical me first dismissed them by their name, "what, so pretentious!" I was wrong, of course. Sweet jaunty guitar immediately brought me back to the good old twee-pop days, the days of the early mbv, stone roses and the field mice, sixteen clumsy and shy. Years pass, it's a bit embarrassing to still hold on the teenage dream, by euphemism I may call myself evergreen and young at heart. So, turn up the volume, i want to be bombed by the sweet guitar noise.

this evening, let us say in my place

"Both are convinced
that a sudden surge of emotion bound them together.
Beautiful is such a certainty,
but uncertainty is more beautiful."


waiting for my roses, suffering from the depression of knowing that i actually cannot make any pilgrimage this year, anticipating the coming overwhelming worship of the gracelands, the fanatic is frenetic. almost breathless. though www.myspace.com/gracewastelands can surely ease a bit of pain.


"時機尚未成熟
成為他們命運的準備
緣分將他們推近，驅離
憋住笑聲
阻擋他們的去路
然後閃到一邊"


we love lovers, back to the square one. or it's the ending fitting for the start. like those pictures of m.c.escher. i feel dizzy. i need szymborska.


"Every beginning
is but a continuation,
and the book of events
is never more than half open."

je sais je sais

We have so much fun in the suicidal way
We were always so clueless together,
We stuck, we laughed and we stuck

I led you up the cobblestone road
I led you to the darkest corner
I led you to be as gruesome and ridiculous as me

Until, you slurred and swerved
and found there's no way back
and said, "thank you" and dropped dead

i love those perfect lies for love to bind

"I wouldn't want for you to come to any harm,
and tell me, if the darkness comes
I will sing you a song and
I will love you forever
or at least till the morning comes"





It's so sweet that I can feel a sour aftertaste

It's so sweet that I can weep for its beauty and delicacy

If you go on with this sweetest chant

I will really fall backwards to fall into your arms

Conversation with devil

Of course I recognised you.

I know your fierceness, anger, violence and, your tenderness, you were once an angel, of course it's no difficult for you to speak the gentle words and hum a sweet rhyme. You never fail to tempt me, sometimes I begged you to stop, for I was and will never as strong and intelligent as you, so let me be the meek and the humble, the innocence and the ignorance. You smiled and said what a hypocrite I was, as in fact it was me who asked you to stop me if I tried to stop you. You laughed at my quest for wisdom, saying that's the origin of sin, for human brain was too defective to think and understand. "Stop!" I begged again. A sense of fear struck into me suddenly, but what was I frightened for? Your evil, clairvoyance or, simply my own weaknesses? "mogwai fear satan" you sneered. I know you like riddles. When you said "happy songs for happy people", did you actually refer to your sad songs for sad people? But I couldn't really fathom that you refer me to one of your titles. You laughed, stating in a matter-of-fact tone that human beings got all the traits of devil except their retarded intelligence. "That is old cliche" I yawned, "yes, we can be cruel, jealous and greedy", that's so trite, you might not be as clever as you claimed. You didn't respond to my mockery, instead, you asked me out for a walk together. We went to a precipice, far above the banal world the cold wind cut me like a razorblade. Under the starry sky, you sang me those celestial songs, echoing the stories before your fall. Suddenly you grabbed my hand and plunged, I was dazzled by the strange rays of light - red, green and white, maddened by the howling of thousands faceless souls, scorched by the inferno fire, I was overwhelmed and possessed, strangled and suffocated, was it a punishment for my rude remark? "No" you said. Everything stopped, at once. You're gone. I returned back to my room. I now understand in addition to cruelty, jealousy and greed, I'm so ambiguous, hesitated, indifferent and numb, breathing but not living, this is so evil like a crime, you pushed me to the extremity, torn me apart, killed but also awaken my senses, meanwhile, I lost my peace of mind.

You are so fierce, angry, violent and tender. Of course I recognise you. I know you are but what am I?


Mogwai @ HITEC, Hong Kong 18.01.09
This is not a video clip actually, cos' i was behind a bunch of westerners, everything is shaky and out fo. this is a audio clip. Personally, it should be "sad songs, stay til the end. Old songs remind me of friends".

the end of the affair

the end of the affair
I really couldn't believe the news. This is the first venue which i came to know, for a long time melody maker/nme reader, i read about its name long before i really got a chance to step inside it.

My most unforgetable memories of it :


farewell to suede
(the tickets must have been overbooked, there were actually too many people, i could see - nothing, but of course that was a great night, a sad night, a celebration night for a great band (which not many people agree), for what they have achieved, for the people there - who claimed themselve as "suede people", those self-centered, self-indulgent but as the same time glamourous people (oh but i'm not saying i am))


farewell to Gemma Clarke
that's the notorious riotous night, the christmas party summoned by babyshambles, the ruined party, i felt bad for gemma (for her drumsets were literally decomposing) and i felt bad for myself (for i went there at 7 to queue and stayed until 2 am without any food and going toilet, tolerating to watch tower of london and forsaking moz for petah) The picture above of course is not the cute gemma, it's "scarborough" steve, one of the guests of that christmas party, the one that only those two boys in the band would think he's cool

i am a dog walking backwards

this is a new year, a new start for me, a new start for you.

actually i don't have any idea for my future or which direction should i turn (directionless so plain to see, a loaded gun won't set you free...) oh, touch wood, yes, this is new year, any negative thought is not allowed. i remember someone who is so clever but not very wise once said that he did not get on with the future, so they just ignored each other. only up till now i understand his words, so he's indeed clever and wise.


before turning a new page in 2009, let me be a dog walking backwards for a few steps and express my deep gratitude for anyone who had showed kindness to me in taipei, singe initially the riddle but then the cute sweetie, ah nan and other suede persons at simple life who took care of me in the absolute choas (well, the choas was not because of brett anderson, it's for the act (soda6) afterwards), and of course (let's clap) the language-master (and multi-functional) ppp who gave me so much which i can hardly articulate, warmed the cold, brightened the grey, spent time with a lonely soul to wander aimlessly or purposefully, enroute or by mistake.


brett anderson, who got the blame and criticism (again) for singing the good old suede, if people who thought brett was just a fallen idol, why did they care to see? You don't need a reason to hate or love someone. i myself think brett was still brilliant, no matter when he sang his solo songs or those suede ones.


jarvis cocker, with english accent and, english humour, still the charming darling, a valentine kept receiving bunches of roses from the crowd, still danced with his unique poses, played dead or watered the roses on stage, his every note and every move was just right, thought the last song (space oddity) which was collaborated with miss yang was a bit weird.

don't do anything don't want to do anything

it proves that this blog was the merely the pastime for office life.

up the angels

I only got the white sport's album recently. While I enjoy much of the angelic voice of andrew aveling and the guitar of patrick walden, the photos inside are so interesting and cute ... those were the days.


Do you remember him? since that kate moss' photos malarkey, he gradually faded away from the scene (whisper: "circus", oh doherty fans don't hit me!), so did he or didn't he? anyway it's all gossip but James Mullord as a founder of High Society Records and later 1234 Records, i really think he did some sort of good job, at least we have that lovely Babyshambles single and all the wonderful music from the white sport, the bishops, whitey, objects, cazals (oh but i can't recognise the recent cazals, what the hell are they doing?) I seem to be a big fans of these two record labels.

Pin-up time:



oh i never saw such a young and healthy patty, sometimes your dear friends can be hazardous to you, lad!!! (again, doherty fans don't hit me!)


oh wasn't he cute? he named himself as "young adam" and he looked really young there, that's 2004 but why did he look 10 years younger? don't get me wrong, now adam is still looking good, just more gentleman-like, less laddish.

So, is Songs The Postman Can Whistle any good? Sure! but if a postman can whistle the songs of this album, he's surely not your ordinary postman, let's blow him a kiss.

Manic Street Preachers @ Star Hall, Hong Kong International Trade & Exhibition Centre 26.11.08

How happiness runs fast! Yesterday my heart kept beating hard because of the excitement that I would see the manics again, seemed like i myself was manic again. It has been a long while i haven't seen their live and i really miss them badly. Dug out my long-hidden feather boa and wondered if I should also put a tiara on (but sadly still with that monotonous and hateful "office lady" outfit, monster!), i became an oddball again. of course things would be much normal if i was in the uk. Hey it was the manics gig and boa, tiara, eyeliner or army coat should be the official dress code for the entry, but no, this was the other side of the globe so i could hardly find another boa lover except the one on stage.

There was not really a big crowd, as the manics was never a darling in this place when they were in their prime, not to say when they all become the chubby middle-aged rockers now. Maybe I was loyal, subjective or blind, or maybe I was so clairvoyant to ignore one's outlook (oh really?) and see the essence of the soul, I still found them utterly cool and powerful (...oh passages of praise, i'm unstoppable and delirious again, my ususal symptoms after meeting those favourite persons of mine). The gig was opened by Motorcycle Emptiness, which got every "real" manics fans high from the start. New and old songs were quite well-balanced, 3 from the latest album (Send The Tiger Away, The Autumn Song, and Your Love Alone Is Not Enough [which i dislike most]), 1 from Lifeblood (1985, oh but i love this album very much), 1 from Know Your Enemy (Ocean Spray), several from their two most popular albums, 1 from Holy Bible (only Faster, not enough!) 1 from Gold Against Soul and 3 from Generation Terrorists. They even performed Motown Junk but since Richey went away, James no longer sang the line of "I laughed when Lennon got shot". I could still see the painful eyes from James whenever there was some reference to Richey between the lyrics (or was it my imagination?), maybe that's because a court order was just granted a few days ago to declare the death of the man (oh no!).

Here I can only jot down what I saw and what i heard, but not quite what I felt/feel. When i finish this entry, i feel my words are so plain and dry, they don't really reflect my feeling at all! and i feel so illiterate now. The more i write, the more uselessness i feel for words and language. Maybe i should simply write: THEY WERE PERFECT. That sums up my feeling and their performance (but Mr Wire no longer dressed himself as a doll, what a pity!)


"This wonderful world for purchase power"

All removables, all transitory

It's a delayed train, delayed shock, delayed reaction, to live, to die, to escape. It still pains me a lot read the news, the formal declaration. 4Real.

The autumn sky is so calm, wide and high, even the dazzling sunshine becomes more gentle, i am speechless in this autumnal tenderness.

i know only music matters, but

It has been a while that I've deserted this garden, time to take out my spade and mower again. I always wanted to make some record of the stuff below but thought it may be too trivial to mention, anyway.

A stylish kid recently told me that he liked polka dots very much, the reason was as expected, because of the polka dots in the eyes (or the sky). I also like polka dots, with the same reason. Those little circles become sort of cool pattern recently but I remember years ago if you wore this pattern (especially the dots with bigger size), you would become a laughing stock as an imitator of the cantonese diva tsui siu fung (why do i know? ... oh please don't ask, it proves that i like this pattern long before the katie song). of course i am not going to write an analysis of polka dots, I just want to list out the stuff I bought totally/mainly for a london band (not include cd magazine or official merchandise). Dig into your closet, are you as idiotic as (or more idiotic than) me?

The essentials:


trilby (i had a nice one but was robbed in glastonbury, really it's a robbery, not stealing)


i don't want to start any blasphemous rumours


polka dots, of course

The relevance:


Converse, actually I bought them because they were cheap and convenient, but then they became libertines-related, good! but now the fashion police said they're no longer "in" or relevant, and those very persons are also no longer wearing them, ha, the relevance becomes irrelevant! tu tu, they're lovely, don't throw them away.


chav's brand scarf, actually that's the first item which i bought solely by virtue of the libertines. After seeing their gig for the first time in my life, i felt like having a metamorphosis(??), my first step was to rush to this chav brand factory outlet in hackney next day to copy their fashion (that's a real low, others' first step probably was to pick up a guitar but mine was to plagiarise & shop). Its colour is not the traditional beige, for i could only afford to get it from the outlet and the beige one can only be available in the shops on high street or oxford street (i.e. the counterfeit).


crimson polo tee, yeah every fans must have it, for the reunion (yo, see, my tee is still with the old logo, the new logo is just too "fatty").
gio gio drug free, this tee is actually quite ugly and too big for me, so that's just a collector item.


Anchor, we (those who sail on the good old ship called ...) recognise each other by the sight of it.


black tie, to wear it with or without a shirt. even a fake tie will do


they are all from my favourite accessories shop in london, i spent too much there, almost uncontrollable. Heart, gin and pirate knife, how can i resist? (peter once had wore a pirate knife necklace from the same brand, yeah! someone follows suit, idiot!)

The irrelevance:


This is the figure from Jimmy Liao and its name is called Peter. I actually think it looks quite like peter and that's why i bought it.


this is somebody's favourite brand for sweets, 'a rebours and haribo


this is a cheap tee from those factory outlets in tsim sha tsui. it bears a name of "vespertine" with somebody's ex-bird, ha! should make it as one of the collection.

the ultimate:


you will probably get abused and teased if you wear it on the street, only idiot will do it but it's the ultimate test for the loyal!!!! should sing myself loyalty song.

They try to sing their wayward song, but oh what a way I found

strange that how you came along, 'cause what i want came out the blue

5:00am in the morning. It's the usual early morning, the usual route which led him back to the place called home. The odour of cigarette and sour alcohol of himself was a bit overwhelming and made him dizzy, actually he already forgot what kind of drinks or substance he had taken last night, or hadn't he? All he remembered was the empty talk and horrible jokes uttered by himself or people around. Empty but memorable, the memorable emptiness, huh, it sounded so contradictory, and absurd, like everything in the world. "Hey, don't be a cynic", he thought to himself. It's just a usual night out, to see the lights, to seek pleasure, "'cause pleasure is what the heart asks first" oh for god's sake, he disgusted his own pretentiousness, "don't quote any emily dickinson, you're not those f__king bourgeois art-school students, oh my, the word bourgeois itself is so bourgeois". He was always proud to be a working class, though actually there was nothing to be proud of. His anger just proved him to be a cynic which he denied earlier, and he was aware of it. He felt the dilemma. Oh even a trivial thought like this could be such intriguing. Easy baby, he was obviously too uptight, too serious. Yes, pleasure please. Pleasure was cheap, was primitive. Kicking leaves on the way back home, he felt the fallen leaves had thickened. Zipped up his jacket, he suddenly realized that winter would come soon, his favourite season.

on the road with you again, saw a stranger life decend

what constitues my favourite album of the year? of course it's not a rocket science so there is no formula. it just fits in/ clicks in/ kicks in. it may not be the most profound, meaningful, cool or melodic album of the year. sometimes my favourite may even be that neglected or forgotten album of the general public. funfairs & heartbreak of special needs and grown-ups of the lodger are respectively my most favourite in 2006 and 2007. it's always difficult to explain your fondness for someone / something so all i can say is that these are the albums i can listen to continuously without getting bored and these albums surely contain some sort of sentiments which get me everytime. Englishness. Melancholy. They get me everytime. when I first listen to Primitive World of Littl'ans, I know this one will be my favourite this year, though i also like that of sigur ros and dirty pretty things (oh yes, i like to rank rasn high, my taste and ears have problem) very much. The voice of Andrew Aveling is so tender and sweet, but he sings the wayward songs, the songs about the (primitive) life in a metropolitan city called London, the metropolitan blue. sometimes their songs remind me of those of the smiths, though Andrew is definitely not as morbid as Moz.

so, i was caged in my head, i was caged in my room, i was caged in the city, i have no particular person to meet, I have no particular thing to do, i just get on this ennui by playing the songs i like in my head, and i find freedom in my cage.

"Looked out
to the street up till now
at the crowd
through my window
sang along to the song
that played out
in my head laid in bed
watched the day go"

- Our Way, Littl'ans


Primitive World - Littl'ans

beware! beware! his flashing eyes, his floating hair!

A heart shouldn't be stolen too often, too much. I was already mesmerised by some, who make my life empty but rapturous, so if i was to grasp with reality the so-called normality day-to-day 9-6 no alarms no surprises work life reality, i should avoid indulging myself too much in any sedative material, but as i declared from day one by the name of the blog, i of course would not mind if my heart was stolen again in the neptune's dawn.

bian yuan the minstrel all at sea, together with polka dots liu hao, wicked xiao hong and prince of cuteness guan zheng, the beijing 4 pieces Joyside have made a very brief dragonfly visit to hong kong on 10/10. Shambolic and dynamic, in this moment joyside is absolutely beautiful, they are eager to have everything, they want the world, but at the same time they don't give a fuck to everything, to the world. They once said that what they wanted was our money, but i think it is our soul, or at least our sanity, is what they want. Click to douban and read those frenetic love letters/memoirs from their (male) fans/friends, you will see what i mean, they have the magic to turn their fans either to a chronic drunkard or a sentimental novelist. They may grow bigger, stronger, conquer the world or just remain to be your favourite tavern band, who knows about tomorrow? For sure in this very moment they burn so bright that sometimes i doubt their flame may scorch them inside like sister lunatic. Musically, they strike me as very new york dolls punk (or glam?), but of course i shouldn't categorise them as i only have their latest album and ep. They played most of the songs in Booze at Neptune's Dawn in the gig of hong kong and ended with 20th Century Boy. "Could I revive within me, her symphony and songs, to such a deep delight it would win me." Yes, this gang of gin from beijing does remind me of Coleridge, intoxicated and sentimental. Captivated, let me close my eyes with holy dread, for I on honey-dew hath fed, and drunk the milk of Paradise.

In one of their interviews the bassist Liu Hao once said, "truthfulness, wilfulness and sensitivity are what the band have in common and those have stayed unchanged", so no matter they really become big or just remain to be the favouite of d-22 in the future, this is the word, remember.




Though the beijing 4 pieces probably would only quote johnny thunders as their influence, yes, i deliberately draw the reference to another london 4 pieces, the influence was certainly there.



xiao hong and bian yuan


(thanks for the mini cd mr nowhere, my mandarin was too shit, sorry, i really like to watch you/your band again)

All farewells should be sudden

1 Oct 2008, a bank holiday, I was tidying up my messy bookshelves and drawers as usual (my routine on every holiday without any accomplishment), I decovered an old notebook which I used in london, within which there's some doodling, hand-drawn maps (couldn't afford to buy a proper A-Z London map), addresses, websites, unknown passwords, phone numbers. While i was musing about this pile of nostalgic yellowed and bug-bitten paper, i saw a monstrous black bug , i lost my head, killed it, was nervous if there were more inside, struggled if to throw it away or keep it whatsoever. sadly the decision was to throw it away, but I was feeling some part of me was being thrown away also. i cling to history and memory. a bad omen.

and evening came i read that news about the split of dirty pretty things. Yes, i want to write some sort of memorial but first, i was too shell-shocked to collect any thought, and then, I mean now, i become too calm to write anything. once you accept the fact, you lost the tragic feeling.

carlos barat is always regarded as the second best when being compared to peter doherty. I always try to be equal, as I think both gentlemen are equally important to the whole legend of that albion-arcadia stuff. The cruel fact is, dirty pretty things sells less than babyshambles. Fate. Blame it on the black star. Or personality decides the fate. Insecure and self-doubt, i could sense his uneasiness whenever he's on stage and this disoriented feeling proved to be interactive and reflective. maybe it explains why the gigs of dirty pretty things was never as exciting as babyshambles'.

having said that, i never doubt the craftsmanship of his songs writing. Personally, i love their latest album Romance At Short Notice more than their debut Waterloo To Anywhere. The frustration and anger in Waterloo To Anywhere is a bit too much and even my ears can taste the sour. Romance At Short Notice is on the other hand more playful, it fits so well for the noble aburdity of its members. I always like their propensity for foolery. Acutually one of those classic libertines moments are their silly mimics and farce. The tortured poets take their miserable existence by the sheer light-heartedness... aye, i start talking gibberish again. Pop and catchy songs with a few sincere moments, Romance At Short Notice is definite one of my favourite albums this year. Its commercial disaster is something I can never fathom.

so long, dirty pretty things, thanks for three years of good music. i wish all of you have a bright future cos' you definitely deserve to have one.




what? i said your concerts were less exciting as babyshambles? no no, i actually love the indie boys stripped shows.

you know you wanna run away

... but i don't expect you to run away so fast

all the best.

monday or tuesday

Lazy and indifferent, I went to office as usual, reading woolf online, as usual. so silent that i could only hear my own thought, if i was not too drowsy and transcending to other space. What did I come in here for? What did I want to find? My hands were empty. no more gibberish, no one wants poetry.

i like storm. crazy downpour and strong gust of wind, nature's periodic mischief, reminder of man as insect (insignificant, inept, useless and sometimes disgusting), but the time before storm is real horrendous, as if there is no more oxygen left in this planet, i can't breathe, i melt.

prayer for the rain, prayer for the storm, prayer for an extra morning to sleep late.(news that signal 8 will be hoisted at about 6:00pm, too soon too fast, so what will be tomorrow morning?)

Lazy and indifferent, actually i've got work to do, but it's just too boring so i opt to type all these meaningless words in blog. butterfly effect from lehman bros financial crisis? probably not, this office has its internal ulcer long before, but of course the situation is now "frost on the ice". there is/was earthquake in my office, this time i whine for the job, next time will i whine for not having job... too horrible to think about, for the one who needs money badly.

I always think i should be shinji in neon genesis evangelion (i like/hate him cos he is so similar to me, the useless whiner and coward) but the test said i am rei (i also don't like her, she is a "natural-born" masochist) so i do it again, just change one answer (actually i'm not sure about the answer) and the result is pen-pen, great, i love that drunk penguin.





What Neon Genesis Evangelion character are you?

let's put our futures behind us

"他們一起生活，共同創作，穿彼此的衣服，分享一切，包括死亡。"

so their story does not turn out to be like this, which we should be glad, though I thought it probably would be that way if they continue to live together, it's always dangerous to be too obsessive and intense.


"Take me to the place where you go
Where nobody knows, if it's night or day"

and by the way, i am just reading the biography of joe orton, and maybe my soul has slided away a bit, 'cause I have put my life in the hands of a dear rock n' roll band.

大隱隱於市

When did brett anderson become a laughing stock in the eyes of nme and its followers? I wonder if they have really paid any attention to his work. Without listening, verdict was already given that brett was no longer relevant or what they so-called "cool". For those who don't (or don't want to) understand this man but keep criticising him please just f--k off.

But I don't know if I understand this man either, though I'm still fond of him. If the first solo album was brett's declaration of his weariness of the music industry, the second one was surely a further step away from the usual game, yes, a step into the wilderness. Just a cello, a piano, guitars and human voices, sheer minimalism and DIY, simple but beautiful. Brett still drowned in his own little bleak world, sometimes blessed in the motherly tenderness, but mostly feeling hurt, by the shattered relationship, lovers of malicious exchange (Clowns), lingered as stale stagnation (Chinese Whispers) and eventually turned to long-lost perfect strangers (Knife Edge), for brett there was no future in love. It's personal but not necessarily trivial. People cringed at the lyrics like "war machines rust eternally" or "clowns tumbling into town", which I think they were beautiful imagery. It's the same old self-indulgent brett anderson, using his sci-fi words for his loveless love songs. My favourite song of the album remains to be "Back to You", the solo version was issued in the ep last year (remember that sad cartoon mv?) and i have the pleasure to hear it performed in the hong kong gig last year. Here the song was duet with Emmanuelle Seigner, a calm and estranged vocal, perfectly matched with the grey sky of brett.

The aged diva finally stepped down the stage and wiped away the last trace of her make-up. oh, the diva is in fact a man, witthered and wrinkled. Farewell to the psycho for sex and glue, now brett is a lonely man alone in his back garden, blessed in the void of London's wilderness, edifies to a different place, or wanders to Serpentine, musing on eternity expressed with every word, every breath. yes, may i call brett a dharma bum?


Brett Anderson - Wilderness
(i really love all those lonely photos of this album)