hah! only 1 more day before my work email ceases to exist. imagine my glee when i found this sitting in my inbox!!

I like small surprises…and Stathis "Mister Greek Lightning" is the star of our goodwood event…and of course Mr Atkinson is the even bigger star. Although I think Atkinson is trying to keep his smile down because Stathis’ grin is simply bordering on dangerous - could give a pitbull a run for its dog tag. and check that fly suit (on Mr Atkinson of course)

Back to school - in line with getting into the swing with business terminology…We Are Scientist’s Cash Cow - thats a rocking track - reminds me of Manic Street Preachers…who said musicians are uneconomic in nature?!actually, come to think of it, the music business is totally uneconomic - everyone has loads of fun but no one gets paid - except Britney spears.

TDK Cross Central is upcoming this bank holiday weekend. Hot Chip and Ladytron are playing and Gordy from Bloc Party is spinning - with a whole host of other multimedia fx and shows going on. sounds awesome…and they lowered the ticket prices too - due to a boo boo with a stage that was improperly constructed and had to be stripped down.

check out these videos!! Ladytron: i love i love… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncl7New1czM I am pysched to watch Ladytron, having missed them in Boston 2 years ago and this is like a coming-of-age 2 years late. Which is not quite the greatest bedlam story I heard though…Richard (of uber cool Vital records - see Richard, i am quoting you - begin the blog war mutha!) was relating a story yesterday about the Pixies finally playing in London 14 years after they mentioned they would play London. The gig was a nightmare, with The Pixies literally running off the stage because the audience was so manic. That is what 14 years of pent-up frustration can do to you. to get to this state, one can either sign up to be a banker or wait 14 years for The Pixies. i take the latter!

Hot Chip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHB9F8tvGVM. need i say more?

this is da deal. Sara, Richard and I stumbled across this Mexican cafe in Westbourne Grove. http://www.timeout.com/london/restaurants/reviews/8100.html Taqueria is the shit. with a wide array of small palm-sized tacos, including fish tacos (that is RARE!) and the meanest magaritas around…for all mexicana aficiendos out there…u must go. The tequila shots that come with a side of fresh tomato juice - yummy… and they serve some crazy chilli powered roasted seeds….that put your throat on fire but addict in every way possible.

recount: juggling ripping my latest cds, updating the blog and deciding if my haircut is indeed a window of diasaster…mostly the window of disaster wins hands down. check out the latest shopfront fringe - heavy on the front and light everywhere else. just kidding.

Saturday was a rainy and by all counts…shitty day. But I managed a walk that covered Plimlico (across the bridge - by Vauxhall) and down south in search of brixton and clapham. a brave trek, especially for one such as myself, that has been fully made fit through coupious 12 hour chair-sitting marathons. still, i am grossly and waywardly persuaded by Shota, who thinks that everyone is capable of walking and i take my tired and dog-like nature and shuffled along. it wasnt all bad, considering we find some gems, a portugese restaurant with delicious gelao coffee and meatballs, with some kind of gourmet potatoe shaping - the kind that your mum tries to do when she has guests, to impress them but kinda leaves everyone bewildered at why you intended to make the mash that way anyways.

recount: it was a random day where anything goes. but not everything goes, as this salsa, wine, noodle and karaoke place shows. the idea of all-in-one solution rarely works. not everything in life is a mustafa center analogy.

recount: people as robots do work occasionally. Shotron is back, by popular demand. it cooks, cleans and sometimes is made to entertain guests by climbing trees. and no subscription to robot unions. this bot comes unthethered

recount: however, there are some random things that do work…TAVINGSTOCK! victor and darren took a full hour to convince us that karaoke was the way to go. being all karaoke virgins, i was hesitant, after all, what if i discovered unwittingly that i had a burning desire to sing ABBA, decide to thrash the mba, run away to a circus and make the freak show version of mama mia (i would definitely wear more striped stockings, that’s for sure)? Still, victor stole the show with his style, darren with his newly found rap voice and peishan…was peishanko. microphones are dangerous things in the hands of the wrong people. very dangerous things - mixing Boom shakaluk and frank sinatra’s My way can go…wrong.

scene from tavingstock - one of our fave hangouts.

a singer he grows up to be…check out that star-like sheen of sweat. victor a go go!

is that conviction, or is that conviction.  gimme da mike buster! that be the Point-and-rock dance move - very much utilized in boy band videos of yesteryear.

Peishanko!

still the master of karaoke can only be of japanese origin. if there is one thing japanese are good at, its ninja and karaoke…the rest is a myth. *sniff*. so shotron, ninja bow to your greatliness - i have never seen someone sing My Way while performing a headspin but then, i am hardly a well-honed karaoke machine. must plan next week’s moves - which will include more dance, more spunk and even cheesier tunes. Air Supply gets my best bet for success.

despite the tragedies that are taking place in so many parts of the world…we must all dance….just like this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EP6s9MEoQw&mode=related&search=

r u talented enough?

apologies for the tardiness at updating the blog. But, one can only have that much bandwidth trying to juggle a multitude of slides with far too many figures at size 8 font, and trying to be smart or meaningful about life in general. there have been no new pictures, and very little gig updates, beyond spending an incredulous amount of money at fopp records buying everything that is new and exciting.

last night was pretty impressive, with me breaking glasses at whatever drinking establishment i went to…and i am not even greek. Axis is a pretty bar down by Temple/ Strand area, followed by a crazy hunt for a Korean bbq restaurant. Not to mention the low point that follows when the restaurant manager thinks you are korean I dont have anything against skinny girls with large blocky heads…it’s just depressing to know that you might be one of those, sans the skinny part. this was followed by heading to The Fly at new oxford for another rock night out - a cute bar with the best white russians i have had in a LONG time. with final presentations over and 1 more week to the end of the internships - i am counting down the days and trying to catch up with the world. It’s terrible when one has no collective memory of the past 2 weeks or even missed knowing that a Straits Times reporter is being held for treason in beijing. The commies are sunny that way, you know what i mean.

at some point in time, i feel like i need to compile a best of. this could cover everything from best of summer songs, best bars, best gigs, best clubs, best fried chicken joint (PFC, yeah, u know me…and no, P does not stand for pakistani, its Perfect Fried Chicken - followed closely by its poor imitater AFC - American Fried Chicken)

so hollar out that there is still a bit of summer left. hollar hollar that the A level results just got released and a whooping 24% of britain’s 18 yr olds scored an A in Math - i mean….that seems a tad unimpressive to me being from singapore (there was no one in my college that DIDNT score an A) but hey, if there is any country more devoid of feelings but has a penchant for stylised learning of numbers - thats singapore. in fact, there is no country more stylized and templatised than singapore. but we are definitely sunnier than beijing.

it’s been 2 weeks of general madness and mayhem. i have very little to say about the world at large, and even less to say about the data crunching that is going on in my life. trying to make sense of x multiples and cash flows has confused my brain somewhat and made my face feel oily from stress. the lack of sleep could be a factor as well. but i am not sure exactly. maybe i am just hormonal. I am convinced that my life is a visual representation of The great escape.

crunching down to the end of the internship = nothing but sighs of relief and RELEASE. being hi-jacked at 7pm to do powerpoint edits will soon be a thing of the past. as a quick recount, here are my top 5 most awful experiences so far:

- being asked to come back to work (and start work on a new piece of work) at 9pm, AFTER my haircut

- being asked to stay around to do powerpoint edits, which ended up with me hanging around till 9pm, only to be told that the work got farmed out to the powerpoint department

- being told that i could leave by 9pm but then got handed a new piece of analysis at 830pm, keeping me till 11pm (sorry Sara, i missed your drinks party as a result) and the analysis got trashed in the end

- having 2 project teams come to you simultenously all wanting their stuff 5 minutes ago

- having to change the same slide 14 times - because the colours were disagreeable to every single person in the food chain looking at it (slide got trashed in the end, i could have told you that would be the hateable slides’ imminent fate)

so what’s next. am relieved that its friday, am relieved that there is a PIMMs at the end of the road and sad that the weather today is effectively rubbish, but as long as i am not in the office - that is a great day.

A quick zip through Friday night’s David Bowie bash and over to the bourgeorsie of a day…at the horse races! A bunch of us manky summer interns got the chance to taste the high life at an all expenses paid day, mingling with rich at our own private table. This was such an awkard contrast to the previous night’s reveleries, which consisted mostly of discount shopping and the promotion of stylised or conceptualized dressing more than anything. My worst nightmare: having to dress like a laura ashley pin up girl. We were told to wear flat shoes, proper dresses that did not bare shoulders and…a hat. I had to get mine for £10 down at a vintage store - with lace and everything. (can’t get away from discount shopping) As the brits would say…"it was most fetching". Men were advised to wear summer suits and a hat. It’s all cute and gentry-like, but hardly the stuff for an indie chick with a street background ;P

This is my worldview on high society. It is an investment…of time, of money (in order to make more money or at least buy yourself a title) and possibly, a loss of self identity - doing what the gentrified consider prim and proper can be painful. On time, to get to the Goodwood races takes 2 hours in a bus…with no surprises, it comes with drinks on board. we love these corporate buses. Martin, who had clocked a 5.30am just 3 hours before…shows us his sleeping beauty pose.

  (surely one should reconsider the banking lifstyle, because that is one sleepy minger!!)

I dont know what satheesh’s good reason is for sleeping but he is definitely Mr safety first and he purposefully bought a hat for the races (see, investment again!)

  (I am starting to see a trend…bankers = sleepers on buses with full board)

we are sternly reminded that we are now a bit part of high society. Man i am NOT HAPPY that i can’t do my MC hammer moves in my ball dress. Bleah…boring!the grass is too pretty not to lie on. It took me 10 minutes of sales pitching to convince the other kids to lie on the grass with me! I want to test what they exactly mean by "unsocial behaviour". guess farting is not allowed.

  The races are a funny place. I see old men walking around with a stack of £20 bills, betting £200 pounds on a horse. The money that flows from inebriated beings is fast and furious. At the end of the day, the rules to betting on horses = if you like the bugger’s name, you buy it.

It’s interesting and the conversation that permeates the air is not one where people talk about how much money they have, but surprisely…how little they have! Snippets of convos overheard include things like "Yes, i was not comfortable to go that dinner with them, I would feel out of place, yes…because of who they are?" Hmmm, suspicious. This is strike back of the big cupboard theory - the bigger your cupboard, the more clothes you have. I guess when you are rich, you never think it’s enough. either that, or its the insecurity of the nouveau riche rearing its ugly head.

Hat swap required!! i think we look better if we swapped hats.

Friday night…finally I get a call from Jackie - conceivably, the first Inseader who has ventured a call to head out to a night of drinks with me! Not that I am disliked or anything, but the events I handpick can get slightly out of the norm. Friday’s event was to Cubes & Stars, a freebie night that only plays…that’s right - the best and most danceable of David Bowie’s tracks. The whole night. The DJ crew consisted of 4 boys that looked like the updated version of Flock of Seagulls (hairstyles included). 1 Cyndi lauper was spotted and 1 psuedo-boy george. electro rules!

all round happiness! To the sounds of Rebel rebel: me and jackie!

  as usual, peishan’s unbeatable uber coolness.

Club scene:

chicks on speed??

photo album

The world in which i exist (not live) currently is one long and surreal ass-kick (was trying for butt-fuck but realized it might be offensive to some). it’s been a week long of 4ams where the body reaches the bed in a tired mangled frame. i wake up drooling with a pillow over my head, still dressed from yesterday’s clothes, and run to work with no perfume nor having combed my hair. of course, i seldom comb my hair but since i was a professional for the summer, i brought along a comb for emergencies. still, haven’t had a chance to properly utilise it though.

The world of banking is horribly unapologetic for loving money, screwing people over and living out the putrid existence of "i am just here for another 3 years, then i make my money and get out". this statement, is always said with a look of sadness, like everyone knows that it is 3 years of a great life (and youthfulness) that you miss out on, but still, the money is too good to turn down. do i subscribe to this bourgoise attitude? i really can’t, i think it breeds a sense of displacement and everyone lives in an inflated world of richness, constantly forgetting that there is 99% of the world out there just making regular joe salaries or that humanity, humour and the ability to communicate are also sides to a personality; beyond material wealth. so thank god for my humble friends that keep me grounded, otherwise i would just die from an inflated ego and thinking that what i do for 18 hours a day is ACTUALLY important. (hint: its not. making slides, ticks, checks and writing excel macros is really not important. its just visually appealing.)

my disgruntled behaviour is probably appalling and inappropriate, given that i did choose to do this job and that by gravity, what is happening in the world out there is much more grevious than my 4am all-nighter. which is why i struggle with the surreality of my existence. how people can be so focused on numbers and spreadsheets at 2am in the morning while there are others out there fleeing for their lives? i feel most ashamed. it’s finding the balance in the flux of this life bewildes me, which i suspect will continue to plague me somewhat. Running through the office at 11pm last night, i see a bunch of analysts hunched over a computer screen - looking quite suspicious. i was certain that i could spring them for watching porn or something…turns out they were salivating over properties and checking out real estate prices. bleah…no fun there.

i think i need a beer now and its only 1pm in the afternoon. the day has just begun and the war mongers are in place for a play. lives are lost in so many ways…which leaves me much to ponder about. me? i am just trying to surive the macho machine with irrascible jokes. having officially changed the investment banking takeover lingo of poison pills, white knights etc to include "flying umbrellas", "golden turkeys" and "alien invasions", i think i am on my way outta this building. but maybe the MDs will find me funny enough to keep me in a small pillbox at the corner of the office - kinda like a jack-in-the-box, where it’s one of those things you can’t throw away cos your Aunt Sue gave it to you, and occasionally, you think you want to open it up and when you do, you wonder what the hell you did that for….? yup, thats me and my take on the summer…and the war.

any self-respecting party-goer must go! Bloc Party, Ladytron, Cut Copy, Hot Chip…1990s, Giles Petersen - brilliant!!!! see you all there

http://www.tdkcrosscentral.co.uk/