it feels relatively good to be back in school, back into the hood, of great friends, good laughs and sinking deep into coursework. my 2 weeks away has made me forget how many friends i have at Insead and how many people are just simply amazing. In a matter of 2 days, I have caught up with people’s careers, exchanging gossip on companies and talking through courses, personal projects and Insead activities.

I can’t believe it but I have overloaded myself with courses again. I find myself adling up to yet another professor requesting to audit a class. I have something like 5 or 6 classes, it’s pretty ridiculous - i am back in P1 again. My mind needs to be kept busy and yet, i find myself drifting into space in Leveraged Buyouts. keeping it together in one piece has been difficult, i find myself sobbing sometimes, overwhelmed with emotion. I get asked to DJ for the Winter Ball, and i am in two bits about doing it - because Chateau parties are hard and my musical taste can border on the arcane. and we are in the midst of planning the next SFTM. And Cabaret…and the workload piles up pretty much. And i find myself getting more and more involved in school, after all, it’s our last shot for making a difference. And i hope to make a difference, because that is how we all are - B-schers that hope to change the world. I jest.

I have, ahead of me, a night of contemplation. moving into final interviews this week and the next, and hoping that by the end of the month, i will have a set direction in life, which would allow me to plan my next steps. I am thinking back to music school, scales and jazz classes for at least 2 months.  It would be an awesome way to once again take part in something that has been such a big part of my life, growing up. Or language courses, so that i can nail that bitch called French.

but until then, i am back to practising my DJ-ing skills. Am making a call for new records and am psyched that my car now has a connecter (which i specially ordered in french…am i good or what?) for my ipod.

am now thinking of laksa, and curry fishead. My free ticket from SIA expires soon - where should I be?

hard drive cleanup. given everything that’s gone down recently, i thought it would be a great idea to note down a coherant chunk of my life and remember some of the places, people, funny moments and friends that have been important in my life journey right up till Insead. i am still missing a large number of people, either people who have shared their lives with me, spent time with me, rocked gigs or clubs, did funny and strange things with me or just sat around listening to me whine endlessly.

Maybe it’s all good…after all.

Melbourne: Sveinung, PJ and moi - bathing in the sunlight. This was one of those brillant days where the sun was out, we had ice-creams, smoked some in the streets and went to the beach. such brillant moments are hard to come by.

Noel: my perennial inspiration. not many people i know are as free-spirited or as loving as noel. although he always feels a tad disappointed that i have taken the road more travelled and became a corporate slab rat. We used to talk beckett and exchange poems. not many people can have lit teachers as cool as noel

My fave pic of Minna - but she hates it…dunno why. but if i ever have a life question, i know minna has an answer.

My fave girls: Ally, Yenny and one hell of a dusty street in Myanmar. we always have special meetings, mostly involving KFC since we are the only 3 girls in singapore that don’t diet. but this trip was whacked out…between having no money (in myanmar, go figure), to getting tricked on bus rides…i think only yenny was happy cos she got to gouge on fruit throughout the trip.

Berlin - one of those random locations for the Tri-year annual Berganite meeting between lost souls. Johan and Michi…best!

happy new year!

PJ and Tina - making up the best looking block of girls in bergen. Bergen is my hideout home…whenever things go bad, i just head north

Cecilia looking pensive     

i love this pic with peter - some time in new york when i could still jump…one of those lazy afternoons where we sit around talking about jobs, life in NYC and help peter plan his marriage proposal to zen.

Ginette - my fave gal (just before Radiohead coming on at SummerSonic in Tokyo). too much history there to relate but there’s a lot!

Ling - one of the most brillant girls ever…doctor to be:) we practically grew up together and it’s always weird and great to know that your friends can get splatter far and wide.

Dooks and Ally - dooks who tried to teach me snowboarding but failed since i was a dud student to begin with. I remember growing up and everyone mistaking us for sisters - just because we both have 2 left feet and a lousy boy-catching technique. (ie. failure rate very high).

James and Terence! another one of those crazed party nights - where we won our first million (monopoly dollars).

Joe an Fuzz - that’s 50% of Singapore’s music scene right there…just kidding.

and paddy, without which there would not be musicforgood.

Chloe - the best facial meister…always an inspiration - especially when you need tips on how to act like a toaster.

marvin, caught in the act - nothing new and unusual, manic Hendrix fan. I try to keep up.

Aud and Eva - ever dependable and ever gorgeous - on my birthday at raffles city. People have different groups of friends, and these are my real-city gal pals. the types that spa, lunch and know how to match cutlery and tableware. so much to learn…

Eunice! always a beacon of light.

shin - in her most awesome balanciagia… top (ok, i dont even know how to spell it, whatever, cant afford it anyways). its hard to imagine how i have known shin for like…wow…since i was 10. ever present in my neurological cycle - i would not trust anyone else to plan any event, give advice on colours or sit around and laugh at fashion disasters.

Elina - one of those sunny breakfast days in Nottinghill.

Kenneth and me in some shady place in little india - smoking shishah after work. can’t believe he’s married and so fucking in love. i am jealous.

  justin and me - i remember very little of this night. actually, i dont even know where this is, but it doth appear that we are dancing. meet singapore’s meanest keyboardist.

  the motley crue - out and about to watch our fave bands at HardRock - local of course…fuzz, paddy and CK.

  wah lao, act cool sial!

I am still missing a lot of people. which has evoked a new to-do, i think i need to run a portrait snapping drive to capture everyone. I am missing VIPs like Kai, Ery, Ramlan (my band buddies), Abery, Justin, Douglas etc etc… this has been a great mental exercise and a wonderful road down nostalgia. very very neccessary indeed.

Aix-en-provence, or the AEP, as I’d like to call it is a sweet little town, tiny, even in comparison to Fontainebleau. It’s quiet, picturesque and the streets are illuminated by shades of brillant yellows. The autumns trees are shedding themselves, all over the tree-lined rues and there aren’t many tourists. It’s the Cezanne arts festival, with artisans selling wares, cinemas showing cool arthouse flicks and art shops hosting all sorts of paintings.

My hotel in AEP is a vast contrast to the dinginess of my suite in Lyon. I have somehow found myself in a hotel where the average age is 65, of british couples, on full board, on their silver (or even better, their diamond) aniversary. I am the only seul individual who has a head of non-white hair. The hotel room is huge, a sparkling bathtub, with a heated pool. The sun shines fiercely in AEP, and i get a facial tan, lying by the poolside. I pack my things and head into town, with my camera and do a walkabout. I taste the best fucking croissant in the world - i feel like crying, because it’s crispy, buttery and sweet to the taste. A rare occasion that i enjoy a crossiant as good as this, from a pastry shop, simply called "Boulangerie". French is sexy indeed, after all, they get away with making the most mundane names sound hot. I mean, Boulangerie is like "cake shop" and "Rue de Beaux Arts" is like "Nice Art Street". I mean, it sounds sucky in English but very cool en Francais. And so, the french get away with a lot of things: Existentialism, Impressionaism, Intellectualism and Socialism.

I cant even begin to describe how beautiful the weather is and how serene, pastoral and quiet Aix-en-provence is. It is a romantic town, and even better if you have a car to head out to the countryside. The sun shines warm till 5pm in the evening and by then, it retracts quickly as people start packing up from the cafes to head out for dinner, switching from cafe cremes to kirs.

I see sunflowers - not quite the countryside but whatever.

very blue skies. BT must have been thinking about this when they penned the rave track, Blue Skies. no pun intended.

Laundry in the wind.

My new pen-pals. After asking me to take pictures of them, we sit, chat and we promise to write to eachother. Very funny indeed. bridging the age barrier i am.

3-on-3. one tap for every man.

In the hot, hot October sun.

The space between. a very large one indeed.

Cezanne-approved university slab. Hey, cant get better than that.

The sky is so blue, this is amazingly pretty.

a modernesque prison palace. Palais Monclair. Interesting concept.

Edible shrooms, they are so huge - i have never imagined something like that before.

Anticipant children. Who can say no to a carousel ride? At La Rotonde.

Fly me to the moon…from the top of a roof. At the Palais de Justice.

my dream man, with his dream haircut. definitely cannot say no.

a window to stare into. reminds me of old flats in Tiong Bahru estate in Singapore. told u france is the malaysia (ok, singapore) of europe.

back to fonty tomorrow…and straight into the deep hell of corporate restructuring.

album: http://sideshowjudy.blogs.friendster.com/photos/2006_aix_en_provence

peace out world.

Lyon is a pretty city separated by 2 rivers, the Rhone and the Saone (am missing the accents here but you get my drift). It’s also France’s gastronimical hub, although i feel like kicking myself hard in the face because in my 2 days there, i have had…yes you guessed it - 1 meal. I did order another meal but didnt eat it and I did give in to the tantalizing calls of a MacD’s sundae. But that’s it - and it’s not because the food is bad, the food is great and the city is great - but after a near week of starvation, my first introduction back to solids was pied de porc (or pork feet). For some reason, i thought that it would be like pork knuckles, with some meat but this was literally pork feet - even by my high chinese standards, a far reach.

like all dutiful asians, i photograph my food, despite not eating it. well, i tried but the fatty flavour of the pork and the gelatinous feel was a too strong for my stomach. I love all things pork but am not sure why my stomach is rejecting this. Officially, this put me off food for a long time (at least the next 24 hours). and i could not help but barf. Nothing keeps me going except coffee and kirs. A drastic alternation between the two and asprins for my hangovers at night. Cest comme ca…

Summer is all around in Lyon, it’s madness. 27 degrees and blazing. I am sweating as I canvass the city looking for good photos. Vieux Lyon is beautiful, serene and less bustling than Paris by a large margin. There is a book sale on the sides of the Saone on Saturday and I spend my time, flicking through french books, everything from Satre, Freud to political socialism. I read a lot and i drink a coffee every 2 hours. I hunt for cafes and my prey is un l’autre cafe. I have been writing a lot and this few days have been an adventure in its own right. it almost feels like Insead is a world and away. I forget about DCFs, value creation and stock prices for 48 hours. It feels great - suddenly i realize that in another 2 months, this would be how i would feel. Like a human again, wtih some personal space, time and culture.

Lyon has an interesting dynamic. Part cultural and picturesque but goth, rock and punk is huge here. I walk past the Terreaux and all i see are musical instrument stores and goth clothes. I remember during my exchange program, there was a goth student, named Guillaume (he only wore black and had a long leather trenchcoat - very Underworld-esque) and he was from Lyon (into black metal) and erh…yeah. I guess, it’s STILL the rage. And record stores abound, all the rare and old 60’s records are to be found in Lyon. Reggae, jazz, funk and soul are huge. I think Benoit would be happy here. I go to the Hot Jazz bar - it’s interesting, Lyon is littered with piano bars - how quaint - who hears that anymore? I walk into a piano shop and play a Steinway - i salivate, that has to be the first thing i buy when i become rich (if ever), even if it’s to play Chopsticks on a Steinway & Sons piano. But when I am rich, who is to say anything?! 

Lyon, lyon - it’s colours are rich, bright and almost romantic. I stay in a B&B that has paper-thin walls. I have the utmost luck of having rambucious neighbors. The sex goes on all night in different moaning ways. I feel grumpy and wake up to douse myself with a grand creme just to feel sane again. and…take photos. This trip has allowed me to try and employ more structure into my photography. I am gunning for straight lines and searching for depth in my composition. It’s harder when you have focus, the delivery and execution has to be tighter and i still feel that my photos have some ways to go. still, it’s a good time for experimentation, change and a different outlook.

A late october with warm weather? I almost feel like this is a mass sign for change. Perhaps, life as I know it, will be different…soon enough If anything, this is how i feel.

My soundtrack to Lyon consists of: Billy Bragg "This is how it feels to be lonely, this is how it feels to be small, this is how it feels when your world means nothing at all…" - anyone remembers that tune?? Tori Amos’ "Your Cloud" gets my vote. We Are Scientists "I get hit" is on my Lyon playlist, together with Ane Brun - fucking A - she is brillant beyond belief. And some strange Japanese band who covered Sting’s "Shape of My Heart", in Japanese of course. very weird - how does this shit get on my ipod??

whole album: http://sideshowjudy.blogs.friendster.com/photos/2006_lyon/

Anyways, I am off to Aix-en-Provence today. The hotel receptionist congratulates me by saying, "Aix-en-provence is very beautiful! It is very romantic." Now i really feel on top of the world, must the single and the lonely (who ironically are attempting to get away from being single and lonely) suffer this way? fucking hell.

School was pretty quiet today - almost eerily so. My first corporate restructuring class was a head-turner, once again, i am punishing myself with yet another finance class…at 830 too. And we get quizzed most painfully about value creation methods. i draw blank. Still, the sun was hot and it was actually hot (global warming people…) and i headed into Paris, fully intent on soaking up the sun, take pictures and of course, pay a visit to the Musee d’Orsay. Armed with my camera and a determined frown, i haul ass to Musee D’orsay and am only too happy to get a youth discount because I look under 26. how brilliant is that? Thank god for asian skin.

pottering the musemum is always a funny thing. only because it’s filled with people like me, who dont know shit about art but we merely appreciate it in some kind of morbid and flacid way. There is a scene in Gustave Flaubert’s Sentimental Emotion - where Frederic is in an art gallery with his uneducated mistress in (gasp)…Fontainebleau and she remarks in an absurb way, "All this brings back memories." Hahaha…as i scan through the hallways of 19th century Impressionism art, exclaimations abound. "I am just soooooo absorbed in all the colours of this room." I love it when people speak with confidence and say things like "This is a GREAT painting. Look at the shade of blue.  Very interesting" - to prep for your investment banking interview, just start out practicing with nebulous lines like that - excellent for sounding involved, intelligent but not saying very much.Some found the 20th century cop out display of hanging chandaliers a lot more enticing than the sculptures or the paintings and possibly secretly pining that Ikea will one day profliferate 20th century art decor light fixtures. (we can only hope). My favorite moment is when the 16 yr olds whip out their cameras to photograph all the nude art - probably gasping at how fat and blubber like women used to be. i would give an arm and a leg to go back to a double-chinned society, except without the flush system, i find that extremely grim.

It was a refreshing reacquaintance with Monet, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Degas. Not that Impressionism is my favorite kind of art but i do appreciate the sense of motion and the outdoor scenes, which was a drastic move from the studio work and in-door portraitures of that period. And it feels quite cool to know that all these painters were spurned by a Parisian type movement. But, having said that, i am not too much into pastoral scenes (especially over-dramaticized ones), just like my taste for poetry. There are scenes of Parisian dining in late 19th century, and the cafes look the same as today, except people are wearing bird feathers, can-can skirts and have a lot of boob. The paris of today is about gamine waifs, girls with tousled hair, an irritatingly "au natural soft focus look", in tiny tees and skinny jeans - everyone looks like a Calvin Klein advertisement. It’s weird and paradoxical but time does that. again, bring on the fat ladies - plueeze! Have decided that i am not a fan of sculptures just because they some grostesquely large, and i like things quite small. but that’s a personal bias.

I played a good samaritan today by accompanying one of these lonely french men (carrying his groceries) past the gay bars in the marais because he was "afraid" of being alone in a male-filled environment. This is somewhat funny but I buy the story anyway. After all, i am a guest in not-so-friendly France and it’s nice to give back some.

no classes till tuesday - i am starting to think P5 may not be terrible. So, am taking off to Lyon and Aix en Provence for the weekend. I have heard much about the gastromic feasting that happens in Lyon and am hoping to pick up some good buchon-related eats. and i hope i get to see the same sunflowers that van gogh painted (eh, but i guess october is not the best time of the yr) or the pastoral settings of Cezanne.

i am back in the forest again. After a week of couching, interviewing and reading as many books/ words/ tube map signs as I can, i am back in France. Not before taking a coffee at the Terminus Nord, a beautiful brassarie just outside of Gare du Nord. I had heard about this place from Shota and decided to try it - after all, pour quoi pas? a rude reintroduction back to france where a salad and coffee takes a full 45 minutes to prepare and appear - france oh france…

my heart is still heavy, my mind still a wasteland. i find myself taking longer to perform each activity - trying to etch out the bare space of my mind. as long as i dont have time to ponder about my sad state of affairs, then i would be able to feel sane. So i stand in the shower for as long as the hot water lasts, till my skin wrinkles and the skin bleeds a bright red. I use deliberate motions to cut my food, so that by the time the meat touches my lips, the taste and warmth has dissipated.

i am not looking forward to the craziness of school or my last two months in Europe, where the weather turns grey and i realize that the party is happening in Asia and for whatever unforeseen circumstances, i decided to stay here in europe. i have made much worse decisions in my life before but this one is one of those that i feel the bite and regret just a tad. coupled with the lack of classes to keep me busy, i might just do the crazy and take up french lessons.

I have been having conversations with various people on their imprints/ understanding of relationships. Not to pit genders here but i think the world is divided into 2 halves: the women vs the men. Women that believe in the solidarity of relationships and commitment and men that believe in a notional concept of relationships (a good time, some excitment, commitment without being FULLY committed - whatever that means and a fast disappearance when it starts to suck). Here are good quotes from the guys who have contributed to my little survey:

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF COMMITTED RELATIONSHIPS?

Male version: " i just want something free and it’s no loss to me. It has to start out like a transaction and if something develops then great."

Female respons: "Of course you are in a committed relationship. What other kind is there?"

IS IT TERRIBLE IF HE DOESNT CALL?

Male version: "not really. i think he needs his space."

Female version:"That’s just retarded. What does he think he is in? A relationship requires calling…and 1 hour on the phone no less."

SHOULD ONE CALL AFTER BEING DUMPED?

Male version: "cut your losses and forget it."

Female version: "U mean you didnt try and call??? You should. You need to know"

Hahaha, this is fucking funny. if only i could list out all the opposing and contradictatory advice i have received. This is too good and if any of u want me to put the rest out here, please just ask for it. which leaves me in a doldrummy, fucked up and manically depressed place.

Funnily enough, after reading 3 of Simone de Beauvoir’s stories, I am amazed at her sharp insight into the woman’s pysche and if there are men out there who would like to know how women think, forget about cosmopolitan and read The Woman Destroyed instead. It’s interesting how she has captured the minute reactions of women in a relationship - the played out anger, the overreaction, the despair and self-loathing that comes with being the rejected. What can I say? It’s all true. And the men are searching for women that applaud their vanity, in modern terms (we call it the feel-good factor) and are entralled by charming nubiles - and then it makes me feel depressed that that is the lot we are assigned to in life. No wonder modern women think that in order to preserve sanity, we also have to employ fuck-and-flee tactics. It’s be hunted or hunt and so everyone is out there, performing some kind of sadomasochistic rigmarole… Simone de Beauvoir hit the nail right on the head, illustrating ultimate despair when the protaganist, driven to madness by her husband’s affair with another woman, just decides to give up on life and run herself ragged in search for sympathy or just any reaction from her husband. And such is the desperation of women.

Was Simone de Beauvoir a feminist? Critics say so, i think its a function of time - It’s amazing that she has openly written about women’s emotions the way she has and given women a true face, quite unlike that of the perceived cogeniality of women past. I don’t even know what it means to be feminist these days. Despite her characters being strong, comandeering, successful even, they all took placid choices - wanting a family, hoping for respect and love from their children and husband - quite something different from bra-burning "men are dogs" feminism i know. or maybe that is just riot grrls. i am not so good with terms and pigeonholing and i can only see things for what they are. If the women of today still dont have recourse despite what has gone on in the last 100 yrs, i think it’s a lost cause. i vote for autosexualism - the drive to seek only self-gratification and seek inspiration only from oneself. perhaps, women will become less dependent on men (just because women earn a paycheck now dont make them less dependent). A more fundemental change has to occur, changing our outlook on self-esteem, how we view happiness and enjoy it,  and hopefully there is a pill out there that makes all boys look fat, bulbous and ugly - just so we don’t get tempted into thinking that any liasions are worthwhile.

And maybe i am just one tiny step from being an old crony that will have cats for friends.

today is one of those days where i find myself writing and writing obsessively. i feel the need to note down all my thoughts in whatever form available. and it has been an emotional day - my mum just out of surgery and speaking to eva who has been sadly strong, knowing that her husband doesnt have much more time. and i admire her raw courage, knowing that despite wei ming’s impending absence, it was all made worth it just because he loved her. Some day, i hope to tell eva’s love story, because it is one of the most beautiful love stories ever. my uncle just got out of radiation therapy for cancer… all in all, it has been a horribly emotional week. Any interview war story that i may have doesnt even compare.

despite the relative ease at which i have sailed through interviews, i just havent been able to focuse in the final lap. it’s partly my wonky emotional state, partly inability to do anything right or partly just stemming from hearing related problems (ipod too loud).

all this had made brought into focus my distorted worldview - which up till now has been about job hunting, drunken parties and trying to write joke newsletters that no one gives a crap’s ass about. And then one feels debilitated and saddened at the lack of one’s accomplishments. And i use the 3rd person narrative here because i cannot reconcile with my facile self, as obvious from my writing.

And we play on about jobs, identity, future earnings, enhanced roles, making a difference to this world…and yet, i cannot see one person at school who has been emotionally sorted out, being in this drunken, nightmarish soiree that never ends. and i speak for myself here - feeling lost and thinking of finding hope at the bottom of a beer mug has been somewhat of a stupid challenge doomed to failure right from the start. and perhaps i am overly harsh…but it has been slightly torturous and the need to recede into the furthest recesses of my brain has become a necessity.

i am tired of london now. tired of the money, the riches, the go-getting immigrant culture. i think hiding in foresty fonty may be the next best move, given how everything else meaningful to me has gone to the dogs. and so life goes on…

and so it has begun. somewhere between starting out faintly enthusiatic about the interviews, i find my spirit waning. The bank has gathered all its prospective candidates in a room for lunch and mingling with other co-competitors. somewhere between my 2nd, 3rd, 4th interview, i find my voice breaking and my mind drifting. Somewhere between someone asking me to quanify the ROI i received on my non-profit organization and between what i understand of the job role requirements, i blanked out. Mostly because my heart wasnt there and i felt listless, and despite having slept for 8 hours, i felt like i didnt sleep at all. a fear has arised in me and i think i basically wrote my own ticket home. it’s part personal sabotage and perhaps just so i can have someone else to blame, or simply that, the interview questions were just too hard. perhaps, i just dont fucking care enough.

no, i dont know what i want to do with life. and yes, i know what i CAN do, there’s loads - mostly involving cafe toting walks, whining about life, watching bands, eating chinese and debating if insead relationships are at best, the best of the worst choices one can make. today was an off day, i feel that tomorrow is going to be another back-slapping moment - i should be preparing for some kind of mental workout - a test perhaps on my valuation techniques or to know the latest deals the bank has done. and what am i doing? sitting here blogging, and possibly sanitising what i have to say because there is just too much to write and the thoughts are a blur. i think i am in a wasted form, and even my 15 minute shuteye isnt working.

so post interview, i am walking in the rain with queen blaring in my headphones. its quite apt for london weather. i head to Hana Cafe - a little known japanese place that sells great sushi at wonderful prices, while reading a Simone de Beauvoir novels - attempting to understand the whacked out perspective of a woman who can possibly date an existentialist man. comments to follow on what i truly think of this situation.

one of those days where 8 hours of sleep feels like 4. it happens. even to those that are part of the "Je suis Superior" club.

peishan is very happy with her accomodation choice. THe East London Line (a little known tube line that travels…yes you guessed it, the east of london) goes up and down 5 little stops but dutifully lands us in Whitechapel, home to funky shops, retro garb, expensive London homegrown designers and stolen phones. But first! A pitstop to the STAR cafe - one of these diners that are reminiscent of grease, immigrants and 60’s decor that never went out of style. For 2.50, one can gouge on eggs, buttered toast, beans and bacon…yummy. and wait, the best freaking coffee in London (coffee included with heart-stopping breakfast of course). Not sure if people think this, but coffee in the Uk is desperate, it’s filtered, thin and watered down. to get as good a coffee as this at 10am in the morning is a godsend…especially when you have been up the whole night fuming about life.

In these pics, Star cafe (or Greasy spoon as peishan lovingly calls it) looks kinda neat, clean and modern. but take the polish waiters and the russian cook with the 70p milkshake…it’s pretty much a scene from the derelict ages. but we love! there is always a side of london (the unhip, laid back, unglamourous part of london) that appeals to me - Go East End Go! And that is one of the things that I never get going out on an Insead luncheon (pictures of those lunches to follow suit). much as i love glamour and a bourgeoisie life, i think at heart, i am still a girl from the heartlands and i am much better identifying with dirt, grime and a simple meal because it is real and it tastes hearty. things like that don’t need comprehending, one simply lives it. maybe that’s why i love rock music, or poor artists, or authors that write about the lives of average joes.

i bought my first vintage dress today - after 7 years. its been a long time since i attempted to buy retro and vintage. i still remember being a 70’s hippie chick with platforms, bell bottoms and paisley tops, those were the days…but the steal of the day was buying a badge that proudly says "Je suis Superior" - hey that’s me…what can i say. superior all around. i betcha you didnt know that! and blowing 80 quid on the most beautiful white shoes ever. these shoes make me feel like Madonna during her Dietritch influenced era. there are manly but womenly, highly androygenus…i like. it was a good day…mostly. minus the damn pissy weather.

good east end go…now to FINALLY change out of the clothes i have been adorning for the past 2 days. living the life of a couch vagabond is hard work. but as long as there is an internet connection, there is hope.

At the Westbourne gastropub…beautiful place out in nottinghill with my fave peeps… will miss u guys!

so much for having an exotic holiday getaway. back in london and this time it’s to take on final interviews with a couple of companies. i have been home away from home for a couple of days now, crashing on all sorts of couches and living in all sorts of different spaces. the only thing is that I have had a full 4 days of relaxation, with no disturbances, no calls, no emails, no nothing - just time to potter around paris, london, read, read, read…take photos and discover new cafes/ bars/ clubs that i would otherwise never have the time to.

upon landing in gloomy london, peishan whisks me off to Goldsmith Arts College for a gig to watch a couple of bands. The average age was 16 and everyone either looked like Mick Jagger, George Harrison, Twiggy, Monroe or just the updated punk rock version of cyndi lauper. A couple of girls were obviously onto a new hot trend - wearing their 80’s gold lame (pronouced Lam-meh) swimsuits (the full length ones) with jeans and pointy boots. It’s all good, UK trash fashion speaks volumes, especially in a venue with 300 sweaty kids that all look like replicas of eachother.

i cant say i am too jazzed about my interviews, just becos these are final rounds that spell a make-it-or-break-it reality. having come so close, and yet still be so far is quite taunting, daunting and trying. i cant even really bring myself to party properly and have been a lumpy drag. Lunch with sara, aarsie, richard and pateel at The Westbourne was a lovely affair, some of the best PIMMS, bloody marys and gastropub grub. Food in the UK isnt all bad now, provided that u are willing to spend good pounds…as with any meal - even en France

well, a good way to end a blog is to have pictures. so here r some good memories:

giddy up, giddy up - 7 dwarfs and 1 nasty alligator.

this is prob my fave one: it makes the seine look like a wide-angle holga shot. the clouds were extremely billowy that day.

this is my L.A moment - pont neuf goes californai. check out the acid colours