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ARSE!!!

I've been waiting for weeks for the Somerset House summer series of gigs to be announced, hoping to plan my trip to England around attending one of them. Watching Orbital, Yo La Tengo and Calexico in that beautiful courtyard made for some of the most memorable gigs of my time in London, and that's saying a lot.

So they've finally been announced, and here they are:

• 5 July: Beth Orton
• 6 July: Doves
• 7 July: Queens Of The Stone Age
• 8 July: Super Furry Animals
• 9 July: The Mars Volta
• 10 July: Sigur Ros
• 11 July: Bright Eyes
• 12 July: Bloc Party + The Kills + The Cribs
• 13 July: Los Lobos & Orishas

Problem 1: The last time most of these acts interested me was when I still read the NME, and I gave that bad habit up long ago after realizing that more cutting-edge commentary could be found in The Sun. Bloc Party aren't bad but they don't blow me away either. The Mars Volta, if Deloused In The Crematorium is anything to go by, would be fun for half an hour, then repetitive and tedious. I can tolerate what I used to hear of the Super Furries, but don't know how good their recent work is. The one act there I do really like is Sigur Ros, but I've seen them already and would rather see a band I haven't seen yet. But all is moot - seeing any of the bands I've just mentioned isn't even an option, because of Problem 2.

Problem 2: I'm spending 8-10 July boogie-ing in the rainforests of Borneo, and I get called to the Bar on 13 July, which basically means that my only realistic option, considering travel times etc., is Beth Orton, who is deathly boring.

Hence: ARSE!!!

My Boys

Not only are my boyfriend and best friend in the same country as me for the first time in a year, they're also living together. Given that my house doesn't have a guest room, and Alec lives alone in my family's old 3-bedroom apartment, it seemed to make sense.

In the run-up to Russ's visit, the boys exchanged a number of affectionate emails. Here are some excerpts.

"we'll be able to spend lots of time together - budddddiiiieeeeee" - Alec

"Oooh, lots of time with you (Alec). I wonder how that will turn out. Will we be best buds by the end of it, or will you suffer a fate of /accidentally/ falling off a balcony, or /accidental/ drowning? Who knows, we will have to wait and see." - Russ

"I'd enjoy having you as a guest - you'd probably be my first visitor so I can work out all the problem with the guest room by using you as a guinea pig. e.g. 'Hey Alec, this toilet doesn't flush' or 'Alec, is that a dead rat in the corner?'... My the way, there's a large pile of pigeon shit on the outside of the guest bedroom widowstill. You'd better bring a brush and sponge." - Alec

Now in case anyone finds it puzzling that Alec would be mildly hostile towards my best friend (completely apart from the fact that Russ has a toned body, dances well, dresses well, has understood me intuitively almost from the day we met, and is a guy), let me recount a little incident from the past.

(Scene: the day of my graduation; dinner with my parents, Alec and Russ.)
My mum: Russ, I just want to thank you for everything you've done for Michelle over the years. Walking her home late at night, picking her up at the airport...
Alec, interrupting facetiously (I think): Ah yes, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, Russ! I mean, you just make me look really bad as a boyfriend! All this picking her up at the airport at 9 in the morning...
Russ, interrupting facetiously (I think): Actually, it was 6 in the morning.
Me: Hahahahahahaha!
My parents: Hahahahahahaha!
Alec, seething quietly: Hahahahahahaha.

I think the flat will be big enough for both of them, don't you?

Waning Lyrical

I haven't found time to write about my fantastic weekend yet, but gracet helpfully gave me a meme to fill the silence with:

"Find a song that everybody knows and put the lyrics into the Babelfish (http://babelfish.altavista.com/). Translate them from English to German, then German to French, and then French to English. Then post here with 3 clues. See who gets the song right first."

I deliberately chose a song which had incoherent lyrics to begin with, but I still think this is pretty easy.

Translated lyrics:

Freight on rifles
to take in top your friends,
him it recreation is to lose
and it is a panel itself to pretend
more ensured me
white which I know
has word salts

Hallo (X 16)

the lights him we are here are maintained
maintaining to us less dangerously than I believe
than stupidly and contagious
here we are now maintained has us
Mulatto
Moskito of the Albino
has my Yea
libido

me are more badly above than I make well
and for this gift
that I believe our small whom group
is always been and always the will at the end blessed

Hallo (X 16)

with the lights of him we are here maintained
it believes that stupidly and contagious
here we are now maintained has us
Mulatto
Moskito of the Albino
has my Yea
libido

and that I precisely forget
what that it takes to us,
and but I estimate that it forms me smile
that I find to be hard hard for him, good OH-
found that also always, nevermind

Hallo (X 16)

the lights him we are here are maintained
now less dangerously than I believe
than stupidly and contagious
here we are now maintained has us
Mulatto
Moskito of the Albino
has my Yea
libido

Clues:

1. A close friend of Neil Gaiman has regularly covered this song in her gigs.
2. A parody of the album cover featured a donut in place of the greenback used in the original.
3. The lead singer's child is apparently middle-named after a legume.

PC Gaming

While Alec was cooking up a scarily elaborate Chinese feast for my family on Sunday, I decided not to get in his sweating, cursing way, and started cleaning up the guest room for Russ. Since my sister and I used to share the room, a fair amount of our stuff is still in the cupboards so I was going through them to clear space for Russ to hang his clothes.

The thing about cleaning my old flat is that no matter how much I remember about my childhood, there's always something I've completely forgotten, until it resurfaces, that brings me some delight amidst the dust. Sunday's treasure trove was a box of old card games, some well-known like Old Maid and Go Fish, and others I couldn't remember for the life of me.

I have no idea what card game these were from, but they're amusing throwbacks to a time when Mind Your Language was my favourite comedy and I'd never heard of the word "stereotype".

Two little Injuns

Man, even then people were mean to the Welsh

People are always surprised I don't keep my boyfriend's photo in my wallet. Think I'll start showing them this instead.

After my family had left and we'd finished cleaning up, we sat out on the balcony for a well-deserved rest. I drank my coffee, and Alec smoked his pipe. We were the very picture of yuppie sophistication - apart from the Top Trumps. My sailing ships totally kicked his sailing ships' asses. Next time we're playing combat aircraft, and after that, racing bikes.

Dude, where's my lower half?

Each pack came with some teaser cards for other Exciting! packs you could own in the Top Trumps series. This is where I realized that my childhood, and indeed my life so far, has been woefully incomplete.

Coolest. Top Trump pack. Ever. I want this so bad.

Countdown

The countdown to London starts on Friday.

On Friday, my best friend Russ arrives in Singapore on a 3 week vacation.¹ As if that level of Michelle bliss isn't enough, the Scratch Perverts play at Zouk the night he arrives! So in one fell swoop, I'm getting two of the things I've longed for most since returning to Singapore - the company of my best friend, and the chance to see some of my long-running favourite DJs again.

The same week that Russ leaves here in May, Nav arrives on her visit.

A few weeks after Nav leaves, my pupillage ends.

A few weeks after my pupillage ends, I make what I hope will become an annual trip to England, and see these two people, other people I love, and the city I love, again.

¹ Obviously he's also exploring other bits of South East Asia during his holiday, would I be so cruel as to force the poor guy to stay in Singapore for 3 weeks, just for me? (Don't answer that.)

Dorksylvania

An update on the Sonic Youth/Cat Power saga at U Penn I ranted about previously - the gig went ahead, apparently with an audience of about 300-400 people in a venue which could have housed 2000.

What a bunch of dorks. And by that, I mean the other 1700 who could have been there but were probably too busy RAWKING OUT to the Dave Matthews Band cuz they, like, RULE. Of course I hate the people who were there too, but that's just envy.

Now I've vented some spleen, I hasten to add that I'm not entirely humourless about this whole thing. This column in the college newspaper was actually pretty funny: RIAA sues 4 students for bad taste in music.

"The Recording Industry Association of America filed lawsuits yesterday against four Penn students who were found to have downloaded Sonic Youth songs onto their computers.

Citing "bad taste," officials said the individuals will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. If convicted, the students face a minimum sentence of 10 months in an alternative music rehabilitation center.

Treatment could also include intensive listening sessions featuring musicians of the 21st century, or trips to spring concerts at other universities that plan to feature contemporary artists."

"Lawsuits such as the ones aimed at the four students are part of the RIAA's strategy of suing individual users for their personal music preferences. The trend began in September 2003, when the group sued two Princeton students for downloading entire Ace of Base albums.

"I just liked 'I Saw the Sign' and it got out of control," recovering bad-music addict Bridget Takacs said. Though her police record will forever be branded "stuck in the 1990s," Takacs was grateful for the intervention."

I'm Channelling Toni Braxton As You Read This

It's extremely flattering when someone as cool as ci'en refers to you as her "indie lawyer ou xiang" (Mandarin for "idol"), but these past few days the reality has been rather un-idyllic. I tried to write a rant about it, but confidentiality obligations and the law of defamation kept getting in the way.

In marked contrast to my usual activity-filled weekends, today brought some very welcome quiet time, at least for me. I woke up at noon, had a lazy lunch and caught up with my Internet surfing, occasionally sparing a compassionate thought for Alec, who spent the afternoon at Fort Canning lifting kids on and off horses (fundraising for Riding For The Disabled).

Dinner at Werner's Oven, which wasn't particularly notable except for the very fair price of their Erdinger. Then back home for lounging and American Splendor, which was delightful.

Tomorrow we have no plans apart from cooking dinner for my family.

Breathing is so nice.

Due Drudgery

Won't have time to post much until the weekend because I am involved in the tenth circle of legal work hell also known as due diligence. Essentially, I have to spend hours (as in, 14+ hours at a stretch) looking through reams of contracts and summarizing them, with only an iPod to keep me sane. Ellen Allien and Neutral Milk Hotel were good music to work to yesterday. Soundmurderer wasn't.

This is a fucking far cry from The Practice, man.

Stor Of Myself

StorTroopers are back! I've lost the original StorTrooper I posted on this blog in 2001, but recreated one for old time's sake. And then I made a couple more. (Sorry to any Walt Whitman fans out there for that terrible title, I just couldn't think of anything else.)

Butchmania Michelle, 2001

Girly Michelle, 2005, with cat

Fusion Confusion Michelle, in loving memory of the days when I had a black girl's ass in a yellow girl's body

Dominatrix Michelle, FOREVER

Pardon His Fiddlesticks

Alec spends a lot more time with my mum than I do these days, since he's often over at my house during the day to use my laptop for his job-searching. They have lunch, trade recipes, go shopping for stuff for his flat, and recently fell asleep together on the couch (DIFFERENT COUCHES OBVIOUSLY, LET ME MAKE THIS CLEAR) while watching the Pope's funeral.

While spending all this time with my mum, Alec naturally tries to moderate the ways in which he expresses himself. Although it would theoretically be possible to explain to my family that in Ireland, an outburst of "FECK!" is actually quite acceptable even in polite company, and really isn't just a weird Irish way of saying "FUCK!", after asking Alec to move continents for me I feel somewhat hard-pressed to demand that he also lecture my parents on Irish vernacular swearing.

But after so much restraint, I guess sometimes it's hard for him to snap back into normal mode even when it's just him and me. After lunch at his flat on Sunday, he went into the kitchen to pour us the coffee he'd made, only to realize he'd forgotten to plug the coffee-maker in when he switched it on - and yelled "FIDDLESTICKS!"

The rest of the afternoon was difficult for us, as he spent most of it rocking and mewling in a corner.

Flea Love

How much do I love flea markets? Let me count the ways:

1. CD: The Discovery Of A World Inside The Moone (Apples In Stereo), $4
2. CD: Curtains (Tindersticks), $4
3. DVD: American Splendor, $6
4. Pink button earrings, $4
5. Beige top with two guys who look like extras from MacGyver stencilled on it in prussian blue, $5
6. Black top with rough-cut neck and armholes, small mustard yellow rose print, and lace all the way round the waist, $2
7. Beige oblongish bag with criss-crossing lines of khaki leather and eggshell blue sequins, $2
8. Dirty brown (in colour, not state) Jap-style bag with 3 cartoony guys with Afros, and "I LOVE AFRO" on the back, $3

I Love Afro

There was a guy asleep on the floor at one of the stalls, which is never a good idea if you're at a flea market and have funny friends. (Click on the photo to view a full-size version.)

"Buy T-shirt & take loser home for free!"

I Have Never

Like most Londoners, I've rollerbladed, tossed frisbees, and played football in Hyde Park. On my 21st birthday, I was led across London blindfolded by my friends, who then brought me into the middle of Hyde Park and instructed me to count to 20, untie myself and find them in their various hiding places. I have not, however, played ultraviolet tag in Hyde Park, and though I hadn't realized how much I wanted to before, I now feel the poorer for it.

I liked this observation in Londonist's writeup:

Maybe this was Tomoko's plan; the invitation to play games in Hyde Park was not a ruse designed to create art, but the art was a ruse to get a bunch of po-faced "sophisticated, refined urbanites" to come and play games in Hyde Park.

Call Me Matlock

Today at work, I learned how to use the binding machine. I am glad to add it to my repertoire of office machinery, having mastered the fax, scanner and photocopier several weeks ago. Oh, and the giant stapler.

Truly, there are some things I am learning in these challenging 6 months on the cutting edge of legal practice that they don't teach you in five years of law school.

I'm learning the paper shredder tomorrow.

Words About Noise

I liked the introduction to Bryan Berge's review of Tom Smith/Sightings' Gardens Of War:

"Noise defies language. In the everyday sense, noise is the category of sound that cannot be explained (“what is that noise?”) or doesn’t merit explanation (background noise). Thus noise is marked primarily in its relation to language, or more precisely in that lack of relation. In a technical sense, noise lacks the typical harmonic patterns that mark most resonant sounds produced by this wide world o’ vibrating objects. This too is a refusal of language, that most important of organized sounds in our acoustic lives. And finally, noise music attempts to obliterate our critical faculties, to send reason scurrying to a tranquil wrinkle deep in the brain stem while caustic sound ravages the ears. At its best, noise overwhelms, leaving the listener a battered, quivering mass of flesh who gulps for air and squeaks like an animal but who certainly does not smugly put down the headphones and deliver a discourse on the effectiveness of the brutal crunching sound in the fourth minute of the third track.

But here I go anyway."

Also:

"Whenever I was tempted to form a thought during Gardens of War—“this song sounds like a particularly frightening Sunburned Hand of Man session overrun by homicidal robots” or “is that fuzz guitar playing some sort of insect melody?”—a grating din arrived to punish me. We’re talking some serious negative reinforcement here. So I never strived for language and conscious analysis again—all that you see here was written after the album had seeped into my skin after so many listens that I could relive it without the threat of another storm cloud breaking in my ears.

Only guttural grunts and surreal words-in-isolation issued from my brain and mouth while the record played.

As such, I did a spot-on impersonation of Tom Smith’s vocals."

There's also a bit about being forced into a corner by a big angry man with a genre fetish, but it doesn't work well when excerpted.

Used To Be A Raver

At Jacob's place on Saturday, we had to pick bits of paper out of a box, and then play a song which matched the theme written on the paper. Not having expected this little twist on his instructions to "bring obscure music", I'd just brought a few CDs and some mp3s in a thumbdrive, but was happy enough with what I managed.

For the theme "Fat Bottomed Girls", I played Vybz Kartel's Picture You And Me ("in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G"), feeling that this contained similar key elements of juvenile misogyny.

Alec then drew "Start The Panic", and astutely observed that such a theme could pretty much apply to anything in his musical collection. However, we decided to spare everyone else the undeniable fight-or-flight impulse that a choice selection from The Chieftains In China would have provoked, so I played Knifehandchop's Used To Be A Raver instead.

Other than that we drank, and ate Twisties, and played mahjong on the floor, and Jacob ate his cat.

Jacob gettin' Ozzy wit' it.

Mahjong tiles and alcohol.

I was joking about the cat. Witness intact Schopie with loving owner.

In Memoriam, Pope John Paul II

I took this photograph in Krakow, nearly a year ago.

Today it makes me think of the man who gave much to their nation, and the world.

In my prayers

Goodbye, Holy Father. Please pray for all of us.