Blank Doll.

My doomed apple dumplings are leaking molten butter in the oven because I inverted the sugar:butter ratio. ARGH.

Ille me parlait hier et pour ce moment-la, tout etait calm. Je ne peux pas mettre en mots les emotions qu'ille m'evoque, je ne peux pas choisir entre la realite et la reve qui est eui. Nous avons traverse le mur indefine, traverse la mer infinite et a la fin, nous nous sommes trouve.

Today has been quite a horrid day. Nonetheless, I'm not going to let something so pathetic as a day beat me down. There's things to do, a dozen ensemble rushing around in my head waiting for me to put them on paper. Seriously, I've been toying with the 20s meet japonisme idea for so long that they've shown it for this season. Like, what the fuck!?

On another note, I think I try too hard. Your words are too poisonous. I want to protect you, I want to be strong enough to take care of you. But you burn. Sometimes it's too much. In shielding you from the world, I hurt. Maybe I leave because of you, because you will break me if I don't.

Il me faut sortir, voyager et en fin, te trouver.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll

I love my rainy days, so restful and all. Evenings like this, makes me want to paint everything in saturated shades of blue.

Oh and I wish hardcore fantasy geeks would all stand up and rise against the Harry Potter Craze. It's absurd this is, all the fanfare over a plot that has been used, and used, and re-used by countless other fantasy writers who write very well indeed. There are many up and coming fantasy writers with skill, finesse, more than a little sophistication and it's just plain sad that none of them will ever get the sort of acclaim that Ms. Rowling has received. This is just as bad as the time when everyone suddenly went crazy over LOTR even though the book was pedantic, boring, strangely unepic given its scale and was probably the only fantasy book to have an ANNEX. All because they made it into a movie and Orlanda Bloom had pointy ears.

Here are some fantasy writers who read very well though. Terry Pratchett for his irreverence, his humour and his quirky way of making his world seems so much more real than reality. Jacqueline Carey for writing so beautifully it's almost prose. Anne Bishop who needs a bit more polish but does a neat job. Judith Tarr who's an old hand who wrote a very good chronicle series. Tad William's War of Flowers is inspired. Ursula Le Guin is very very good at what she does. Terry Goodkind makes the Cold War sound boring. Terry Brooks write an action-packed Tolkien lite which is quite entertaining. Mercedes Lackey for the uninitiated is good. L E Modesitt is versatile and there is always E Feist who does wars incredibly well. Oh and for those of us, all of us, who like fantasy light, there is always David Eddings who can be relied on to supply easy books of delicious length with very likeable characters.

And here I give myself away as a fantasy geek. Crap. Haha, anyway, was talking to a fellow closet fantasy geek and she kindly pointed out that I like my fantasy politically inspired. This means I'm not too acquainted with the fireball and dragonfight persuasion so I can't be relied on to supply titles.

There, I have forever banished the stupid assumption that all I read is Tarling. I happen to spend most of my time reading fantasy novels, books on food, fashion periodicals and coffee books and articles on the state of the economy. I do like to dabble in the occasional philosophy text and the rare Klassiks but well, it's rare.

Plato's Republic is proving to be quite fascinating nevertheless. The whole Socrates and the Idiot argument model is a little washed out though.

Goodbye weekend.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll

Oh gosh, I'm suddenly so desperate for a liposuction I think I'll rob the bank.

Hectic hectic week. I love my office with all my nice superiors, especially G4 who despite being demanding and dreaded by most of his colleagues, is actually a very nice guy and the sort of man who could qualify for Father Figure status. Not easy considering my dim view of men old enough to be my dad.

Meeting on Wednesday lasted till 10 30pm but it was ok because there was the surreal after experience of watching Wenli and Shungs play dota in the ops room.

Oh and I made a honey souffle. Wait, I meant to say I screwed up a honey souffle all because I was too impatient and took it out of the oven half cooked. There is nothing more disgusting than an uncooked souffle. Ok, there are a lot of things AS disgusting but certainly not many things more disgusting than it.

My hip still hurts although it's much better now. NO THANKS TO EVERYBODY ELSE WHO MAKES ME WALK UP AND DOWN THE STAIRS.

Oh god, I feel so fat now. I really reall really want a liposuction. Mummy thought I was crazy when I told her I wanted one and that I was going to save up so I could get one before I leave for Parsons.

Anyway, just listened to Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega and I think she really is first and foremost a poet. I like the frisson she creates by putting in juxtaposition the casual familiarity as well as the comfortable anonymity of a round-the-corner diner. She employs ambiguity a lot in her lyrics. I don't know if this is due to carelessness or if she's deliberately making you think even as you sing along.

No, I don't sing aloud.

Anyway, Sun at Chijmes has a 1 for 1 sushi lunch/dinner and I want somebody to go for it with me. Anyone up for sushi? Wait, don't say. I know the right person.

I just read yet another article on El Bulli and I am suddenly obsessed with how they make their olive oil candies. You can't get alignate in Singapore I swear.

Also, Hermes for men this season kicks ass. Molton Brown has a deliciously spicy perfume with major black pepper notes. I need to get a sandwich at Hediard just to see how good it really is. I need an easel, wonder if I can steal one from Ahmad Ibrahim. Xuan's going to have to help me on that one :p

C'est tout.

BD in the house :D

Il y a un/e personne qui m'aime, vraiment. Ille m'aime si beaucoup nous-meme sommes blesses. C'est trop triste pour moi. Je ne peux pas supporter l'idee que je lea ferai mal un jour si nous sommes de la chance pour se rencontrer. J'ai trop de l'ambition et ille est trop bonne.

Oh gosh, now my back hurts too. I need need need to rolf.

I cannot get Rachael Yamagata's Quiet out of my head. That one line, it just breaks my heart.

You may hate me, but I'll remember to love you.

Et non Jessie, t'as pas de raison. C'est pas la meme personne que je me trouve en tombant pour. C'est pas la meme personne du tout.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll.

I did it. Et c'est un bon coupe aussi! I bought my beautiful marc jacob jeans from blackspade AND it was after a 50% reduction instead of 30% like the other day!

Gosh, beautiful.

Lunch at Victor's Kitchen today. Haha, the dimsum is cheap and good. Really happy although the weather was atrocious. I love love love the custard buns with the salted egg yolk. Genius.

Spent the rest of the day sleeping off the pain from a very annoying groin strain that is recovering after the visit to the tui na shi yesterday night.

I am not looking forward to a very hectic week. Gargh.

C'est tout,

Blank Doll sits still.

Ouch, I really really need physio or some kick ass tuina because my left leg is a mess. The shin splint is still there, my butt hurts and some weird ligament/tendon/string/muscle thing near my groin area is off tangent. At this rate, I'm never going to be able to run 21 km without looking like Terry Fox.

Oh, and my kneecap hurts too. ARGH. I don't want to grow fat :(

Anyway, I am obsessed with pastry shops. Shops like Gerard Mulot or Pierre Herme. We haven't got anything like those in Singapore and even the Chocolate Factory isn't that good. Canele is reliable but not particularly inspired. Sigh.

Anything for real pain de mie with foie gras, mesclun and a reduction of sauternes.

OH. Tomorrow, I shall go get my pair of white cords from blackjack, assuming they have it in my size. It just occurred to me that size 30 is too big for me now and I have to wear a belt with everything which must means that I've slimmed down.

Parfait.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll eats up.

I once had a pair of red Calvins that were absolutely beautiful, the sort that follows the line of your leg and makes them look five feet long. Unfortunately, I once possessed a somewhat staid approach to clothes and colour so I threw it away. Now when I want to wear a frayed long sleeved shirt, red jeans and boots- well, I can't. The problem with owning so many pairs of Calvins, Levis, Diesels and Trussardis is that you really can't wear them all. I've cut up two pairs of Calvins, a pair of Rykiels and a pair of Versaces but my I still have too many pairs. There's a pair I've been wearing since primary five and it still fits! (fat boy alert) Then again, three years ago, my dad bought me a pair from Thailand, some generic pair, and it was really good.

Yes, I hate people who wear jeans everywhere, who thinks a pair of jeans and long sleeved shirt makes smart casual. Impossible, je vous dit. Nonetheless, there are times to wear jeans. Or at least until I work and have enough income to tailor all my pants from cashmere or something.

Work has been, erm, heavy. Most of which I am not at the liberty to discuss but suffice to say, it's been rather interesting. A friend of mine once said I was pathologically fixated with rank (ok, he didn't say it that nicely, it was more like a scream). Well, he would be proud of me because right now, I could hardly care. Apparently, I'm only a proponent of the Establishment when it suits me and the current one where I am but a tiny minutes writing, slide converting, report vetting and all round expert on all things luxurious cog definitely does not suit me. Still, je suis content.

I have attained a new level of culinary achievement. Yesterday night, I made salted caramel macarons and they taste JUST like macarons! Perfect, now I won't have to go all the way to Canele to get a macaron fix. I'm still annoyed by the fact that I can't find rosewater to flavour my foodstuff though. Nevertheless, I'm over roses. Currently, I love the idea of salted caramel and chili. Salted caramel is such a wonderfully, adult, take on a childhood preoccupation with sweetness. It adds a subtle smokiness, an intense tinge, the salt. Chilis! Ah I am a late bloomer. Me, an Asian, and I only learnt to love chilis like, four months ago. I want to make a fruits rouges coulis and then mince red chili into it. I want to infuse chocolate with chili and then bake a warm chocolate cake with it so that the molten chocolate that oozes out of the crackly core is not only hot and rich but also intensely spicy. I'm also thinking of a way to incorporate pepper into desserts.

With regards to furniture, there is this old technique of decorating walls which I think is so hot. It's essentially leaving the borders of the wall plain and then framing wallpaper in the centre. It's beautiful and you can see an example of this at the Versailles. Now I wonder, how much more beautiful if you had frames of lacquered bamboo framing up antique Chinese silks? I saw this sample of white Chinese patterned silk embroidered with Venetian style embroidery in red. Beautiful.

So much of life to savour, so much of the world to taste, even without you by my side, my time here won't go to waste.

C'est tout.