Thought I’d better hit in an entry for November before it ends. 

Nothing much to say for now, really, except that the sky view from being in aeroplane is really spectacular. Especially when you look out and see the endless dark sky glittering sharply with millions of stars, and a few hours later, spot a speck of orangey-blue glow on the horizon that, before you  know it, bursts into a sunrise. And then wake up to visions of endless fluffy, fresh white croissants that evolve into a sea of fat white gummybears all lying down on their backs, examining that giant hole in the ozone layer.

Internet access is ridiculously priced! Okthxbye.

First things first.

I know its only October, but I can’t wait for January already: Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Cat Power, Patrick Watson and, get this – Andrew Bird.  In Singapore.  Live.  Concert.  ARGH.  How not to be excited I ask you.  What a promising start, after a dismal 2009.  Oh yes. And then, in February, Midlake’s new album, The Courage Of Others, will be out.  Is trippy!

AND CHICKENRICEBALLZ: NO LEI I HAVENT GOT THE SONDRE ALBUM YET!! I don’t see it anywhere – damn sad lah! Heard you have it – How is it? Is it good?? ;)

Ok, secondly. Here are some visuals for fun.

Taken from Pixdaus.

(A winking dog.  Something I really want to see in real life)

Taken from Papertissue.

Taken from Papertissue.

(And here’s my favourite, because its so simple yet precise)

Taken from ffffound.

And now, thirdly – Thank you all for your happy, lovely, heartfelt, sincere (hello hui!!! xxx) well wishes.  Wahlaueh damn touched lah can.  Thank you, thank you, thank you! :)

Am at a loss for words.  For so long, I’ve bemoaned the fact that I can never lay my hands on albums by Electric President & Radical Face, because all good music stores in Singapore does not ever carry them.

These albums still can’t be found in Singapore.

But I now have all three of their albums.  How did this happen?  I also don’t know.

Is awed.

Because some things never change & pictures tell a thousand (thereabouts) words -

Taken from ffffound.

Taken from papertissue.

Taken from papertissue.

Taken from pixdaus.

And then -

Taken from ffffound.

- here’s a story’s worth.

Sondre, your live acoustic versions are just, you know, jellybeans. Yay!  Can’t wait for gramophone and/or hmv to stock your albums. Hurry hurry!

I’m such an inner geek – I found solace in purchasing stuff like small, sleek wireless mouse, universal travel adapter (dunno for what also) and I think I would’ve bought that powerful looking, small, sleek, black coloured external hard drive if I wasn’t chastised.

Anyways.  Sondre, you’re awesome.  Love love love your shizzawesome blog posts. Jellybean joy!

Taken from pixdaus.

Taken from quoteskine.

Question is, where is outside?

Athlete’s Superhuman Touch is good stuff.

Taken from papertissue. I absolutely absolutely adore this picture.

Was listening to Zero 7 and Great Northern – very shizzawesome stuff.  Damn I can’t believe the weekend’s over already – Iz Angryyy!

Probably taken from icanread.

Elliot Smith’s cover of Because by the Beatles, is absolutely amazing.

So we’ve somehow stealthily entered into the realm of September, and have started stepping further and deeper into its quiet, sluggish, gel-like embrace. Ok despite this depressing sounding comment, I am actually slightly excited as September is the month of SuperAwesomeAudioSounds.

Anyways, I finally managed to finish Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Unconsoled yesterday, after like, a month (and racking up library fines and notifications along the way).  I’m glad I persevered, really.  It took so long to complete because I got frustrated at the very absence of commonsense logic that drives the book, and lost the usual drive and desire I usually have to complete a book that I started on.  Think of the disconnect in terms of time/space continuum wraps (non-supernatural of course) that are absorbed and taken as reality (e.g. a seven page dialogue between characters can take place in an elevator that was going a mere two floors up, and random doors conveniently located to bring the protagonist from one place to another in a timely manner).

Just looked up reviews of the book on google and people are comparing the book to something like surrealist art.  And although I ain’t no big art enthusiast nor am very knowledgeable about it, I completely agree with that link.  And suddenly this makes sense.  At the end of the story, my initial sense of frustration, aggression and antagonistic feelings toward the type of disjointed story structure (and ridiculous lack of logical sequences and behaviour), gradually dissipated and turned into something like compassion and perhaps, of finished business.

Towards the end, I started to enjoy trying to piece together dialogue and events with whatever slight information I perceived I gleaned throughout the story, to guess and fathom what could everything all really mean.  I understood finally that one had to absolutely throw away and let go of what you think you know; in order to realise how beautiful the story is.  But of course no one does that at the first reading.  And perhaps Ishiguro intended for this disjointedness when we read, so as to, when self-reflexivity which would likely commence towards at the latter half of the book, allow us to belatedly, but poetically, better appreciate how beautiful the themes and story itself actually is, at the end.

Although the feeling is like surrealist art, (where I think its something like how each individual’s unique reaction towards an artwork that helps to produce tailored respective unique meanings), I’d say that the best thing and most important thing about The Unconsoled is the surprise, after a bout of self-reflexivity, at just how we readers react to the story, its meanings and its messages.  It’s shit amazing.  Thank you.

From papertissue.

Going by books alone, The Unconsoled is way better than Murakami’s bloody Kafka On The bloody Shore, where it was an entire confounded maze of harsh, bitter, self-imposed torture because of its self-destroying hedges that led absolutely nowhere.  Self-reflexivity kicked in when I completed the book and instead of feeling like there was something to think and ponder about, I felt empty and drained.  I secretly suspect that he paid too much attention to the creation of a surrealist story structure (which I must agree that he did a good job of) but lagged in the creation of a decent plot (at least one that did not revolve so much around sex) and characters that the reader could empathise with.

Ok enough of amateur noob reader bashing a literary genius (I did think that Murakami’s Hardboiled Wonderland and some of his other short stories, were something close to amazing). Ugh I disgust myself sometimes. What a long rambly post about something that others probably have more authority to write and opine about!

Nonetheless.

Today’s lengthy tirade is brought to you by the letter S.  S for September, Surrealist art, Story, Structure, Sequence, Surprise, and of course, Sondre Lerche.