I would do a double diamond, but then there should be another, for the mark we left

At three hours past midnight, I re-enact. 

Tonight we bring in '08, new irrationalities and new highs

Any link to said cosmic beings is electric - and I'm all out of insulation

So let the teasers and tasers loose tonight, we salute you '07

Join toes and welcome new fears

All out of red paint so we're using Day Glo, this time around

And we welcome you, one of us, one of us!

Am I the only one who feels irrational surges of gladness when YL smiles?

SHAMELESS

Must run, Gunther's has made me full and now Grovovia shall make me fulfilled. Case in point: Emo Cheang arrives at 5:45 AM! Roll out the red carpet, we're back in full force.

xx, Shu

Stolen from P's, taken with her newest baby. 

I have to get me one of these. All those humdrum digicam shots are getting..old.

Night picnic with the Fuchsia Faeries. It's nice living a life undercover.

Come a little closer, you might hear, secrets of asymmetry in our glow - but don't come too close.

We named him Kape. Because "T-Rex" was taken.

Prints of the fleet-footed.

Only, only when you are sleeping.

I've missed the Enlightened Beings; jumping back into life in the fast lane, if only to catch the beauty of your smiles in 'expanded awareness'. Big ups, to fam for life.

On other matters, Day Picnic Edition 2 was fabulous as well, in a very different way. May insisted the light was too good not to start shooting so we did. I'm rather nervous to see how it came out. No one wants to discover they're actually that far a cry from the likes of Agyness and Lily on professional film. We'll see. I trust in the May's Magic Fingers. Watch this space, I will share, whether the outcome's pretty or..er, not. 

Tonight Dad's taking us to Gunther's, he's practically glowing at the prospect, I don't have the heart to tell him that Earn'a'chen and the Glam Fam took me last week already. I'll pretend to be first-try delighted at the duck confit. Come to think of it, it's probably as delightful the second time round. Oh, to have magic hands and the mystical panache of the Kitchen King. Must make mental note to cold-call til I get an attachment next summer..one more to the to-do list.

Shaun Picto insists that excessive blogging is a sign of a less-than-eventful life, so I'll stop now. Recharging before the flurry of tonight. Bring on the alcohol shiiishhhhh..er, shish kebab. Hoho. Am jumping in my socks at the prospect of meeting the third Natalie, and the fabled Sarah H. Umar. Let's make this an event, guys, Grovovia must be made renowned for its hospitality as much as its ROCKIN ABILITY TO TAKE NEON FUN TO THE O-V-E-R LOAD

Mmmmmkay...bye.

xx, Phree Philly

Early this morning I made a pot of morning pick-me-up with the schmancy coffee beans that Uncle Chek sent over as part of my decadent yearly Christmas basket (I get one all to myself, the family gets another. Favouritism rules.), finally threw out all the denim skirts from the embarassing fashion period that was Secondary School which I've kept all these years with the faint hope that I can one day wear them and not feel vaguely revolted (Denim skirts. I mean, not to be an insufferable bitch and burst the proverbial Singapore Girl's bubble, but really - denim skirts? Shoot me, please.), re-ordered the small metal/thread knobbly ball that my tangled chains/bangles/bracelets etc. have morphed into, brewed another pot of coffee after aforementioned pot got cold, and watched High Fidelity a second time. Productivity is a cinch. All this was done while May was buried head-first, up to her waist in the depths of my closet rifling for clothes. Aaron now thinks I'm mildly insane. He had his head cocked to one side watching while May marched me out of the house at erratic intervals clothed in combinations of clothes varying in degree of nu-rave-ness. Le Goff keeps me comfortably insane because she inhabits Neon Ever-land with me. Naturally, project in question is beyond the present. Today is already over, bring on the future.

I was thinking of elaborating, dang it..oh right, High Fidelity. Brill on the repeat. It's one of the rare screen adaptations of afuckingmazing books that aren't an instant turn-off/let-down. Hornby/DeVincentis' lines are airtight, dry as the first time you hear them. And who could you possibly pick to do wryness better than Cusack? I reiterate, brilliance. Self-deprecation delights me to no end. Le Goff kept running her head into the top of the closet shelf at my (shouts of) laughter. Gotta' love stories that weave around cracks, rifts, imperfections.

Rob: Liking both Marvin Gaye and Art Garfunkel is like supporting both the Israelis and the Palestinians. 

Laura: No, it's really not, Rob. You know why? Because Marvin Gaye and Art Garfunkel make pop records. 

Rob: Made. Made. Marvin Gaye is dead. His father shot him.

Rob: I'm tired of the fantasy, because it doesn't really exist. And there are never really any surprises, and it never really.. 

Laura: Delivers? 

Rob: Delivers. And I'm tired of it. And I'm tired of everything else for that matter. But I don't ever seem to get tired of you, so

Rob: Top five things I miss about Laura. One; sense of humor. Very dry, but it can also be warm and forgiving. And she's got one of the best all-time laughs in the history of all-time laughs. She laughs with her entire body. Two; she's got character. Or at least she had character before the Ian nightmare. She's loyal and honest, and she doesn't even take it out on people when she's having a bad day. That's character. [holds up three fingers] Three; [long pause, hesitantly] I miss her smell. And the way she tastes. It's a mystery of human chemistry and I don't understand it, some people, as far as their senses are concerned, just feel like home. [shakes his head, recollecting, then looks back and lip synchs 'four' while holding up four fingers] I really dig how she walks around. It's like she doesn't care how she looks or what she projects and it's not that she doesn't care it's just, she's not affected I guess, and that gives her grace. And five; she does this thing in bed when she can't get to sleep, she kinda half moans and then rubs her feet together an equal number of times... it just kills me. Believe me, I mean, I could do a Top Five Things About Her That Drive Me Crazy but it's just your garden variety, women, you know, schizo stuff and that's the kind of thing that got me here. 

Dick: I guess it looks as if you're reorganizing your records. What is this though? Chronological? 

Rob: No... 

Dick: Not alphabetical... 

Rob: Nope. 

Dick: What? 

Rob: Autobiographical. 

Dick: No fucking way. 

Tempted? Lynn you almost-comedy whore, I know you are. Anyhow, I should get cracking on my ddddddddemo. Love is when the most princess-y of friends delays La Vie Boheme picnic by an hour so you'll only be..thirty three minutes late, instead of 93. I am grateful, it's just that gratitude is the one emotion I've never quite mastered the art of expressing in type without sounding trite or sarcastic. GOD SHINE HIS BLESSINGS ON YOU NATALIE BALAKRISHNAN

xx, Shu

when you are with the right people,

plans translate into realities that are as good as they promise to be,

disappointment is nothing more than a vague, elusive concept,

and technicolor is always the palette of the day.

ps, Joel and Trist, please come home. Grovovia (gun) salutes you

xxx

ggggggunther's

sssssshisha

mmmambo

you like? i give you gooood price

technicolor december

come kids, let's not wear ourselves out, the party's just starting and the water's warm 

it doesn't even matter that the air's full of suspended stickiness;
tonight we walk forever, i'm home x)

   

; only when you're sleeping

Kissing my virgin World History course goodbye. Those three hours this morning were...good. This isn't 76-101, it's Nostalgia 101. I liked how Rouse put us all in the huge Doherty hall that we've been having lectures in from the get go. Kevin paced up and down and gave us his dorky-cool crooked encouraging smiles and waved extra Blue Books around "just in case you want one, just shout guys" and I don't know if I was the only one, but I spent a good 1/6 or 1/5 of the time reclining back in my chair and thinking about how this course has cranked open my consciousness and peeled an entire layer off my corneas. Not the most romantic way to put it, but that was what it did, down to a T. It's the first time I felt like I was writing reflections on my position in a post-war, pre, post, and mid-crisis, capitalist homogenized-global-culture world, rather than engineering a checklist of gimme-points. Didactic? You bet'cha. Judging from what I saw most of us finished in about 2 hours or so, but everyone sat and chewed pens, looked 'round, flipped and read and flipped again, added in words and phrases and perfunctory thoughts at several-minute intervals. It was nice how at the three hour mark everyone headed for their TAs and queued up for hugs/handshakes/cheek-kisses, depending on level of self-reservedness. I gave Kevin several grizzly pecks (this guy is The Shit, hobo-style, complete with Chucks so broken in any indie kid would drool over them and a 4 and a 1/2 day beard) plus the Billy Bragg & Wilco CD I picked up at the Oakland Music Collective for $6.99. He's one of the only three people at CMU (and probably within a 7000 mile radius) who appreciate BB&W. California Stars: word. Anyhow, I stepped out in the chill and the half-rain/half-snow feeling light and oddly sad. Chapter One, closed. 

So I'm sitting in the Rosie Two living room, Gabby, Skylar & Alina are schlepped in varying degrees of dishevelment on the rug in front of the TV flipping between the latest season of Project Runway/Family Guy and old re-runs of That 70's Show. Get this, these girls are all done with their final projects/performances (that's CFA for you, they're cool right down to finals schedules) but they're all taking their time packing up so we'll all leave Roselawn 2 together after my last final. Say, family. 

I can't resist, I feel like one of those sick disgusting mothers who quote every alternate sentence that their newborn kid says, but really, the things that transpire in this living room in the in-between moments are priceless.

As of three minutes ago:

Alina (distressedly): It's not working, icing's supposed to be sticky and, you know, stick to things. Why isn't it sticking, Skylar? Skylar, MAKE IT STICK, make it!

Skylar: Honey you're being too meticulous about it. You have to do it like you love germs. (Sticks 3/4 of hand in Betty Crocker container and transfers unceremoniously onto sponge cake surface)

Alina: (silence)

Skylar: Mmmmm. 

Okay, going to Study Like I Mean It, because that's how much I want to leave CMU with a good taste of me in its mouth tomorrow morning. I didn't phrase that wrong, just so you know.

After tomorrow it's Closing Time, we'll say our goodbyes and close the shutters, unplug the fridge; I'll fill up a little overnight bag and we'll be off to Seven Springs packed with one too many people/snowboards in the car, blasting all the songs we've come to love over this technicolor Fall, and yes, we're going out with a bang.

Til then, til then, friends.

xx, Shu

This is one for the kids in Thailand:

Zach, my little boy no more - silver is gorgeous, gold will come.

Bryan - it was a long time coming, Golden Boy.

Lu & Ser - the game's still young, hit 'em up next time.

In the past nearly-a-week I haven't slept in my own bed once. Not once. The tragedy, hilarity, and madness of it is making me...rather hungry. Recaps are futile when everything is tinted fluoro-green, so I won't attempt any. Schenley Park Sessions have replaced all other healthy/constructive Fall activities. Today en route to walk Shing home from the House one of the KDR boys stopped and asked me where I got "that" - pointing to my Bits&Bobs pouch. Took me all of seven seconds to register that he clearly wasn't trying to find out where to get contact lens solution/Chapstick. The irony that the bag I keep the gayest of necessities in looks like a weed pouch is really, well, ironic. Now, why would I need a weed pouch? Then again, let's not jinx things. (Yudi, the degree of awesomeness of Saturday rests in your hands. Pull through.) On another count, I filled up two Blue Books for the Art History final today and was left last in the room with Ting Chang & Elena smiling and nodding in a disturbingly satisfied manner at me scribble away feverishly. Pressure, anyone? How about a nice dose of Expectation, to go with that. Also, it would be helpful (perhaps to myself, more than anyone) to note that Cluster computers draw out both confusion/despair in my primitive genetic makeup. Deliverance comes in the form of one Korean & one Taiwanese - always smelling like the bubblegum kid's shampoo they share, and ever ready to expend energy kicking printers/hard drives (Hi Christine/Jihea!). Now that home is but a heartbeat away, who ever knew that us strange beings could feel nostalgia for a place we've been in for all of...four and a half months? But no matter, Schenley is beautiful even in the dying strains of autumn and Seven Springs awaits us around the bend of Friday. Designated Driver = Poon, Designated Ski Guru = Qian Wen. Bring on the bruises. On that note, I question if I would have had the guts to go flying down Flagstaff hill on dear compliant Betty if it weren't all covered in powdery precipitation. With no prior relevance, Shing is my Brother From Another Mother, Qian Wen has the prettiest lashes I've ever seen, and if it's physically possible, Wai Yong gets more kissable each time we accidentally-on-purpose cut into each other's queues at the Salt Pepper Chicken food trucks in front of Roselawn. Hurray for good ol' Singaporean buddy boys, dare I say I should have found you all sooner? Yet, myriad future opportunities for dodgy activities abound. At this juncture, though, I should say that, still, Brandon Beats All. (Coming to you in good (short) time, BBF) "Finals-Relief" pancakes at Scott's every morning 7:08 am for the past two days have quelled embarrassing sound emissions during crucial pen-scratch silent final moments. What remains to be seen is if he will discover Cat (not the cat, just Cat) before we cart our tushes out of this Bohemia Den. I hope Skylar keeps her hidden at least up until Scott runs out of pancake-making steam and/or Aunt Jemima's, whichever occurs first.

Bed, anyone? Now, where are my makeshift materials for the night

xx, Shu

OH, PSHAW

If there's just one more thing to add to the list of things I'm rather glad to have, it's those spare sets of eyes and ears in all my far-removed blind spots - quite illuminating. One in said position would be inclined to say, gleefully, "Don't think I don't see/hear it all". Don't quite feel I have to waste those few words, though. I'm not in want of anything. Multiple "eyes-in-the-sky" only say one thing to me: that I have multiple pairs of shoulders to do a collective shrug with me before we indulge in issues of neon-bright levity. No time for non-issues. Out the window - oops, killer litter. Spite is of no use here, it's frankly of no interest to me. And to think, I actually...ah, no bother. I had the excess energy to spare, anyhow, no loss. To quote Philky, "I'm a young and supple nineteen year old." Haha. That reminds me, loveness, Kerpan! KAWS is coming to you in no time.

Snow, non-stop! The brown picnic benches up and down Maggie Mo look oddly like gingerbread blocks with drifts of icing sugar on their tops. Original company for Schenley Park Adventures at First Snow was stalled due to..unforseen circumstances. But it's all good, Winny matched me slip-for-slide this time round. Now, to make vellum snowflakes (leftovers from Gabby's final model, whoopee) and press my nose on the glass at timely intervals. Dave, be patient, your turn will come. Right, er, I'll send you an envelope full of Pittsburgh's Finest White Grain, just in case, well, in case it doesn't. KIDDING DON'T CRY. Mmmkay, am thinking I'd better focus on working these exactos now before I actually manage to hit flesh (mine, or otherwise).

I hope the car engine is fine by tomorrow,

I hope sleet and snow drifts don't keep you in,

I hope that cough is just a cough -

Schenley awaits! I haven't made snow angels, yet. Was self-possessed enough to wait.

xxx, Shu

WELCOME TO GROVOVIA

David Kwok
KING OF GROVOVIA, Resident Chef (Chateau le Kwok), Knight in Shining Armor & Daddy Dave



Shaun Lim
Crown Prince of Grovovia, Honorary Bong King to the Peoples of Shisha Nation (Alcohol Please), Corruption Officer



Natalie Balakrishnan
Princess of Grovovia, OWNS Grovovia, Bag'o'Bones Bala & Gamecube Orchestrator



Joel Cheang
Bitching Subservient Peon to Royal Family, "Jo-el", Civilized Peripheral,
Designated Driver of Princess Phree Philly.



Shu Ming Lim
Princess Phree Philly, The Awesome Sporesome, Sous Chef (Chateau le Kwok),
Purveyor of Neon & Glee



Bertrand Wee
Cousin to Royal Princesses, WILD PARTAYYYY ANIMAL, Resident DJ, Excursion Photographer



Lisa Chong
Grovovian on Probation, Queen of the Books and the Bees, Resident Ruckus-Riler



Tristan Tham
His Royal Marquis from Kingdom of Bishopsland, All-Ages Lady-killer, Purveyor of Shoes



This is in honor of the 50%-of-the-Grovovians-Back-Home's master plans in motion for the return of The Other 50%
Really, guys, Dave and I agreed that the Fbook group, the pre-emptive stealing of Game Cube from the twins to await a massive Mariokart revival, and the baking of the symbolic Hierarchy of Grovovia - it's overwhelming. Brought tears to our eyes eh, Dave. Especially those bears with the pink icing. God bless you, Bala. (And God save you, Jo-el)

This really was a bitch, finding flattering shots of you all, homies. I think I deserve major credit for this one.
Group shots next round JUICE JUICE JUICE

Today's edition:

PRESCRIPTION PIECE
Prescrible pills for going
through the wall and have only
the hair come back
Spring, 1963