Photography, both mine and others’.

I snap back, Only for a moment. Mostly, I don’t seem to slow down

March 11, 2011

I had a really ghastly day today, one of the worst so far this year. It’s only the 2nd week back at uni and already I am so stressed out I think I’m going to snap. It’s largely the inter-people problems that have me baffled the most – it’s such a small department you don’t want to piss anyone off, but what happens when someone really pisses you off?!! I’ll cut myself short there before I start an endless rant about everything which will only send me to bed more wound up.

Instead, I’ll recommend something: BookDepository.co.uk. Not only do they ship for free internationally, but they also do a really sweet deal. I managed to get my Real Book within a week of ordering it, and at only a fraction of the price of what other websites or local bookstores can offer me.

Also, I dug up some very old photos from hockey tournament back in 2008. Here are three lovely view from our hotel room at Surfer’s Paradise on the Gold Coast that I wish I could be brought back to…

And that’s just the river side of things.

I’ve realised that I really need to set down a date for sometime in term break, where I will indulge in something awesome… some sort of exciting event that I can look forward to. I think I would be much more motivated during the next 4 remaining weeks of the first half of semester one, if I could find something to work towards and be really excited and enthusiastic about. Also, I’m seeing MGMT in a week’s time; and I know that it sounds awful, but I don’t have a tendency to work myself up and get excited towards gigs, so I am and will be feeling pretty blasé until it actually happens. Is anything life-changingly awesome happening in 4 weeks’ time?

In the meantime, late night scribbles concocted seconds ago:

We’re missing, messing everything
In the moment
nothing can slow us down.
We’re kissing, caressing every
Moment
nothing will draw a frown.

and in those heartbeats
where we sharply inhale
with half held breath
as if pausing could freeze
perfection forever.

We’re young, for now, only
for a moment
until the sun comes round.
We’re reunited, requited,
and in you
my heart was found.

Hands down – I’m too proud for love, But with eyes shut, It’s you I’m thinking of. Eye to eye, Thigh to Thigh, I let go. And for you I keep my legs apart, And forget about my tainted heart

March 6, 2011

I’ve been feeling like a bit of a social-grandma since uni has officially started once again, and I’ve been having quiet nights in like a normal person. Maybe I just used to party too hard “when I was younger”, and thus anything short of going out all the time seems like a reclusive thing to do. Being part of the jazz department, my classes and timetable are still not 100% confirmed yet, and it’s an annoying, growing source of stress. Ironic how everyone else loves the “first week back because it’s so relaxed”, yet I knew mine wouldn’t be, and it hasn’t been indeed.

Highlight of my first week back at uni was getting to see Jack DeJohnette on Friday, where he did a public workshop and a Q&A session. I managed to get a photo with him, but it’s very unflattering so I’m not going to post it here, haha.

The week’s main event on the menu, however, was the boy’s 21st birthday party last night. I didn’t take that many photos because I couldn’t be bothered carrying my camera around, so it was abandoned in his room in the company of the dog for hours instead. Although I must admit that most of the following photos were taken whilst I wasn’t on the sober side of things, so nothing is particularly amazing, from a photographic standpoint. But who cares – it was an amazing night for all involved, and that’s what matters more.

Photos from last night:

Inhaling helium is so much
Less
effective when
no longer so
Young

with Party-glazed eyes I scanned the room
and the source of
Contrast
is
Him.

Louder than high,
our voices
the word She
Repeated, repeated. Repeated.
and then again.

and when his speech
Acknowledged me and the
Whole.
Room.
Turned.
my cheeks flushed a pink
more rouge than my new lipstick
which we then shared.

Dim.
the romance of candlelit corners
and ferry-lit seams of the room.

Effortless,
he extinguished the flames which
we are taught, represents the years, his years.
We’re not supposed to count the years
but make the years count –
and yet, who isn’t counting?

/// /// /// // // /// /////

By this point in time I
was no longer aware of much else

and was facing completely the
Wrong way.
But it was funny to see things from
the cramped corner, in which I had to blow out a candle
just to stand in.

It’s obvious just how unusual last night was for me, from the sheer fact that I even forgot to have some cake.

This picture was just too… uhh yeaaah… to not put up.

I didn’t take either of the following pictures, but it seems that the men of that household are both capable of making me look nice in a photograph. Something I don’t say often. At all.

taken by his dad.

by the boy:
the morning after.

So we hold it close, When we feel the most – Like a love that we could not leave behind

February 20, 2011

Three photos I took in LACMA a couple of months ago. I don’t know what it is with my obsession – and often OCD – about numbers; especially the number 3.

I have such a great love of art galleries, art museums… and as I mentioned here, I’m often more preoccupied with the space itself, rather than what’s in it. I took those photos in a section of the art museum where the minimalism just got too much and I was far more interested in the floorboards and white walls, than the large canvases featuring large blocks of colours that were on said walls. I know, I know – it sounds terrible – but whilst I’m into countless forms of art, there are just some things I find more fascinating than this “minimalistic” theme in this wing of things.

“Those who are trying to find love will end up with hatred, frustration and insanity. Those who are trying to find wealth will end up totally neurotic, psychotic and totally crab. Because if you are trying to find something, you have basically, intentionally, intuitively, and individually accepted that you do not have it.” – Yogi Bhajan

I read this quote just before, and it’s completely gripped me in the sense that I find it so true. Or at least, the latter part of it. Such a bittersweet declaration that most of us would not think of viewing things this way. Or perhaps, more correctly, we wouldn’t want to.

The good news with me posting this blog entry is that, hurray, I’m still alive and haven’t suffered from any major nerve damages from my wisdom teeth removal surgery on Thursday. The bad news is that all those worries I had about general anesthesia should have been the least of my worries. Shortly after surgery (sometime after 8am), I woke at around 9.15am and the first thing that gripped me was how sore my throat was, from whatever pipes they had shoved down it to help me breathe and suck out saliva, etc. The next thing that I felt was the fact that I couldn’t feel most of the bottom half of my face. All of this so far is pretty standard, thus far, and I was relieved when my surgeon said I should be able to feel in a few hours, and that I would be able to eat rather normally by that evening – fantastic news, really, as I was starving by that point.

However, my paranoia and problems began when I started asking my sister, my friends and friends of friends who had had their wisdom teeth removed as well, to see how long it was before they regained feeling in their mouths. My sister merely said “a few hours”, and the worst I’d heard was “12 hours”, so I was thinking surely, by midnight at the latest, I would be able to feel and move my mouth. I spent much of the day mooching and lounging around, reading, watching TV, falling asleep in the boy’s arms whilst watching TV – that sort of thing – and making a general dick of myself by not being able to talk properly because I couldn’t feel my tongue and my jaw was locked up pretty tightly.

By the midnight, 1am mark, everyone had gone to sleep, and I asked my mother to wake me up in the morning to see whether or not I could feel or not, or if I should ring my surgeon up (apparently she had nightmares about this, oops). I was starting to freak out that I wasn’t even feeling any tingling in my face, you know, signs that the local anesthesia was wearing off – and my bottom lip was cold! I even started having thoughts as to whether I’d rather I had a paralysed leg or a paralysed bottom jaw… my imagination pretty much took off and ran far, far away into the realms of worst case scenarios. After failing to sleep in bed, I ended up on the couch, channel surfing and trying desperately to fall asleep. I ended up making myself a “cup-a-soup”, which I had to keep sticking my finger in, to make sure it wasn’t too hot and that I don’t burn my mouth – because obviously, I couldn’t feel a thing. Luckily, the hot soup seemed to help bring some further tingling and feeling into my tongue, except that it didn’t affect anything else. The last time I glanced at the clock was 3am and my imagination was driving me insane.

The next thing I knew, I woke to my cat prodding my face at 5am. And I thought my face! I can feel! I’ve never been so happy to be woken up at such an hour by my cat before, and the rush of adrenalin resulted in me not being able to sleep for the rest of the day.

Anyway, the point is – yes, I can feel everything now, thankfully, although unfortunately, these painkillers aren’t doing anywhere near enough to help sedate this constant pain I have, even when I’m not moving my mouth. I succeeded in my endeavour to devour an amazing burger from Burger Wisconsin today, but I had to cut it up into tiny pieces with a knife and fork in order to eat it. In the meantime, I keep checking on these stitches of mine, wishing and hoping that they would quickly dissolve and my wounds will heal so that my favourite pastimes (it seems to be) of talking and eating wouldn’t be so painful!

I’ve been listening to Radiohead’s new King of Limbs – does anyone have any thoughts on it yet? It’s on its second play right now, and I’m rather undecided. I guess it will be typical for it to grow on me (as I expect it to), but thus far only one track has really stood out to me.

For love is the breath, For the scariest things are not half as enslaved

February 14, 2011

Even though I’m not its biggest fan – Happy Valentine’s Day. Even though I’m far from domesticated, I did something sweet and cooked the poor boy dinner last night and even delivered it to him, because he’s been essay writing and studying for an exam that’s on tomorrow.

I think the main thing that I can’t stand about Valentine’s day is all the articles in the newspaper, magazines and on the internet about “tips” or “do’s and don’ts”, etc similar “how-to” guides for males. Sure, it’s nice that the world of consumerism is trying to help males in this world with trying to please their lady-friends – but I just think that even the tiniest romantic gesture would be a thousand times sweeter, if he conceived of the idea himself. Furthermore, I think romantic gestures in general would be way more romantic when not conducted on Valentine’s. It’s the one day of the year where so many girls say “no I don’t want anything for Valentines” or “I’m not expecting anything, it’s okay” – in terms of chocolate, roses and a card – whilst they are secretly teeming with anticipation in the hopes that maybe their boy will do something sweet anyway! Seriously – how many people knows someone like this?!

On the wave of social issues, here’s some food for thought: if someone (with seemingly no reason to lie or shit stir) told you that someone in your circle of friends went around saying something waaay untrue of a veeery private nature about you a couple of years ago – would you ever ask/confront the person in question whether they did or not? Knowing that they will very likely deny it even if it were true?

Also, I always find it funny how much you can tell about a person by the way they deal with money amongst their friends – and how nit-picky people get about owing small change. And in case it wasn’t obvious enough, I wasn’t saying that in a good way either.

Another thing that’s stressing me out this week is that I am getting my three remaining wisdom teeth surgically removed – under general anesthesia – and frankly, I am freaking out about it. In addition to this, it’s three days before the surgery now, and I still haven’t gotten all the paper work sorted yet! My surgeon works at three separate clinics (if not more, unbeknownst to me), and my health insurance needs a fax reply to them to confirm the procedure that I’m getting done, before they will approve paying for it. The trouble is, they faxed it to him main office, which isn’t the one I’m seeing him at (and thus doesn’t have my files), but he only works once a week or once a fortnight at the clinic that I’m seeing him at, so everything is getting lost in translation between fax machines and three different clinics and the health insurance company. ARGH!!!!!!!!

Here are some photos of Yeasayer from Laneway a couple of weeks back:

We parked too close to the water and watched the Seven Swans, Who cares? Who’s right, we mis-gambled pros and cons

February 11, 2011

Between the 6th and 10th of February, I single-handedly drove more than 1700km on our road trip, circumnavigating much of the North Island.

There was too much drama in merely resizing the 69 photos I picked out for this post, let alone if I were to recount the trip in descriptive detail. We drove from Auckland to Gisborne, then from Gisborne to Wellington – where we saw Sufjan Stevens at the Opera House – and then back to Auckland, continuing further north up to the Whangaparaoa peninsula where we camped for our final night. We sang-along, played I-spy (with my English Rose/Asian eyes), played 20 questions, pulled over at random beaches and lakes, fed ourselves too much, complained about the heat, laughed, cried, fought, read, waited, and waited, and most of all, watched in awe as Sufjan Stevens put on the greatest show I’ve ever been to thus far in my life. I don’t think any concert this year will top his show. I was gutted that he didn’t play my favourite song of his (“To Be Alone With You”) in Wellington, but had played it in Auckland, especially after we drove such a long way – but I’m certain that the Welly gig trumped that of Auckland’s, the night prior. Plus, he played more songs in Wellington than in Auckland. I was afraid that the house was going to come down, after such a raucous demand for an encore, but all was worth the while when he resumed onstage. I feel a bit smugly apologetic to the inexperienced concert-goers who left before the house lights came on, before the encore, before the show was over!

I have to admit, I wasn’t allowed to take any photos at the show, so everything below from the concert are actually contraband – although I did nicely obey and cease to photograph after personally being told off. The one major downside to that is, moments after having been told off, the most picture-perfect moment presented itself, and made me want to cry. I wanted to cry because of how amazing he was, how amazing the show had been, and how I was distraught I couldn’t photographically record the single moment in which all of this was epitomised. When Sufjan got back onstage for his encore and sat at the piano on the very destroyed stage that was covered in props, scattered confetti and leftover balloons, the angle at which he sat, the angle at which the piano was placed in relation to the angle my seat was at… the precise lighting and the way it was cast onto him… everything about that moment was about the most photogenic thing I had ever seen. And in all of irony, in my bag by my feet was my forbidden camera. Furthermore, in my car that was parked a $12 taxi-ride away in Newtown, sat my longer lens. Nonetheless, I felt myself hold that breath longer than any other during the show. I still can’t decide if, when I want to cry thinking about the Sufjan Stevens concert, it’s because of the sheer amazement and awe he brought upon me onstage that night, or because of the missed photo opportunity, or because he didn’t play my favourite song. Maybe it was all three. But maybe the combination of all these things all contributed to making the evening even more bittersweet.

Anyway, here are some photos from the roadtrip. The first beach pictured is a place I would love to revisit:

The random beach we stopped at on our way to Gisborne. First heat attack of the day, once we left the comforts of air con that was courtesy of mum’s Toyota!

Sunset at the beach in Gisborne.

We parked too closed to the water and watched the Seven Swans. Somewhere between Gisborne and Wellington.

Got a bit scared it might come looking for food, so promptly shut the car door after this was taken.

Monsoon Poon in Wellington for dinner.

Good old Wellywood.

Some sculpture thing taking place near the waterfront.

Self.

There was a set of nice poetry in the City Gallery that I enjoyed the most.

I always seem more preoccupied with the way a gallery looks rather than what’s in half of it…

Iconic.

Art work outside Te Papa.

View from inside Te Papa.

The restaurant we returned to on the second night, since we couldn’t get a seat previously.

Amazing dinner. That garlic butter on the steak, on the hash brown with the coleslaw, oh my godddddd.

Sufjan Stevens had an 11-piece band, with screens that were brought down or risen off the stage, depending on the projection display for each song. They were also all wearing florescent gaffer tape!