spoonfork

no updates. don't ask.

listening to: boom boom satellites - anthem

yesterday:

• spent, or rather wasted the better half of the day at the center of corporatewhoreship. i resent dressing up (slacks, long sleeves and trousers, and well-polished shoes), but attire (or the lack of it) is such a definitive first impression: the power tie, the power suit, the killer shoes, the i'm-made watch. that is how men distinguish each other, hiearchically, in corporatewhoreship. nevermind if you're speaking sub-standard english, but that beitling watch speaks volumes about your business achievements. bla bla bla. so in the evening i decided to buy shirts and pants that are slightly more expensive than the ones i have (you know, i love jusco for selling cheap office attires!) and headed out to g2000. after five minutes, the idea of looking a lot like the next corporatewhore wannabee terrified me so much that i spent the entire evening listening to ben folds five.


• she walked to her car across the street, so selamba-ly, in the rain. she opened the driver's door, and sat inside. then she switched to the passenger's seat, and sat for a while, staring straight ahead. a few moments later, she got out, took a flyer tucked between the wiper and windshield, and got into the car again, in her selamba-fuck-the-rain attitude. i thought that was funny. then she started the car, cursed because there was a car behind that was barely blocking her. she managed to reverse. i took my last drag and went back to work.


• i know i've been listening to a lot of jurassic 5 and blackalicious lately, but that should not be the reason my neighbor left a piece of empty maggie mee curry packet in front of my apartment. three days ago, there was a single piece of used tissue paper. what's next?

and finally, and obligatory picture of our beloved minister of ministers:



listening to: dire straits - money for nothing

hello, stranger.

• two completely opposite reviews of dj krush's message at the depth: here and here. and here's an mp3: dj krush - the world moves on.


• here's an interview with elbow in popmatters.
  spoonfork: you know elbow is such an insignificant name for a band one clever auntie: oh no it's not! elbow is one of the most important parts of the human body spoonfork: huh? one clever auntie: come to think of it - how are you going to masturbate without an elbow? spoonfork: **thinks hard** spoonfork: yeah, you hit the nail there
  


• musiccanteen top 10 podcast: here. "do you really?" by zalila lee in part 2 of episode 8 makes me wanna puke. can anyone write lyrics worst than this?


• oh hey, gigs. i haven't zoned in to local music scene. so i wanna make it up by going to gigs. so, heh, if you know of any cool gigs (or don't mind being in the company of a music snob) do let me know.


• gah! i'm out of stuff to listen to. recommendations?

listening to: x-tracks - plan 94 (the voyage)

[ this is a keeping-up-with-the-joneses posting]

a few years back, sometime in 2002 if i recall correctly, there was this three weeks in my life where i received the weirdest of phone calls, ever. at around at 1 to 3 am saturday morning, a particular chinese lady called, and started sobbing on the phone. it was a number that i didn't know, and a voice that was not familiar, so it was, a genuine wrong number. but no matter how many times i said "missy, you got the wrong number" or "leng lui, you got the wrong number" or "i'm not the man you're looking for", the replies were sad, and worst of all, desperate. the lady, who was obviously tipsy, and judging from her constant sobbing, to a point where she could hardly talk will reply in cantonese. she would say (no, i comprehend a bit of cantonese but i just can't speak it) something along the lines of "where are you?". or after i hung up, she'd called and said "why do you don't want to talk to me? why do you don't want to talk to me? why do you don't want to talk to me? why do you don't want to talk to me?" or sometimes "why are you being like this? why are you being like this? why are you being like this? why are you being like this? why are you being like this?".

after the first call i was quite pissed. i mean, can't she tell that she got the wrong number? she'd called four or five times, each time almost exactly a minute after i hung up, and each time she would repeat, in a sad fragile and utterly desperate voice why the person in the other end would ignore her calls, not speak to her, and lied to her.

on the 3rd week i ignored the calls. that was when it stopped. thinking back about this, i feel very sorry for the lady. i don't know who she was, and she had no idea that she called the wrong person. she was obviously drunk, drunk due to some kind of heartache, and there was nothing i could do except saying wrong number. she didn't even understand my english - maybe she did understand what i was saying but she was adamant that i was the right person so she kept talking cantonese. and she was sobbing all the way. really, i feel sorry for not being able to help.

so, what's the weirdest call you've ever get?

listening to: the cure - wrong number

being sick suck (nice coinage, eh?). anyways, for me, i can't really tell whether i'm sick or not unless these things happen (and they did happened):

• went to the car park and found out that the car wasn't there. tried hard thinking where you'd might have parked the car.


• pressed 13, confidently walked out of the lift and proceeded to open a weird looking door grill. after an obligatory moment of puzzlement, you'd realize it wasn't your apartment, nor your floor.


• eating medicines: see i already ate that bloody medicine and nothing's happening. that means i'm not sick goddamnit.


• sean paul's we be burnin', the type of commercial shit that you totally loathe, kept on playing in ya'head all day despite your bestest attempt to get rid of it (which included watching 12 hot japanese chicks molesting a guy)

man, i feel like i want to join a stupid survey and earn RM100, like what leech did today.

and, oh, for you guys throwing mandarin oranges, don't get drowned, mmmkay?

p/s: if i died of sickness, you all are welcome to burn incense on my grave and ask for 4-digit numbers.