anniversary away.

today is the one year anniversary of the day i moved to london town.

and to celebrate:

‘an anniversary away’ by reverie sound revue.

(a repeat post sort of, but i’m working on a deadline here.)

sunshine.

i used to hear this one track every time i went to this club my friends and i frequented in toronto. it was definitely a favourite, but i never knew who it was by.

when i moved across the pond, i didn’t hear it for ages. the first time i heard it in london was on my birthday. some friends and i went to see gilles peterson spin (of course) and when he played the track, i went absolutely mad for it. it was perfect.

but still… i didn’t know who it was or what the track was called, if it was a remix… nothing.

that was until last week. when, in my groupie-fest mode, i listened to some old gp podcasts and heard it. of course that was the one track from the podcast that was listed simply as ’special’ but i was able to track it down and found the singer/songwriter performing it here:

alternatively there’s this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Je728361nA8

but i warn you: the latter has a rubbish slideshow behind it… and it’s only a clip… but it’s closer to what i heard in the clubs and more importantly, it was enough to synchonize a 1.5-minute, inter-continental dance party with some of my mates who are now scattered across north america.

two cents.

from nytimes.com:

 

September 13, 2007,  1:31 am

A Return to Fiction

According to an article in today’s New York Times, James Frey, the author who admitted making up portions of his best-selling memoir “A Million Little Pieces,” has signed a new book deal for his novel “Bright Shiny Morning” with HarperCollins. After a widely publicized rebuke by Oprah Winfrey, who had selected “A Million Little Pieces” for her television book club, the publisher of his previous memoir canceled plans to publish his novel.

Jonathan Burnham, who negotiated the deal for “Bright Shiny Morning,” said that Mr. Frey was a “media lightning rod” but that “my opinion about James Frey and whatever he did is beside the point.”

“What matters is this is a very, very good work of fiction, and it very much stands up on its own.”

Would you be interested in James Frey’s new book?

******

it’s wednesday.

the little things…

this is a great track… got me through the day and put a little swing in my step.

amy winehouse – ‘tears dry on their own’

soil and “pimp” sessions.

yeah.

in fact, hell yeah.

dance good.

‘i do believe marcellus wallace, your boss, my husband, told you to take me out and do whatever i wanted. now i wanna dance, now i wanna win. i want that trophy, so dance good.’

i met him. under not-so-ideal circumstances. i completely missed his set and was so disappointed about this that i was just frazzled when i shook gilles peterson’s hand. i love this english expression because it’s just so apt: i was gutted.

but yes, i said hello. only, i don’t think i actually told him my name. but we were kinda yelling over the music anyway… nothing special. two seconds… and then i watched as he wheeled his record bag up the street and disappeared into the night.

i was more disappointed about missing his (FREE) set… solo dance parties in your room while streaming his show online just isn’t the same… although it has its benefits all its own.

so, now i wanna dance, now i wanna win.

in a month, when he returns to london… we will rock out.

i wanna win that trophy, so dance good.

cliffhanger.

when the first four episodes of season three of the brilliant show weeds (the story of a suburban mother of two who begins to deal pot in her posh neighbourhood when she suddenly finds herself struggling to make ends meet after her husband dies of a heart attack – it’s fantastic) was leaked online a month before the intended air date of the season premiere, i thought it was a wonderful gift. season two’s cliffhanger was resolved and the following three episodes were ready for viewing one after the other. i quickly and easily devoured them. it was a happy occasion.

until last week.

when i checked to see if the actually air dates had not yet caught up with my own viewing, i was sorely disappointed.

i checked the website. they were still only on just about to air episode three. i still had two more weeks to wait for the next new episode.

it’s not as though the end of the fourth episode was a cliffhanger. it wasn’t like the season finale of last season. but still… it didn’t feel right to have to wait two more weeks for something i inherently believed was due a month before.

in an attempt to dull my desire for the fifth episode of season three, i went back and watched bits of season one. this, i thought, would at least fulfill my need for weeds. but alas… i already knew what was going to happen. i know the plot, where it was all going. i could map out how the storylines in season one were eventually going to lead to the pickle the characters were in now. and by now i mean, my time. internet tv time.

so, after catching up with entourage, i wait. i wait for not only the next episode of weeds, but for the day when frivolous things such as waiting for the next episode of a television series no longer upsets me.

i get the feeling the former will be resolved much sooner than the latter.

off white/off yellow

today after work, i made the trek to chinatown in central london to purchase rice, a staple in my kitchen, as in many, if not all, asian kitchens. my uber-western/whitey self cannot live knowing that there is less than 1 cup of rice in my pantry. it’s in my blood. it’s a part of my heritage (as i write that, i’m picturing george’s dad, frank, from seinfeld yelling that when george denounces festivus… ‘a festivus for the rest of us!’)!!!!!

right, so i go to the grocery store i always go to and head straight to the rice section. i take a 10 lbs bag off the shelf and walk to the counter. this is all i need… and this is the biggest size they sell that i can comfortably carry all the way home.

10 lbs is a decent amount. the bag itself is the size of say, a super fluffy airplane pillow… only it weighs 10 lbs. the woman behind the counter puts the bag into a plastic bag as i pay. many people might think you need to double bag 10 lbs of rice in a plastic bag, but no, these people know, just as i do, that the handles will do just fine and get me home intact. special asian grocery store bags are designed for just this kind of task. that said, i prefer not to carry it in a way that might ordinarily break the handles. carrying it by the handles weighs me down on one side, i’m short so it may just drag along behind me and rip the bottom (spilling precious white rice all over soho), the plastic cuts through your hand as your fingers turn blue… no. my method of choice is to carry it like i would a pile of books or a baby – in one arm, close to my chest… or more poetically, close to my heart.

as i walked through soho to get to my bus stop, i noticed people looking at me… were they wondering what i was carrying? or were they wondering why i was carrying a 10 lbs bag of rice to tenderly? perhaps they were wondering why an asian girl was carrying such a small bag of rice because really what kind of asian are you if you don’t have a 20 or 50 lbs bag of rice in your pantry? well, i can tell you, i’m an off yellow one, that’s what kind. and without a rice cooker, i’m a ghetto one at that.

?uest & gp

there are few people that i would truly feel starstruck around. i don’t tend to believe famous people are much to get excited about anymore – they’re people too. just a handshake, intro, ‘i love your work. keep it up,’ or something of the like…

granted, i haven’t met that many (mainly because i choose to let them be when i see them), but the few that i have, i keep it short when i decide to bug them.

that said, just over a year ago, my sister took part in a music event of epic proportions: jay-z came out of retirement to play radio city music hall in nyc.

of course participation in such an event required rehearsals. rehearsals required certain participants. of those participants one in particular makes me giddy like a little girlie…

i wasn’t in nyc, so i didn’t meet the person, but after the rehearsal gig at the nokia theatre on 24 june, my sister rang me: ‘hey, just walked off stage. great show. hold on a sec.’she covered the mouth piece but i could still hear: ‘can you say hi to my little sister?’

she passed the phone.

she passed the phone to ?uestlove.

?uestlove.

drummer/producer/dj/all-round-supa-fly-mista-wit-da-junk-in-da-trunk.

this is the point in the story when things become a bit blurry and i kinda lost it. i remember pacing most of my flat thinking my bladder would explode while ?uest jokingly asked why i wasn’t at the gig, ‘what, you don’t have $500 to get tickets for the show off ebay?’ i had to cover the mouthpiece as i giggled uncontrollably. at one point, i recall walking out onto my balcony trying to get some fresh air to calm myself down.

famous last words: before he hung up, i said, ‘it’s been a pleasure talking to you. have a good night… oh, and i love your hair!’

‘hahaha – thanks.’

he laughed.

HE LAUGHED!! I MADE ?UEST LAUGH!!

yes, i was a girl of 13 again. and yes, it was good. it was really good. i remember jumping up and down on my balcony when i hung up and in a way, i was grateful that i hadn’t met him in person. gushing on pure adrenaline is so unattractive. and the uncontrollable giggling, well, if i was actually born in asia and spoke with broken english, it might be seen as cute, but with my potty-mouthed, canadian accent, it’s just kinda wrong.

i’ve been thinking about this episode because i am potentially meeting someone else that could probably incite that kind of reaction this week. he’s the one sat on the other side of the table of ?uestlove here:

i think more than anything else, these two men amaze me with both quality and quantity in their work, diversity and the kind of humility that only comes with success rendered from the most genuine of intentions.

i passed on an opportunity to introduce myself to gilles peterson last week. i was at a small jazz club, i knew one of the performers and i knew gilles would be there (elan mehler quartet whose record is coming out tomorrow on gp’s record label). my friends laughed at me as i began to feel giddy when i spotted him at the small venue. i started to giggle. i don’t think they’d ever seen my giggle before… or flap my arms ever so slightly by my sides to try and shake the adrenaline out of me.

after going back and listening to old podcasts of his shows, i think i’ve worked it out of my system. i think i’m able to focus on why it is i want to meet him (other than the obvious, i want to become his best friend and confidante, travel the world with him and dance at his gigs) – ’cause he’s just so good at what he does and i respect and admire that.

i can’t promise i won’t hit on him if it feels right to do so, but i can promise i’ll actually introduce myself to him when i see him this week.