My posting frequency this year is abysmal, it's like I put my blog on hiatus. It's not.
I've just come back from the Night Festival, and I cannot help but feel slightly underwhelmed. Maybe it's the fact that I didn't stay to watch the highlight of the festival outside the National Museum, or that the fumes from the "Community Graffiti" wall (community graffiti is, conceptually, bullshit) that seeped into The Substation and possessed me with horrible nauseas, or that I couldn't get past the crowds into the Abusement Park within the art museum. Having said that, it was a good respite from being cooped up at home writing essays — I nearly died when a fluorescent lamp exploded next to me, had a nice walk from SAM to Dhoby Gaut, saw an interesting performance where transvestite performance artists offered spectators condoms to blow up and write their dreams on, and found some cool vintage cameras at fleatique (unfortunately, weird and unsettling smells emanated from that stall).
Also, I'm still in mourning for the kitten.
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