curds how delicious

This is how my day ended: walking along Tanglin Road in the darkness, slightly tipsy from drinking Swedish apple cider, trying to remember where I left that last issue of artforum, pretending I'm at a Twin Shadow gig and having the time of my life, realising that I'd rather be alone on a Saturday night thank you very much, waving off migrants trying to sell me calendar pens for charity, contemplating a box of 12 macarons and then deciding to postpone pleasure because my motto for the month of June will be The Calories Can Wait (this will not work, however), reaching home laughing hysterically with E about something that happened this afternoon involving a ball and mysterious cat poop, etc. etc. And then I had a cup of tea from ikea and now I feel almost intensely Swedish this evening. Like there should be at least 2 umlauts in my name. 

I also took photographs because the sunlight was lovely, much like a kitten licking your eyes. But that wouldn't be awesome, because apparently cats have tiny hooks on their little pink tongues, or so I read in a 100 Amazing Facts-type book in the springtime of my existence. Anyway —

I like to think of my dinner as a sort of justice served after today's Macbeth picnic dinner didn't work out with S and M. (That did not come out right.) We were planning to have meatballs, a lovely warm potato casserole and a refreshing summer salad on a picnic mat with killer plaid detailing, but the tickets were just so darn elusive. It was a sad time in our week. Anyway, I managed to snag a small table away from the children's play area to "relax" and "read a book" (but really, I was mostly staring at my Blackberry screen and marveling at how it can display more colours than my family's first desktop computer. Technology is amazing!) 

In the afternoon, A and I went to the FASS open house and (I'd like to think that) we charmed our way into the central library. We entered and asked the librarian at the desk, in her fancy important swivel chair, whether we could perhaps visit the library even though we weren't studying here yet. The thing with librarians in Singapore — are they all sisters or something? She looked just like the librarian in Bishan, who looked like the librarian in my secondary school, who looked like my librarian in JC. They seem to share the same kindly eyes, much like garden gnomes, and Condi's pursed lips. It's constantly fascinating, you know, like in the Sims, where the NPCs all look the same despite having different names? Exactly.

I digress when sleepy. Anyway, she was like, You don't study here so I cannot let you come in. But!— I saw the cheeky gnomic twinkly eyes that said Kids I'm screwin' with ya and played along, giving just a hint of a dejected pout. I'm not sure what A did but she let us in (also pointing out that the entry gate isn't locked.) Also I just want to say here and now that I'd like to die in this library, in between shelves of Spivak and Butler and Eagleton, right there on the immaculately vacuumed carpet. 

I think this giant tome about highway pavements... really expands your world of experience.

Gothic, Victorian things that might be fun to read.

When I get a car, I want to name it Love's Madness.

"Disinterested" marginalia next to a paragraph about Miss Havisham, making this doubly interesting. Ooh.

BADIOU. I feel very intellectually cutting-edge when reading continental philosophy! It's like the comme des garcons of intellectual thought! I am that shallow!

Part of a series called Rewriting the Canon

And we were also lured in with fancy cupcakes that are very Now.

Also I'm too lazy to write much — look, I didn't even format the post properly — but here are pictures of breakfast. There was plaster prata and paper prata. Yay, alliteration + plosives! Lordy lordy I feel like the king of sonics tonight.