12/31/2019 ‒
Best of the decade

"Oh, right, it's time for the best-of-the-year pop culture lists. I completely forgot about that."

It's been eight months since I closed the music blog, and it seems I've forgotten how to do it. Gone are the days when I'd keep an eye peeled for album announcements and single drops - as if I have done that properly. A part of me wanted to be on top of everything that's going on, but I gave myself a bunch of disclaimers so I have an out when I fail to do so, which is pretty much every single time. This is about the music I have come across, whether it's really new or really old. Or something like that.

That philosophy applied as well to the blog's best-of-the-year lists. Rather, a list of my favorite songs of the year that passed. I don't listen to everything - I cannot listen to everything - so I cannot claim, even to myself, that I have a somewhat definitive take on what really was good from the twelve months or so that passed. So, a list of my favorite songs of the year. Sounds pretty simple, but for six of the blog's seven years I crammed the list, racking my brain for a couple of hours as to what songs I've listened to a lot over the year, and then figuring out whether it fits the criteria, because for all we know, it was actually released the year prior and I'm just really late to it.

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12/24/2019 ‒
The imprecise art of making it sound like Christmas

I mentioned this in passing half a year ago, about how there are songs that make you feel warm and songs that make you feel cool. Well, that, I never had that down precisely, perhaps because, unlike Shalla, I don't have some sort of synesthesia.

Well, after seven years together I sort of do. There was one point when she described GFriend's first Japanese single as "warm", and I immediately understood her. But then, the radio stations I choose to play still raise some heckles, at least if the volume is too high, to the point that she has expressed at least three radio stations she can more or less tolerate.

Two of them are in the French language. One is FIP, this brilliant station that, perhaps unlike every other station, programs its music with no regard for genre, but rather for flow. There are instances when it's on an indie stretch, but there are instances where it's in between classical and exotica. But it does seem to love its vintage funk and its playful jazz. It just sits in nicely with those honey-voiced announcers saying whatever they're saying in between.

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12/18/2019 ‒
Yes, we bought the Muji "tabo"

I'm bad at shots like these.

There were two ladies standing by the shelf, doing heaven knows what exactly. One of them was on the phone, which meant broadcasting to the world that she has the iPhone 11 Pro. (No impact, because a lot of people already seem to have it.) The other was just, I guess, staring at the contents of the shelf.

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12/12/2019 ‒
Fifteen minutes between trains

I wouldn't call myself a frequent user of public transportation - it's partly due to geography - but I certainly have expectations. You can say I was spoiled by my trips abroad, where as much as possible I make it a point to walk, take a bus, or catch a train.

Sure, it can be intimidating, especially if you're faced with a complex system of routes, modes and fares, but once you get it, you get it. I guess it also helps to have one of those contactless cards that you can use to get on a train, or a bus, or any convenience store when you suddenly find yourself hungry and not that willing to rifle through your wallet for money. A couple of years back I got myself an Octopus card, realizing that I was returning to Hong Kong frequently and that it would really come in handy. That, plus updated (and downloaded) maps on my phone, helped Shalla and I get through our vacation there last year without going through most of the usual spots, or having to worry about how to get where we wanted to go. (That said, we regret being short when we considered a trip to Hong Kong Disneyland.)

It also helped that we know - and this was before the disruption of ongoing protests there - that a ride was coming. There are signs a plenty, if you could figure out the system, at least. Also, we knew when a train would be coming. We trusted the announcements because they were right for the most pat, and when they weren't, they were just slightly off. This is the case everywhere we've been to: in Seoul, in Taipei, in Kuala Lumpur (although it feels a little more chaotic, or perhaps it's the tropical temperatures), and in Singapore (although technically we were only there together for eight hours, mostly at the airport).

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12/06/2019 ‒
For all you know

In my defense, I work from home some days. Most days.

Last night was our Christmas party, which meant me running the affair and hosting it, so not a few of our guests have spotted me looking towards nowhere, dazed, recollecting myself. But at least I get to wake up when I want to the next day and work through what else needs to be worked on, although, chances are, I'd be awake at six flat anyway because the sun won't let me sleep. Half past six at the latest. Just five and a half hours of sleep.

Still, it feels weird being the only guy in a sando, shorts and slippers in the elevator. Everybody else around you is getting ready to go to the office.

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