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Well, I had lunch at some Chinese place with my small group yesterday - the restaurant was called Great China - and though it was chock full of white people, served pretty good Chinese food. I had sweet and sour pork again. Darn, I realize that whenever I'm in a Chinese place here in the states, I usually order the same darned sweet and sour pork. Need more variety. And then there's the fortune cookie.

Owh well, we all know that fortune cookies say presposterous things; but those of you who know me would know that this cookie's kinda pushing it. Personally, and perhaps in a rather conceited way, I like to think that I have a good sense of the aesthetic and artistic composition, though I don't know expressionism from impressionism from all that jazz. I've seen the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, and perhaps the Botero exhibition they're having in Berkeley, if I decide to be less indolent. But my appreciation of art in general is somewhat liking. Modern trends are slightly confusing - I couldn't give a damn about modern visual art and Andy Warhol, but I am quite in favor of the existential theme that is becoming a mainstay in print media and film.

You know what I say? Love live the Japanese. I see myself reading manga and watching anime for a long long time to come. But yeah, earlier this week, I spent about three days reading the eighteen volumes of Ichigo 100%. And Ching Chern, just in case you're reading this, it friggin sucks! (though the artwork is pretty good, Nishino especially) Damn my overwhelming curiosity - if not for my desire to see how the story would end, I would have dropped the series at the first few series. I've seriously got to have better self control the next time.

Anyway, Ichigo 100% is another one of those improbable stories where this total loser of a guy finds utterly hot girls falling for him - and then failing to make a move till the very end. This theme of the total loser finding such success is perhaps a genre in manga, as other titles such as Oh my Goddess, A.I. Love You and Love Hina suggest. A little escapist zone perhaps, where sad otakus can retreat to have their wonderful fairytales.And it's not like I don't sympathize, or empathize, with them - but fairytales are all things that we could do without. Imagine a world where children were brought up on truth, and not the saccharine lies of Disney - how much more we could achieve.

I guess it should be rather obvious that these days I tend to focus almost exclusively on seinen manga. Stuff like Elfin Lied and even Trinity Blood. And it's not just my fixation with evil women (e.g. Lucy <3 ) it's more about the depth of the character involved. But I guess, it all depends on the purpose of the artforms you enjoy. And that's the theme of the comparative literature class I'm taking this semester - the motive of the book. So do you read/watch movies for entertainment or for catharsis? Personally, I'm more for the entertainment, which is why I have such a crass taste in films - all I watch is slapstick crap.

On one hand, I could put more of an effort into appearing to be cultured, but on the other hand I could recognize the pointless stereotyping around us for what it is and live life free from societal expectations. So yeah, the world can keep its art films to itself - right now, all I want is dumb humor. Owh, and this is so totally related (not that there is much a coherent train of thought to my blog posts), but Greek plays have the coolest scenes ever. If you loved the part in Oedipus Rex where Oedipus poked his owns eyes out, you'll adore this snippet from Euripedes' The Medea, describing the death of Jason's virgin bride (lines 1183-1201).

When she, poor girl, opened her shut and speechless eye,
And with a terrible groan she came to herself,
For a twofold pain was moving up against her.
The wreath of gold that was resting around her head
Let forth a fearful stream of all-devouring fire,
And the finely woven dress your children gave her,
Was fastening on the unhappy girl's fine flesh,
She leapt up from the chair, and all on fire she ran,
Shaking her hair now this way and now that, trying
To hurl the diadem away; but fixedly
The gold preserved its grip, and, when she shook her hair,
The more and twice as fiercely the fire blazed out,
Till, beaten by her fate, she fell down to the ground,
Hard to be recognized except by a parent.
Neither the setting of her eyes was plain to see,
Nor the shapeliness of her face. From the top of
Her head there oozed out blood and fire mixed together.
Like the drops on pine-bark, so the flesh from her bones
Dropped away, torn by the hidden fang of the poison.

Owh, the picture that paints ^^ Now, that is truly art that has stood the test of time.

Sigh, I am fortunate enough that there are so many things that I could be blogging about - things that aren't mundane or routine - I just want more time and more diligence