Monday, March 13, 2006

perturbed.

I had the most disturbing of dreams, one which I think you call a 'nightmare', where I was lost in a carpark surrounded by skyscraper concave buildings of orange and grey, and the ground was littered with dead bluebirds, and there were so many, so many of them, especially around the big trees where the menacing branches seemed to be sucking up their life essence in wafts of invisible strands, but I tell myself it's just my imagination, as I tread carefully around the stiff little corpses like a game of hopscotch, and no matter which position they were lying in, all of them had their eyes rolled towards me, isn't that strange?

I looked at my hands and they weren't hands, or at least, they weren't mine and they looked all too familiar, I didn't know why. I faced front and found myself in front of three lifts, with reddish-brown floor tiling and on the right a huge metal honeycomb with bits of white sticking out all over, and I knew, I knew where I was but I just couldn't remember, and what was this insurmountable pain in my chest, and the door opened and I went in, and there was a man inside whose face I could never see. I stood next to him, the doors closed, and the two of us were enveloped in a claustrophobic mass of overwhelming factory blue, as the four walls seemed to close upon us, and his breath on me was bitterly sweet and my smile was sweetly bitter.

The whirr of the ventilator came a stop and there was this moment of silence, of suspension, where you're in sublimal harmony with everything and all is peaceful, all is well, all is good and candy-kind, and of course it's immediately ruined, the light in the lift that I wasn't even aware of had been snuffed out without warning. Plunged into darkness, we plummetted headlong in silence, I wasn't even aware that we were on high ground to begin with, and I made no sound, and I could hear no sound, except that of my unhurried heartbeat, and then I realized I could only see the darkness before my eyes, and nothing else.

If time could have had been measured, I must have fallen for a thousand thousand years, and I felt as if I was falling from myself. Fallen, I found myself sprawled face-down in the very same carpark of dead bluebirds, and had squashed at least three of them beneath my weight. The texture of the tickly feathers against my skin, the coldness and unbearably lumpy shape of their bodies against my own made me scream soundlessly to the world, and the longer I screamed the more I knew - recognition flowed into me in a circular spiral, I found my name, I remembered my name and the person who I was, and the person who I couldn't be, and my chest was so tight, so tight, that I finally ran out of breath and woke up in bed with my eyes wide shut.

The first thing I did was to reach for my chocolates, and the taste in my mouth was reassuringly sweet against my tongue, and I could almost forget the virulent taint that had been left behind. It's great to be alive.

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

Turning point, my turning point is here. It's funn...
it's not my day.
the hills are alive!! with the sound of music.
disconsolate.
i want money to drop down from the sky; window dis...
it's been 250 years.
like a black lamb led by the nose around the cheer...
i must be a wuss..
you have to hear this.
uh oh, this is not funny.

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

And there were phlegmatic souls.