Monday, July 24, 2006

oversleeping.

Catching of breath, when there's none to be caught, the plummeting feeling of knowing that you haven't done what you're supposed to do, that you had wasted all that time on futile sleep, you told yourself just an hour, which turned into two, and then three, and then a multiple of three, and you wake up with two turtle-brains from the lingering nightmare of having disappointed all your loved ones, which still reigns terror over my heart, I was supposed to perform three pieces but I couldn't finish learning them, and I couldn't even sightread them and the performance was in an hour, it was terrifying facing an expectant audience and sight-reading the pieces in front of them, and the look of sheer despondency on your teachers' faces sheared through flesh and bone, and I had to walk through this basement which looked suspiciously like the Old Far East Plaza as punishment, purgatory, which was littered with ghosts with flying feet, the stereotypical long-haired long-tongued hospital-gown clad visages which kept zooming about like Nintendo action figures, bam bam bam, they would crash into the walls and emerge from the other side wholly preserved and through the real people in my dream, and all of them would be none the wiser, none the wiser, and they continue smiling foolishly because they didn't know what had hit them, and they would circle around me in mocking silence, because they knew I knew, and yet I didn't, and they knew that I knew that I somehow knew and didn't at the same time, and they opened their mouths and you can't see anything inside, they've swallowed their tongues like those stage performers who swallow a torch of flame or a very long sword, but you can see the concrete laughter bubbling out in white-and-black dotted rhythms, I'm serious, I'm serious, and you know what, I think I'm slightly hyperventilating so I'm going to stop typing now, get some food, and get down to the 20 sheets of graphs which I promised my teacher today, and I've 4 hours to churn them out, so here goes.

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

one thing at a time.
I bet you're an Aunty at heart too.
it's one of those days.
procrastinating #x.
birthday photos part 2, and 800quid.
birthday photos part 1.
wrong season to hibernate.
pleased.
traviata, but none the wiser.
london chronicles.

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.