Sunday, January 14, 2007

Dominic and I were on a quest to look for last-minute resources for my essay, and thanks to him, I not only found the DVD/CD/scores which I needed, I also belatedly discovered Beard Papa along Oxford Street. I really wanted to buy one, just one (okay, maybe a few) but there's work.

It's been two days, but I can't stop thinking about it. I read about Schoenberg's beard, and I think of Beard Papa. I read about fathers and daughters, and therefore the word 'Papa' comes to mind, and I think of Beard Papa. This craving has turned into a full-fledged and admittedly unhealthy obsession.

If I had bought and ate it there and then, will I still crave for it? Is it because I didn't get to eat it, which is why I'm currently haunted by this humble pastry? I want what I cannot have? Everything that I have eaten thereafter seems devoid of taste and colour. I keep fantasizing about how sweet it will be, and how the texture of it will feel in my mouth, and how exquisitely delicious it will be just for those few seconds.

The easy way out will be to make a trip down to Oxford Street, which isn't too far away, and just purchase it once and for all. But there's also the fear that maybe, just maybe, it won't live up to my expectations and it won't taste just as good. So rather than risk the chance of disappointment, I'll very much prefer to keep the unfulfilled longing and desire for the sanctified Beard Papa pastry that exists in my mind.

It's all in the mind, it's all in the mind. I'm currently trying to trick my mind into thinking that Beard Papa isn't that delicious after all, and I can live without eating it. The trickster tricks herself for the second time. The trickster tricked.

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

Old wounds hurt most, I learned this today, becaus...
She speaks, repeating the old litanies, of worn ac...
time skips
and it all comes together!
beethoven's symphony no.7 2nd mvt
again,
towards that something
In the alley of shadows and death
Masking Tape
another end of the world

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
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March 2006
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June 2006
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August 2006
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November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
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June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
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October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
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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.