Wednesday, September 17, 2008

as the room somewhat spins

Dreadfully exhausted, I am.

Monday, September 15, 2008

since i won't be sleeping tonight,

A flurry of events, coupled with piercing jabs, like muay thai, don't you know. Not that I know how that feels like, but facile is thought and think, such is the nature of life when least like.

Chains of generations past, tangle the woven web, that should brook for no interference, and yet, the forced compromise.

I forgot to bring back my stack of marking for tomorrow. Flipping tables, I am.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.

You know how sometimes the false world descends, and lifts up, the slanted glimpse of sunlight just bright enough to rouse the sleeping Unwanted, father of the Unwanted Necessary.

That it is only too easy to have him sleep for the next few days, this effortless flick of a wrist, and that it does not hurt - that is what hurts the most, I think.

Localising things now, it's all heating up to a mad boil, with the exams for the kids and trying to find that area between the black and white, so as to conduct a fair test for them. The doubts plague, of course they do, have they not because I have not, or have they not because I could not,

and it goes on, the swirling of sand grains above the dusty black canopy of underlined expiry dates. Which should be peripheral and inconsequential, but what it is to me is not for the rest of those under my capricious wing.

Monday, September 08, 2008

never and always.

I have spoken to a few about the power of the mind over the years, self-fulfilling prophecies, the penchant for self-sabotage, standing fast in bad faith to avoid challenging passion's illusions (somewhat cosi fan tutte), that sorta thing.

It's not that bad now, I have somewhat learned, but each fall and slip ironically engenders even more pessimism and gloom due to its relative infrequency. One can get used to any mode or contentious definition of success, as it would seem.

Muss es sein? Es muss sein!

Monday, September 01, 2008

before september slavery kicks in; batti, batti.

Against my better judgment (one of those rare times, anyway), I've caved in and bought Laclos' Les Liaisons dangereuses. This is one book which I've always wanted to buy. Have started reading it and now, I find it exceedingly difficult to put the book down. And there are so many other important matters at hand to attend to..! Not to mention the tons of other books (for work and for leisure) that I have yet to even begin. Bad move, bad girl.

So far, it has been a most excellent read. It's in epistolary form, which indulges the unrepentant voyeur in me, so that's good. But it's leaving such a bad taste in my mouth, I am upset, but only because one identifies and recognises familiar characters of the past (amongst other themes). And one sees the characters heading for that doomed trajectory of events which you know all too well; the outcome, inevitable.

It will probably be an old-new epiphany for me when I get to the end of the book, coupled with recent happenings around me. I am somewhat crestfallen, yet there are these pixels of hope which glow even stronger within, and the fervent/desperate want for things to be different, for things to turn out right, for us all to be deliriously happy.

Surprisingly enough, or not, it's really very simple. But far from easy. It's such a ridiculous understatement, but all invisible forms of censorship decree it to be so. On this blog, anyway.

The old friends of mine will be happy to know that I'm learning to speak up and not sequester all that I feel beneath still waters, or behind a smile. But even as I type this, I am forlorn, for I know that I'll be proven right anyway, in that I am always in the wrong.

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
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.