talking of Michaelangelo.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
-
on a glossy page // 4:40 am
was reminded of this lately... read this a couple years ago...
Angels
by Victoria Duncan
They say angels are desperately jealous of humans
because they are spirits and can never live in
the paradise of the world of the senses.
I think the envy is a little deeper.
I think angels can perceive this world,
but never experience it as we do.
I think maybe an angel would trade its divine eternity
just to watch the sun breathe itself into the cold morning sky
and see, not a celestial maneuver,
but an emblem of hope and rebirth.
Just to
walk barefoot through soft grass
and feel liberated,
or to run their whole hands over the warm skin of a lover
and feel part of them.
Just to listen to Debussy
as he stacks the chord and pushes it out of the piano into the darkness and
lets it float there,
to feel the music's flight as if it was
your own life hanging in the air,
just for a heart that is not just a pump, but that
falters in your chest,
and stops,
and breaks. The angel and I can trade places.
I will live in Heaven
and look on the face of God;
I will sit at his feet and watch him exist;
I will be sure.
The angel can scramble across the face of the earth
like an ant,
hemmed in with worries about money
and marks
and what to make for dinner,
in a place so fogged with pollution
that the
very stars are obscured,
surrounded by puppet people
whose opinions are handed to them on a glossy page,
whose souls are shrunken and calcified,
who do not miss the stars,
who have never seen them.They say the angels fell for our beautiful women,
once they realized that they could warm their hands at their vivid hearts
and keep them to while away
the long exile, one life at a time,
with the bright music of their beautiful minds.
But to be transmuted from this deeply flawed
and
noisy world,
to reach a place where my soul could run free
and gaze on infinity itself,
and nothing more,
for that I would
sell all my sunrises,in all of their big, quiet glory.
- - -
I don't know if I can really sell all my sunrises.
I don't know if I can do that and it hurts me that I can't.
I don't know if I am ready to give up my shrunken and calcified soul.
I don't know if I am ready to run free.
What if I gaze on infinity and ... cower and shrink back?
No, I don't think I can sell my sunrises... and I am terrified of this.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
-
don't read too much into it. // 6:16 am
我們沒有在一起 - 劉若英
時間走了 誰還在等呢
這杯咖啡忘了加糖
真不是我那麼傷感
世界太複雜 你說單純很難 我當然都明白
可是呀只有你曾陪我在最初的地方
只有你才能了解我要的夢從來不大
我們沒有在一起至少還像情侶一樣
我痛的瘋的傷的在你面前哭得最慘
我知道你也不能帶我回到那個地方
你說你現在很好而且喜歡回憶很長
我們沒有在一起至少還像家人一樣
總是遠遠關心遠遠分享
....
What are you thinking about?
I quite like this song and it's stuck in my head.
Nothing much else, or is there?
Monday, March 29, 2010
-
happy birthday // 4:32 am
ET,
Happy birthday.
Thank you for everything.
Grow young!
Love,
Baby Cousin
Sunday, March 28, 2010
-
like eating lightning // 3:35 am
From
Soucouyant - a new book that is my current obsession.
During our lives, we struggle to forget. And it's foolish to assume that forgetting is altogether a bad thing. Memory is a bruise still tender. History is a rusted pile of blades and manacles. And forgetting can sometimes be the most creative and life-sustaining thing that we can ever hope to accomplish. The problem happens when we become too good at forgetting. When somehow we forget to forget, and we blunder into circumstances that we consciously should have avoided. This is how we awaken to the stories buried deep within our sleeping selves or trafficked quietly through the touch of others. This is how we're shaken by vague scents or tastes. How we're stolen by an obscure word, an undertow dragging us back and down and away.
David Chariandy has this way of arresting you with his words. You go into this moment of breathlessness... where you feel like all things have been stripped away, except for his words. You sigh after a passage like that... and you feel the words flowing through you like ripples, ripples.... ripples. And then he's got a huge obsession with lemons too - "... and, enigmatically, a whole lemon."
Memory is a stained carpet that nobody would confess to.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
-
nonsensical or whimsical // 10:25 pm
Anything unrelated to elephants is
irrelephant.
From the desk of my best friend:
A: MSN and Facebook are like your legs. How will you walk?
I suppose I'll just have to learn to crawl then.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
-
free yourself with moments of // 11:17 pm
The abating storm awaits its new thunders.
My eyes are swollen to the size of eggs.
I have no fight left in me. Only waiting.
Waiting.
The abating storm... gives rise to a new day, a new storm.
It's snowing outside. and it's supposed to be spring.
What is this, some grotesque joke?
-
// 12:04 pm
exit.
-
consolation // 9:49 am
....with every gummy bear, I feel an inch of cheer creeping back into my life.
-
I completely don't understand this song. // 5:03 am
I'm a little used to wandering outside the rain
You can leave me tomorrow if it suits you just the same
But I don't know enough, I need someone who leaves the day
- But I kind of like it.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
-
shadows // 9:46 pm
You disgust me.
I am half-sick of shadows.
Sybil Vane did not die in vain.
-- and you freed my soul from prison. You taught me what reality really is. To-night, for the first time in my life, I saw through the hollowness, the sham, the silliness of the empty pageant in which I had always played.
... the scenery was vulgar, and the words I had to speak were unreal, were not my words, were not what I wanted to say. You had brought me something higher, something of which all art is but a reflection.
I have grown sick of shadows.
What have I to do with the puppets of a play?
Suddenly it dawned on my soul what it all meant. The knowledge was exquisite to me. I heard them hissing, and I smiled.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
-
birthday beats // 11:08 am
I share a birthday with Dorian Gray. Isn't that weird?
(Too bad not the youth and beauty, etc.)
I really want a
kotatsu.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
-
so much love // 12:18 pm
I love my execs to death.
I love flowers.
I still can't decide on a name
for my new bunny -
Hemingway,
Eliot or
Jude?
-
conflicted // 10:45 am
After such knowledge, what forgiveness? - T.S. Eliot
I am thankful for you, for your patience with me, for your protection over me. I am thankful you never took me for granted even though I am so difficult.
(Walk away now.)
Monday, March 15, 2010
-
// 2:07 pm
... it rains, it rains, it rains
like it'll never stop.
wash it all away
wash it all away
Sunday, March 14, 2010
-
born to be Wilde // 11:49 pm
Presently, I have so much respect for Oscar Wilde, he's totally made it to my repertoire of favourites, despite his crazy immoral antics and his masterful way of explaining them all away, hah.
From A Picture of Dorian Grey:
"It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style. They affect us just as vulgarity affects us. They give us an impression of sheer brute force, and we revolt against that. Sometimes, however, a tragedy that possesses artistic elements of beauty crosses our lives. If these elements of beauty are real, the whole thing simply appeals to our sense of dramatic effect. Suddenly we find that we are no longer the actors, but the spectators of the play. Or rather we are both. We watch ourselves, and the mere wonder of the spectacle enthralls us..."
-
first time in a long time // 11:21 pm
I feel as though I can breathe-easy.
突然覺得好清醒...
...like a rock was lifted from my back; like I awoke from a long, terrible nightmare, of which I was the protagonist and you were simply the antagonist I could do away with. It was a nightmare in which, I got the villain and the hero mixed up and now, I can breathe again because it was too so chaotic in that world and I was blind. I was
so blind.
Order has been restored as much as it could be.
On a related note... the other day we were talking about the "Saturnalia" festival - the topsy turvy world of chaos, when the rich become poor, the old become young, etc. It's basically unreigned chaos tearing up life as we know it. Every night of the weekend here in the student village (formerly called "student ghetto") in this small university town, it feels like its very own Saturnalia. Students get inebriated like tomorrow will never come. It is loud, and the nights are sleepless. Sometimes I imagine myself as a part of them while I lie in bed with my eyes wide open, cursing my insomnia.
The fool is the King, isn't he.
-
// 8:33 am
You black-hole. Stop vacuuming me into void existence!
How do I live with myself like this?!
Friday, March 12, 2010
-
morpheme salad // 11:22 pm
I like my tea with one milk and one sugar, or black. Thanks.
"A morpheme is the smallest unit of meaning." -- catapulted me into this blissful hell of syntax tree magic and determiner phrase antics... not to mention the... deliciously devilish anaphors and antecedents.
I'm not being sarcastic. Just being tired.
Seconds before I roll up the rim, I always get butterflies in my stomach. Butterflies that even you, fail to give me.
Hah,
I win.
Moments of the mundane.
Ah, the tick-tap-ticks of the Stauffer typers.
Oh, and of course Stephen Chan gets arrested by the ICAC.
Who didn't see that coming?
-
there are storms we cannot weather // 3:55 am
忘不了他的溫暖...
忘不了他的傷害...
When dreams were made and wasted.there are dreams which cannot be...
...為得不到的吸引
Thursday, March 11, 2010
-
whilst studying for Middlemarch test // 7:41 am
"He distrusted her affection; and what loneliness is more lonely than distrust?"
-
growing out of moral stupidity // 3:36 am
According to Prof. Harland, according to George Eliot (
Middlemarch), this is how we grow out of moral stupidity
- get over yourself.
Ordinary tragedies,
everything happening,
simultaneously.
Take a deep breath
to clear your mind.
What would it be like to hear the grass growing?
It would be too overwhelming. We would shrivel.
I'm starting to think I'm being too hard on myself.
I want some hana - I think they'd liven up my room.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
-
// 4:57 am
Oh Stauffer days.
-
on Stevenson, on dreams // 3:14 am
Sequence dreamer Robert Stevenson (
Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,
Treasure Island) claims to be an ardent, uncomfortable dreamer.
"Dreams have no prejudice against the supernatural."
the waking,
the dreaming,
the duplicity of life.
Almost like nocturnal wanderings are... somewhat separate.
Surreal and thus, unvalidated to reality.
So, does that make you feel better, you night wanderer? You, night strayer? Does that make you feel better about what you've done, what you dreamed? Does it help your reality? Does it help you run away from what you've done? Fleeting, it will go away. The night wanderings... unreality, so just leave it behind. (What if, it wasn't a dream?)
Does it help to shed your night like a snake shedding its skin?
Yes. Yes, it does.
EPILOGUE
EPIK HIGH
wordkill
Monday, March 08, 2010
-
falling on my own sword // 10:21 am
We were talking about Siamese fighting fish on the way home today. Someone said one should experiment by putting a mirror/disco ball in front of it. Then, watch it tear itself up. It's actually so cruel.
But... why do I feel like that's exactly what I'm doing to myself then. I've compromised something so important to me. Now I feel like such a fool.
I feel so defeated. I feel like I fought with myself and lost.
I've posted on this song before, saying how this is not how I want to be. But, I feel like... this is exactly what I am at the moment. Everyone says every morning we start afresh carpe diem... who are you trying to convince that it's actually going to happen. You just keep telling yourself that.
Why do I see every day like ... it's just another day to add to that pond full of regrets.
This is why I always wonder
I'm a pond full of regrets
I always try to not remember rather than forget
This is why I always whisper
When vagabonds are passing by
I tend to keep myself away from their goodbyes
Tide will rise and fall along the bay
and I'm not going anywhere
I'm not going anywhere
People come and go and walk away
but I'm not going anywhere
I'm not going anywhere
I feel so stuck, can someone please pull me out?
Sunday, March 07, 2010
-
déjà vu // 12:21 am
Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!—One; two: why, then
'tis time to do't. — Hell is murky.
Look how she rubs her hands.
This is a sorry sight. — A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
-
not going anywhere // 3:02 pm
Tonight, after I shut my eyes and drift off... I wish not to be woken.
I wish that I will not open my eyes to this cruel reality.
I don't want to come back here anymore.
I wish I will remain in the state of reverie... for a long
long time.
I hope I won't be back.
I hope I'll eventually learn to
forget rather than just not remember.
Friday, March 05, 2010
-
there's no turning back // 4:05 am
"I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind." - Catherine Earnshaw (a character from Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights)
Thursday, March 04, 2010
-
heart-warming // 2:15 pm
new layout.
... I know it's a bit depressing.
But I do like it.
Someone once said to me... "your best posts are your sad posts". Hah.
I like this layout.
Ah, the lady doth protest too much?
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
-
charmed // 12:36 pm
I like how it doesn't pretend to be what it's not. I like how it's
FRESH!
Makes me feel like I entered into another...yet, very believable world.
It's so charming and full of unexpected delight. Every little turn, every word spoken... so careful and unpretentious. I am impressed.
By the way,
"Most of us love stories. Children are sometimes told not to tell 'stories' - by which adults mean lies. But when we grow up we go on telling stories, hoping they are metaphors which will show our lives as having significant pattens, some moral foundation, and even a purpose." - Smoke With Fires
A little quote that I came across.... patterns , hm?
