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shape without form, shade without colour
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do i dare?
Michaelangelo.
let us go and make our visit
time for you, time for me click above for a handful of dust
so how should I presume?
If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in! Come in!... for where the sidewalk ends. - Shel Silverstein
These fragments I have shored against my ruins. - T.S. Eliot
do i dare...disturb the universe?
ren-ka // alias. karrot,kawun
dob.11.10.
I live in a world where
lobster and corn can be very
good friends.
i have known the eyes already
songs: Strokes
tvb: dinner at 8
kvariety: nil
kdrama: ryeo
twdrama: love O2O
anime: nil
book: Moveable Feast Ernest Hemingway
website: moonbeard
website: stumble
headache: the boy
about the layout
Credits to magnette from blogskins.com, mods made by me.
Lots of it is inspired by T.S. Eliot's Hollow Men and Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.
talking of Michaelangelo.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
- autodefenestrate // 7:21 am
... is what I should probably do to avoid this exam tomorrow.
It's going to be another long night. What a gorgeous purple pink sky tonight.
Yesternight, or early early this morning my friends were raindrops, black tea and pie, tonight my friends are fried zucchinis, milk and salisbury steak. [enjambment]
- - -
Today, he wore a collared shirt of deep navy: crisp, wrinkle free. His usual dark jeans and his worn (though untattered) dark leather shoes. He had less of a smile, but his curiousity, his hands in his pockets, a slight whimsical tip toe, his enthusiasm, his love for children. Almost perfect enough to sweep her feet off the ground.
Oh, a slight infatuation with a hint of forbidden, secretive...
Of course nothing will happen. We are from different worlds, and different times. But he's still nice to look at, to smile at.
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
coffee spoons and afternoons
and voices dying with a dying fall
And so,
"Sometimes I feel as if my eyes can see inside of me."
- - - -
I dare you to read Stormy Night by Michèle Lemieux. It bleeds existential angst. See into me during those moments when insomnia plagues. Questions with empty answers, answered by more questions. My heart sank and lifted at many words on the beautifully illustrated pages.
"When I cry, it feels as if the tide's coming in!"
The mixing of colour and music, of shades and sounds. Once again, she is fascinated by that very word. Senses, thrown together in a magic bullet machine.
dona nobis pacem
The blending of angelic harmonies and voices out of tune yet somehow end up on pitch
and so together.
[Aside]
How can he remind me so much of the song "My Funny Valentine"?
He exudes warmth in his twinkling, whimsical smile; he saves them for the perfectly timed moments. His facial hair, his entire alert, breathing, moving tall body, his motions, his tiny gestures - hands in the pocket, nimble fingers held in that manner of a conductor, perfect stature and stance. His radiating enthusiasm, passion, love for music, for children. His quiet observation, his slightly awkward moments. you make me smile with my heart
I was moved today, by a 62 year old lady (Barbara Coloroso) who dedicated her life to teaching compassion and love.
Her talk, The Bully, The Bullied and the Bystander was remarkable! I learned wit, firmness, assertiveness and absolute zero tolerance for some disgusting behaviour.
Next time I hear garbage I should not have to stand for, I will say with dignity and a smile,
"That comment was beneath the both of us."
And another great moment:
Silence is one of your most powerful tools. Use it.
"The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience." - spoken by Atticus Finch, by Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird
I feel as though I'm halfway in many worlds, but never whole. There are too many wholes and I am always only half.
I hate being sick, that feeling in my nose and lungs. And then the wind, and cold and rain outside. It makes me miss home.
And as always, my mother knows me best: most of the time, all I really want to do is just curl up in bed with my favourite blankets and stuffed friends and a good book. And fall asleep reading it.
The cold, oh, the cold is so debilitating.
Here's to hoping the weekend will be better, with moments of respite.
I wish I were just a little bit different from everyone else. Just stand-out in a some minute way, so that people would know right away that smell, that act, that gesture, that turn of a cheek, that one distinguishable thing that belongs solely and only to me.
I wish I could be distinguishable and appreciate a myriad of unique things.
(I wish there was another word for "things" that I am feeling right now.)
free as the wind - that is the way you should be
I wish a lot of things. I am ever so blessed, but ever so greedy
and that is why, I know. I just know, that I don't deserve a lot of things.
"So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void." - From You've Got Mail
passing remark. stark, Hemingway's prose is, just the way I like it.
... choose your battles, 'cause if you fight every battle, you'll lose the war....
That's what we learn in teacher's college.
That and "Don't undermine your own teaching."
It's interesting, but dry. Material is dry.
There's more to do than I thought there would be.
My days are lethargic though. I eat, read, sleep, take in the aromas of next door's barbeques, avoid the rain, have long chats with friends in cafés and just relax. Even though school has started already, it feels like the winding down of summer into something new, but in a lazy slowly transitioning way. The loud, bustling life has not come back to Kingston yet. Soon, students will overflow the streets again. I prefer Kingston like this -- quiet and slow.
The breezes are strong here, and the nights dark. Still haven't had the chance to visit the lake but will hopefully do so very soon.
- - -
Wayfarer Books Bought & Sold
I roamed into an old bookstore with a painted wooden sign and it reminded me of those days in the UK where I would just saunter into these troves of goodness: old bookstores; I would find these old, abandoned but ever so precious treasures.
The smell of yellowed, dog-eared books is so comforting and thrilling at the same time to me. The place had a small exhibit hidden deep inside its shelves. It was run by a silver-haired beer bellied Santa Claus-esque man who was over-brimming with knowledge about publication and old books. Lazy evenings bring much enjoyment!
Every night, I am exhausted out of my mind by 8pm. My room, like my mind, is filled with clutter and things in boxes and bags that I am sick and tired of unloading.
And yet, of course, the show must go on.
These days are of free sandwiches and mother's leftover pork chops.
These days are of being watched, alienated and left for oneself to fend for oneself.
My friend Mee-Ju summed up Inception pretty well, I felt. So here they go:
"They come here to be woken up. Their dream has become their reality. Who are you to say otherwise?"
"Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?""Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"
Wonderful quotes.
Dreams feel real while we're in them. It's only when we wake up that we realize something was actually strange.
Obviously, I just saw Inception again. I love(d) it. I think I need to set a date for Inception. Perhaps, the day before school starts every year?
