I sat down to breakfast at Starbucks, deprived of coffee for the last few days because of the flu bug. Those who know me enough will remember my drink, but this time it was a decaf, and the devil chocolate cake is replaced with a nice Old Fashion Chocolate - a warm lava cake disguised as a doughnut.
The Starbucks at Yishun has also since changed it's unit, relocating from it's ideal second storey space facing the main road to a noisy corner right up the escalator. Sure it's 24 hours and the human traffic's heavy, but there's no replacing the ambiance brought by a second-storey balcony view yes?
And it all felt familiar - the way the coffee smells (mostly heavenly, but slightly trashy ever since I discovered Highlander Coffee Academy), the sound of the barista slamming the hammer down to empty the pressed beans, the nostalgic thump of my cup hitting the wooden table.
I guess it's like riding a bike. So many years and still I remember.
What a way to end the year.
The beauty of it all
You can't choose who you fall in love with.
It may be the simplest thing in the world to some, but the hardest goal for others; it is the most blessed situation for all, but also the biggest obstacle to happiness to many; it is always there, though never in your power.
So hold me, for what lies beyond is a little later on.
It may be the simplest thing in the world to some, but the hardest goal for others; it is the most blessed situation for all, but also the biggest obstacle to happiness to many; it is always there, though never in your power.
So hold me, for what lies beyond is a little later on.
Comedy of Now, in a rethoric of two day's work insanely structured as a potential to move beyond the ordinary.
Oh what I've give,
For a peaceful night's sleep -
With nothing on my mind!
Throughout the week
I'm reduced to a heap
Of [someone help me please]
But then I realized
As 2 am drew near,
That today is but Tuesday!
And tomorrow will come
As I've always feared,
With nothing to look forward to.
[This is getting nowhere.]
Have I lost the will,
Or the reason to rhyme?
Or am I just incomplete?
But then I am sure
I will make full recovery
Once I get some bloody good sleep.
Sigh.
For a peaceful night's sleep -
With nothing on my mind!
Throughout the week
I'm reduced to a heap
Of [someone help me please]
But then I realized
As 2 am drew near,
That today is but Tuesday!
And tomorrow will come
As I've always feared,
With nothing to look forward to.
[This is getting nowhere.]
Have I lost the will,
Or the reason to rhyme?
Or am I just incomplete?
But then I am sure
I will make full recovery
Once I get some bloody good sleep.
Sigh.
Now
For all that I could do right now (sleep, mostly), what I really crave for is a listening ear from a dear friend who once helped me through a tough time in my life.
He is away in Malaysia now, and I hope I get to see him before long.
I think I shall get him a nicer Christmas present this year. The boxes of Ferrero Rocher are getting a little predictable... five years in a row and counting.
He is away in Malaysia now, and I hope I get to see him before long.
I think I shall get him a nicer Christmas present this year. The boxes of Ferrero Rocher are getting a little predictable... five years in a row and counting.
Lovin' the new grill pan
Here's what I made tonight for dinner -
Grilled Red Snapper (about 150g each here)
Let's start with the marinate - 2 tablespoons of melted butter goes into a mixing bowl with one chopped shallot, a dash of EVOO, 2 crushed cloves of garlic, juice and zest from half a lemon, sprinkle of pepper and chopped thyme leaves, and a pinch of salt to taste.
Once that's done you mix it around and then add to the wash, de-boned and de-scaled fillets of snapper. Set aside for 45 minutes.
When it's time to cook, fire up the grill to medium heat and drop it in skin side first for about 5 minutes of until the lower half starts to cook. Turn and finish up till the meat flakes when pressured.
Paprika Prawns (I used about 9 big ones here)
I realized that it's all about the marinate when it comes to grilling. Not much to do except watch it cook, so the marinate is key. Here's the one for the couple of tiger prawns I got. Be sure to devein the prawns and cut a nice slit along their spine to make the marinate sink in more.
You'll want a medium-sized shallot diced up along with a moderate amount of chopped garlic (about 2-3 cloves). Toss in about 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil and about 1 tablespoon of paprika. Mix in the juice of about half a lemon and last but not least chop up two chili padis and toss them in with the prawns. Mix.
Fire up the grill to medium heat and toss in till both sides are cooked with that nice charred look that we all love.
Garlic and Herb Potatoes
This is easy. And everyone loves potatoes. I used about 2 Russets for this one. Clean and scrub them potatoes and put them through the boiling salted water treatment for about 15 minutes or till they go soft (we need them cooked for the grill). Cool and wedge them.
Crush up 5 cloves of garlic and put them through a dry pan to roast them. About 10 minutes in medium heat will do. Extract and chop them up very finely. Commit this to about 3 tablespoons of olive oil and mix it with the potatoes.
Once the potatoes are nice and oily, put them into the grill and let em char on one side before turning over to reveal the nice burnt lines down the sides. Remove from grill when satisfied and toss in a pinch of parsley to serve.
Peppered Grilled Asparagus
These guys are really nice when you put them to the grill. Cut off the muddy bits and give them a nice wash before you throw them into a tub of icy water. Wait 30 minutes and then put them diagonally to the grill so they won't fall through and give you that nice charring down the sides.
When they go soft, that's what you remove em. Toss with ground pepper and salt to taste.
Grilled Red Snapper (about 150g each here)
Let's start with the marinate - 2 tablespoons of melted butter goes into a mixing bowl with one chopped shallot, a dash of EVOO, 2 crushed cloves of garlic, juice and zest from half a lemon, sprinkle of pepper and chopped thyme leaves, and a pinch of salt to taste.
Once that's done you mix it around and then add to the wash, de-boned and de-scaled fillets of snapper. Set aside for 45 minutes.
When it's time to cook, fire up the grill to medium heat and drop it in skin side first for about 5 minutes of until the lower half starts to cook. Turn and finish up till the meat flakes when pressured.
Paprika Prawns (I used about 9 big ones here)
I realized that it's all about the marinate when it comes to grilling. Not much to do except watch it cook, so the marinate is key. Here's the one for the couple of tiger prawns I got. Be sure to devein the prawns and cut a nice slit along their spine to make the marinate sink in more.
You'll want a medium-sized shallot diced up along with a moderate amount of chopped garlic (about 2-3 cloves). Toss in about 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil and about 1 tablespoon of paprika. Mix in the juice of about half a lemon and last but not least chop up two chili padis and toss them in with the prawns. Mix.
Fire up the grill to medium heat and toss in till both sides are cooked with that nice charred look that we all love.
Garlic and Herb Potatoes
This is easy. And everyone loves potatoes. I used about 2 Russets for this one. Clean and scrub them potatoes and put them through the boiling salted water treatment for about 15 minutes or till they go soft (we need them cooked for the grill). Cool and wedge them.
Crush up 5 cloves of garlic and put them through a dry pan to roast them. About 10 minutes in medium heat will do. Extract and chop them up very finely. Commit this to about 3 tablespoons of olive oil and mix it with the potatoes.
Once the potatoes are nice and oily, put them into the grill and let em char on one side before turning over to reveal the nice burnt lines down the sides. Remove from grill when satisfied and toss in a pinch of parsley to serve.
Peppered Grilled Asparagus
These guys are really nice when you put them to the grill. Cut off the muddy bits and give them a nice wash before you throw them into a tub of icy water. Wait 30 minutes and then put them diagonally to the grill so they won't fall through and give you that nice charring down the sides.
When they go soft, that's what you remove em. Toss with ground pepper and salt to taste.
Awake
The ride home today was long, and as I drift in and out of slumber, the fleeting moments that I was awake reminded me of a night long ago.
I was seated right behind the driver as well, and on the same bus service. The day had been long and the nights torturously slow thus far.
The streets have changed, but the sentiments are all too familiar. As the thoughts flow refreshed through my head I recall what I have been told.
I am yesterday's better, and I intend to make use of that strength. .
I was seated right behind the driver as well, and on the same bus service. The day had been long and the nights torturously slow thus far.
The streets have changed, but the sentiments are all too familiar. As the thoughts flow refreshed through my head I recall what I have been told.
I am yesterday's better, and I intend to make use of that strength. .
Grillin'
And it begins, my crusade to char everything charrable. The selection was quick, like a lion spotting the choice meat - so many and yet instinctively my sights settled in the one grill pan most suited for my kitchen.
It was heavy, die cast induction base to make sure the heat got around perfectly. The characteristic red dot, though over-marketed, gave me the trust that it will serve me as well as the sauteing pan I have back home.
Countless pastas, and now I can grill.
It was heavy, die cast induction base to make sure the heat got around perfectly. The characteristic red dot, though over-marketed, gave me the trust that it will serve me as well as the sauteing pan I have back home.
Countless pastas, and now I can grill.
I can't hear, but seeing's sure as hell good enough for me
I'm not your typical guy, not cool and fun enough for most girls, nor brilliant and successful in the career, nor outspoken and charismatic.
I like sitting around at home, making my way to the kitchen, dancing, taking long bus rides, video games, reading what only I can define as "good" articles, I don't mind working on weekends (and in retrospect NOT working during office hours), and I sure as hell can be a loser when it comes to picking up a conversation to save my life, but I've also been known to not being able to shut up if someone gets me started. I'm grumpy and moody easily, but I've also had impressive displays of moral tolerance (but never for laziness).
So many things, yet one word sums it up - me.
And I digress. This was supposed to be about how I enjoy taking the bus in the downpour, but I guess it's what I do I guess.
I like sitting around at home, making my way to the kitchen, dancing, taking long bus rides, video games, reading what only I can define as "good" articles, I don't mind working on weekends (and in retrospect NOT working during office hours), and I sure as hell can be a loser when it comes to picking up a conversation to save my life, but I've also been known to not being able to shut up if someone gets me started. I'm grumpy and moody easily, but I've also had impressive displays of moral tolerance (but never for laziness).
So many things, yet one word sums it up - me.
And I digress. This was supposed to be about how I enjoy taking the bus in the downpour, but I guess it's what I do I guess.
500
That's the number of BBQ recipes sitting in front of me right now, courtesy of Page One publications.
It's amazing how far a few good pictures and an interesting subject can get you...
I wonder how much of these recipes I will actually get to making, as a friend of mine recently pointed out - I've not been cooking for the longest time, and also that I never got to making anything from the numerous cook books that I actually bought.
Has anyone ever seen the movie Julie & Julia? The protagonist sets out on a quest to re-discover life by cooking every recipe in Julia Child's French Cooking book.
Maybe it's time to do something like that, not for the lack of creativity, but to get the ol' greasy, garlic-smelling fingers back.
Any takers?
It's amazing how far a few good pictures and an interesting subject can get you...
I wonder how much of these recipes I will actually get to making, as a friend of mine recently pointed out - I've not been cooking for the longest time, and also that I never got to making anything from the numerous cook books that I actually bought.
Has anyone ever seen the movie Julie & Julia? The protagonist sets out on a quest to re-discover life by cooking every recipe in Julia Child's French Cooking book.
Maybe it's time to do something like that, not for the lack of creativity, but to get the ol' greasy, garlic-smelling fingers back.
Any takers?
Now
The room smells faintly of strawberry shortcake, the aroma lingering in the air-conditioned space.
The night light warms the room slightly and bossa nova music plays softly as I lay sprawled on my large cozy bed to an open copy of Esquire magazine.
"The Best Restaurants of 2010" - oh how much are we all missing out!
The night light warms the room slightly and bossa nova music plays softly as I lay sprawled on my large cozy bed to an open copy of Esquire magazine.
"The Best Restaurants of 2010" - oh how much are we all missing out!
Faded yellow light
The night grows, spreading its influence over the harshed landscape. From the window I look out briefly, my gaze over the wide plains before me.
To my left the lamp let off the faint yellow glow - my companion for this worrisome night. Its warmth offers what little comfort it can muster, and I closed my eyes and steadied my thoughts, feeling my breath swirl in the winter cold.
The old radio let out a familiar tune and joins the lamp as my security blanket for this episode.
Too many reasons, yet none of them substantial; so many dreams, marred by the empty promises of sleepless nights.
But to ignite a frozen wink, and tell the world, "what now?"
To my left the lamp let off the faint yellow glow - my companion for this worrisome night. Its warmth offers what little comfort it can muster, and I closed my eyes and steadied my thoughts, feeling my breath swirl in the winter cold.
The old radio let out a familiar tune and joins the lamp as my security blanket for this episode.
Too many reasons, yet none of them substantial; so many dreams, marred by the empty promises of sleepless nights.
But to ignite a frozen wink, and tell the world, "what now?"
Riposte
Waking moon,
Take the tides
And draw them close;
But remember;
Imprints on the sand remain
Long after you're gone.
Take the tides
And draw them close;
But remember;
Imprints on the sand remain
Long after you're gone.
One to calm the nerves
The rain falls
Like snowflakes, light
And carried by the
Swirling breeze.
Daintily they dance
Onto my face as I walked
Away from the angry
Clouds above.
Better you run,
Snowflake rain, chased
Down by the cloud's
Sturdier men.
The soldiers win,
Pinning down the dancers, as
Their blood spills, graying
The pavement.
And keeping dry,
A tabby lies, ignoring
The violence of the rain,
Slumbering sweet.
Like snowflakes, light
And carried by the
Swirling breeze.
Daintily they dance
Onto my face as I walked
Away from the angry
Clouds above.
Better you run,
Snowflake rain, chased
Down by the cloud's
Sturdier men.
The soldiers win,
Pinning down the dancers, as
Their blood spills, graying
The pavement.
And keeping dry,
A tabby lies, ignoring
The violence of the rain,
Slumbering sweet.
So close, and then goodbye forever
I had an idea for an entry as I lay in bed yesterday night. It was about a guy talking to another guy about the passing breeze. There could be a philosophical undertone but I don't remember now.
What I do remember is telling myself to get up and write the idea down, so that it forms as a nice story I could read when I wanted more ideas. But I got lazy and stayed in bed, telling myself that it should still be in my head when I wake because it's a great idea, and that I would get to writing it when I was awake.
I can't imagine how many times I've told myself that, and the many times I never got to writing anything down.
And so it dies - the idea, and the inspiration that might have followed.
But perhaps ideas never die, or at least their influence. They fade into the darkness of your consciousness, only to rise when your mind ripens. This piece of work I'm typing out now clearly stems from the lingering wisps of the story from last night.
So I guess it's like energy - displaced but never lost. From the inaction of last night comes the volatility of the moment, fingers frantically trying to catch up with my mind, the words disappearing faster than they can manifest, red spell-checking worms crawling across the page.
And so it is true for all things thought lost and nonreturnable. You may not know it, but my advice is to never stop searching, for when the mind is willing, the end is never far.
But take caution, dear traveler, for all who waits may not be rewarded their just desserts.
What I do remember is telling myself to get up and write the idea down, so that it forms as a nice story I could read when I wanted more ideas. But I got lazy and stayed in bed, telling myself that it should still be in my head when I wake because it's a great idea, and that I would get to writing it when I was awake.
I can't imagine how many times I've told myself that, and the many times I never got to writing anything down.
And so it dies - the idea, and the inspiration that might have followed.
But perhaps ideas never die, or at least their influence. They fade into the darkness of your consciousness, only to rise when your mind ripens. This piece of work I'm typing out now clearly stems from the lingering wisps of the story from last night.
So I guess it's like energy - displaced but never lost. From the inaction of last night comes the volatility of the moment, fingers frantically trying to catch up with my mind, the words disappearing faster than they can manifest, red spell-checking worms crawling across the page.
And so it is true for all things thought lost and nonreturnable. You may not know it, but my advice is to never stop searching, for when the mind is willing, the end is never far.
But take caution, dear traveler, for all who waits may not be rewarded their just desserts.
For the people
I remember the days. It was like they never left, residing in my heart with every beat.
The winds blew strong and resolute as they do now, rustling the treetops and chilling the night air. I looked out the window from the kitchen and down onto the empty street below hoping to see him.
But days passed and months followed, and despite knowing the answer all along I continued to look down, the wind my company and the empty streets below our midnight movie.
Young boys, now living the dreams of men, weighed under the expectations places upon our shoulders by the very people we swore to protect.
We were too young to have known what was in store. The world was ready for our vigor, but we were ill-trained and hardly humble.
That day we went our separate ways, each taken down the road by our differing absolution. We would never see each other again, not for the next thirty-four years.
When you first called me I couldn't believe it was you. I can still remember the ambitions we shared and the plans we made. Never would we have imagined this to happen.
We're two sides of a coin - no way similar but stuck to sharing the same fate. We will toss each other into the air, hoping the fall will one day knock the other side of the coin clean off.
All the tension, all the bloodshed, all the needless negotiations. We got a little over ourselves, and it's about time to call it quits.
The wind blew harsh and cold as I waited for your arrival down the walkway. It's been so long, but I know our meeting will be a short-lived.
Peace is made up by people like us so that we won't feel as guilty as we should be.
But we are, and it all boils down to whether the blood of our people are worth more than the money you keep for yourself.
The winds blew strong and resolute as they do now, rustling the treetops and chilling the night air. I looked out the window from the kitchen and down onto the empty street below hoping to see him.
But days passed and months followed, and despite knowing the answer all along I continued to look down, the wind my company and the empty streets below our midnight movie.
Young boys, now living the dreams of men, weighed under the expectations places upon our shoulders by the very people we swore to protect.
We were too young to have known what was in store. The world was ready for our vigor, but we were ill-trained and hardly humble.
That day we went our separate ways, each taken down the road by our differing absolution. We would never see each other again, not for the next thirty-four years.
When you first called me I couldn't believe it was you. I can still remember the ambitions we shared and the plans we made. Never would we have imagined this to happen.
We're two sides of a coin - no way similar but stuck to sharing the same fate. We will toss each other into the air, hoping the fall will one day knock the other side of the coin clean off.
All the tension, all the bloodshed, all the needless negotiations. We got a little over ourselves, and it's about time to call it quits.
The wind blew harsh and cold as I waited for your arrival down the walkway. It's been so long, but I know our meeting will be a short-lived.
Peace is made up by people like us so that we won't feel as guilty as we should be.
But we are, and it all boils down to whether the blood of our people are worth more than the money you keep for yourself.
Wishing
Sometimes, don't you just wish people would say it like it is instead of making you guess or put you through some test?
I do.
I do.
Ripples
So I drop, and with my descent
Comes waves and waves of mis-intent
Honored by the shaken few
As ill-misfortune that I slew.
Taken back and rather stirred
Their sickened tongue towards me slurred
Unkind words that made no sense
To one they'd hope would make amends?
And here I am, resultant still
Feeling waves that make me chill
For all the bad things I have done
When all I did was pack and run.
Comes waves and waves of mis-intent
Honored by the shaken few
As ill-misfortune that I slew.
Taken back and rather stirred
Their sickened tongue towards me slurred
Unkind words that made no sense
To one they'd hope would make amends?
And here I am, resultant still
Feeling waves that make me chill
For all the bad things I have done
When all I did was pack and run.
When no means no
And Alice stepped through the looking glass once again, full expecting to reunite with her friends in Wonderland.
The first step was easy, and she dived headfirst into the nostalgic tunnels. Down and down and down she went, plummeting through the familiar darkness.
"Soon," she counted, and sure enough she landed with a thump in the upside-down room. Thump again, she was on her feet as she fixed herself back upright.
The table stood in the middle of the room, and the doors all around. She smiled, and got to drinking the magic potion.
She winced. The water never tasted nice, and she remembers how she only shrunk to half the normal amount because she spat some out one time.
Soon she felt the familiar tingling down her spine as the potion took effect. Her head felt heavier as she look down and saw her feet come closer and closer.
"Wonderland, here I come!" the little girl exclaimed.
But this time Alice did not grow smaller. As she fell limp to the ground, she let go of the key she'd use to unlock the door. With her last breath, she heard the metallic ringing of the fallen key echo in her head.
And with each ring she would see a picture of her time beyond the looking glass - pure, ageless, with naught a sense of pretense.
Wonderland. Through the looking glass, down the winding tunnels, and out the impossible door.
The first step was easy, and she dived headfirst into the nostalgic tunnels. Down and down and down she went, plummeting through the familiar darkness.
"Soon," she counted, and sure enough she landed with a thump in the upside-down room. Thump again, she was on her feet as she fixed herself back upright.
The table stood in the middle of the room, and the doors all around. She smiled, and got to drinking the magic potion.
She winced. The water never tasted nice, and she remembers how she only shrunk to half the normal amount because she spat some out one time.
Soon she felt the familiar tingling down her spine as the potion took effect. Her head felt heavier as she look down and saw her feet come closer and closer.
"Wonderland, here I come!" the little girl exclaimed.
But this time Alice did not grow smaller. As she fell limp to the ground, she let go of the key she'd use to unlock the door. With her last breath, she heard the metallic ringing of the fallen key echo in her head.
And with each ring she would see a picture of her time beyond the looking glass - pure, ageless, with naught a sense of pretense.
Wonderland. Through the looking glass, down the winding tunnels, and out the impossible door.
Plentiful
This is a story from a book I never thought I'd read:
A man and his girlfriend was walking along the road, when they heard a sound in the distance from the bushes.
"Quack Quack!"
The girl looked towards the sound and said, "It's a chicken."
The man, caught surprised, replied, "It's a duck, honey."
"No, it's a chicken," his girlfriend insisted.
"Quack Quack!"
"Listen! That's a duck! Chickens go cluck cluck!" explained the man.
"But it's a chicken," said the girl once more, her brows frowning this time.
This made the man lose his temper, and he stopped walking, let go of her hand, turned around and looked her in the eye.
"That is obviously a duck! D-U-C-K!" he raised his voice.
To which the girl cried, and the man finally knew that he was wrong.
A man and his girlfriend was walking along the road, when they heard a sound in the distance from the bushes.
"Quack Quack!"
The girl looked towards the sound and said, "It's a chicken."
The man, caught surprised, replied, "It's a duck, honey."
"No, it's a chicken," his girlfriend insisted.
"Quack Quack!"
"Listen! That's a duck! Chickens go cluck cluck!" explained the man.
"But it's a chicken," said the girl once more, her brows frowning this time.
This made the man lose his temper, and he stopped walking, let go of her hand, turned around and looked her in the eye.
"That is obviously a duck! D-U-C-K!" he raised his voice.
To which the girl cried, and the man finally knew that he was wrong.
Of being pointless
I played badminton with my bro's kid today. It was thrown around as an idea last week and I really didn't think he'd be up to it.
But he was and we had a nice morning teaching him proper strokes and how to breathe.
I told him that if he didn't breathe properly during the game he could die of cardiac arrest, and then got him to take three deep breaths in and out before he could play on.
That, and to drink his water in tiny sips.
I had a lunch appointment next, and we got into a cab so I could drop him off to Bishan. I told him to sit up straight and to put down his mobile phone when I'm talking to him.
"I'm playing soccer," he told me, to which I said that I don't care.
This kid is special because my bro says he is, and since I tend not to argue with him coz he's downright stubborn, I try my best to nurture him when I can.
That can sometimes involve using the whole "dangling a carrot" routine.
So if he manages to pass his final exams with 2 A's and no fails, I'll buy him a psp.
But of late he's been telling me that he sucks at this and sucks at that.
So I'm giving him remedial lessons every week now.
I hope he doesn't mess up my house.
So lunch came and it was Thai food with an old colleague. I've actually recommended this Thai restaurant to someone a week back but since it's quite a way where she live I guess it'll be awhile before I can sit her down here.
Back to the story, my friend got a new house near his workplace. His kid's going to school down the road, and he's starting to pool resources into currency trading.
He also gave me some good advice I intend to try out soon.
Halfway through the meal he got a call from his son.
"Did you have lunch?"
"No??!"
"Oh you had fish!"
"That means you had lunch then!"
I may not look like it, but I like kids. This day's interaction made me wonder what mine will be like, and how I'm going to treat them.
So lunch ended I took a bus home, and then my heart started to miss.
But enough questions. I have a bollywood movie to watch at home, and secondary school math to relearn.
But he was and we had a nice morning teaching him proper strokes and how to breathe.
I told him that if he didn't breathe properly during the game he could die of cardiac arrest, and then got him to take three deep breaths in and out before he could play on.
That, and to drink his water in tiny sips.
I had a lunch appointment next, and we got into a cab so I could drop him off to Bishan. I told him to sit up straight and to put down his mobile phone when I'm talking to him.
"I'm playing soccer," he told me, to which I said that I don't care.
This kid is special because my bro says he is, and since I tend not to argue with him coz he's downright stubborn, I try my best to nurture him when I can.
That can sometimes involve using the whole "dangling a carrot" routine.
So if he manages to pass his final exams with 2 A's and no fails, I'll buy him a psp.
But of late he's been telling me that he sucks at this and sucks at that.
So I'm giving him remedial lessons every week now.
I hope he doesn't mess up my house.
So lunch came and it was Thai food with an old colleague. I've actually recommended this Thai restaurant to someone a week back but since it's quite a way where she live I guess it'll be awhile before I can sit her down here.
Back to the story, my friend got a new house near his workplace. His kid's going to school down the road, and he's starting to pool resources into currency trading.
He also gave me some good advice I intend to try out soon.
Halfway through the meal he got a call from his son.
"Did you have lunch?"
"No??!"
"Oh you had fish!"
"That means you had lunch then!"
I may not look like it, but I like kids. This day's interaction made me wonder what mine will be like, and how I'm going to treat them.
So lunch ended I took a bus home, and then my heart started to miss.
But enough questions. I have a bollywood movie to watch at home, and secondary school math to relearn.
Right now
Two breaths in, and one out -
Like a bat, gracefully blind
And dancing in the night.
Darting left and right, my gaze
Losing focus, capturing hopelessly
The pictures from all dimensions.
Curled are my lips, fixated
On reaching the stars,
To join my bewildered heart.
Like a bat, gracefully blind
And dancing in the night.
Darting left and right, my gaze
Losing focus, capturing hopelessly
The pictures from all dimensions.
Curled are my lips, fixated
On reaching the stars,
To join my bewildered heart.
He lives in phases
Endless is the wait as you step near the edge.
There you stand, in-between and nowhere. The world pauses while moving quickly; the noises clear while your own voice rings loud; the air stills while the ambience tingles.
And as you close your eyes, you start to see, moving beyond the blur of standing still but yet not going anywhere.
There you stand.
There you stand, in-between and nowhere. The world pauses while moving quickly; the noises clear while your own voice rings loud; the air stills while the ambience tingles.
And as you close your eyes, you start to see, moving beyond the blur of standing still but yet not going anywhere.
There you stand.
Whispers
Some things just make your heart skip a beat, and after that intense moment, it plays catch-up by pounding your chest out.
Reminders
There are things in your life that you won't forget - the first time you found a wallet; that smack on your face delivered by your teacher for talking in class; the time you cut off your long hair.
They are fresh in our minds, no matter how busy we are or how much we think we've changed. From the time they happen, they replay in our minds - resonating ever so often until they etch a permanent place in our memories.
They may be good things, they may be bad, but what I know is that they are mine. More unwilling than selective, but these memories are mine to keep.
And I write them, that you would see this and remember what I hold treasured. It's not amazing that I remember, for the wonder lies in the person and things that give them meaning to me.
And ever so often, I think about them. And ever so true, they still stop my heart.
So breathe in, and take in the wonder.
They are fresh in our minds, no matter how busy we are or how much we think we've changed. From the time they happen, they replay in our minds - resonating ever so often until they etch a permanent place in our memories.
They may be good things, they may be bad, but what I know is that they are mine. More unwilling than selective, but these memories are mine to keep.
And I write them, that you would see this and remember what I hold treasured. It's not amazing that I remember, for the wonder lies in the person and things that give them meaning to me.
And ever so often, I think about them. And ever so true, they still stop my heart.
So breathe in, and take in the wonder.
One Dream.
Happiness is a fleeting thing, like dragonflies darting in and out of your view. They dance among the tall grass, glimmers of change in an otherwise static familiar.
But they let you catch sight of them, and you’re caught by the splendor. A burst of color snares your gaze, and disappears instantly into the swaying green.
But the warmth stays, a ripple of happiness through your field of emotions, and you end up looking for more dragonflies.
There I was, seated beside you, in a white room with a white table between us, blank white faces all around. There was color in the room, and it came from your smiling face, across the unappealing table.
I can’t figure out how we got there, but there we were. I said nothing, like always, and you were starting to get bored, like always.
“Let’s go,” you said, and all the words in my mind dissipated, waiting for our next date a few months down to manifest and simmer.
There were a line of houses, and it was a cool evening where we walked down the streets towards home. You looked upwards, craving release from the many things chained to you free spirit.
“Can I hold your hand?” I finally asked.
“Why”?
I paused as the words slipped from my mouth, and back into the recess of conversation I had meant to share.
So you sigh, like always, and take my hand in yours. I could feel your boney fingers locked in mine, moist and nervous. But I held your hand, and it felt nice. Finally.
But before the night was over, I would feel your lips - soft and gentle as I woke from sleep. I did not want to fall back into slumber, no. I sat there, a warm glow in my chest, remembering how I caught just one glimpse.
There they were, the dragonflies,
Blazing through the twilight skies.
If you follow, once or twice,
They will let them in your sights.
How they shimmer, how they tease,
As they leave you in your sleep,
Wishing more, yet no clue how,
Forgetting time, wanting now.
And as you lay there in your bed
Hoping they were real instead.
Making notes and writing words,
For when it comes, you’ll want them heard.
But they let you catch sight of them, and you’re caught by the splendor. A burst of color snares your gaze, and disappears instantly into the swaying green.
But the warmth stays, a ripple of happiness through your field of emotions, and you end up looking for more dragonflies.
There I was, seated beside you, in a white room with a white table between us, blank white faces all around. There was color in the room, and it came from your smiling face, across the unappealing table.
I can’t figure out how we got there, but there we were. I said nothing, like always, and you were starting to get bored, like always.
“Let’s go,” you said, and all the words in my mind dissipated, waiting for our next date a few months down to manifest and simmer.
There were a line of houses, and it was a cool evening where we walked down the streets towards home. You looked upwards, craving release from the many things chained to you free spirit.
“Can I hold your hand?” I finally asked.
“Why”?
I paused as the words slipped from my mouth, and back into the recess of conversation I had meant to share.
So you sigh, like always, and take my hand in yours. I could feel your boney fingers locked in mine, moist and nervous. But I held your hand, and it felt nice. Finally.
But before the night was over, I would feel your lips - soft and gentle as I woke from sleep. I did not want to fall back into slumber, no. I sat there, a warm glow in my chest, remembering how I caught just one glimpse.
There they were, the dragonflies,
Blazing through the twilight skies.
If you follow, once or twice,
They will let them in your sights.
How they shimmer, how they tease,
As they leave you in your sleep,
Wishing more, yet no clue how,
Forgetting time, wanting now.
And as you lay there in your bed
Hoping they were real instead.
Making notes and writing words,
For when it comes, you’ll want them heard.
The Pig and the Lion
Sam was a pig, the same kind you'd associate pigs with - pink and fat and lazy and rude and noisy and dirty. Whatever he lacked on the outside, he'd make sure there's less of it inside of him as well. As far as pigs go, Sam's the creme de la creme.
Sam's owners were so proud of their fine specimen of a fat, lazy, rude, noisy and dirty pig. They loved him so much they kept feeding him and feeding him and stuffing him silly. For you see, the more fat and lazy and rude and noisy and dirty he got, the easier it is for them to kill him.
But like all living things, Sam was not aware of his fate. In fact, he thought that his owners were feeding him so much because they loved him! He thought, "Hey, that fat man and his fat wife must love me so much because they feed me and tell me to get fatter!"
But the day came when the owners have need for Sam's pork. They took him to his pen, right up to the spot where they always feed him at. The happy pig followed, ready to be pampered once more.
As the enormous animal lowered his fat pampered head into the food bucket, he noticed a shiny metal object behind his owner's back. Thinking it was a silver bucket full of food, he continued to stuff his ignorant face.
The old farmer raised the axe and brought it down as hard as he could, but he missed because of his eye sight (for old people often miss the heads of animals they attempt to slaughter). This sent Sam sprawling across the farm, his food bucket in toll.
And so Sam escaped certain death.
Running with a bucket full of food is no mean feat, and it soon tired out the giant animal. Sam took to resting so that he can finish his food better. When there was no more food in the bucket, with even the smell of food gone, Sam got up and started to find a watering hole.
Alas, the obese farm animal's luck seemed to have run dry! At the watering hole is a fearsome lion, the King of the Beasts! The magnificent creature sat still as the lumbering calamity of a livestock approached the water.
Seeing how much bigger he is than the lion, he proceeded towards the water. (You see, Sam had not seen a lion before, much less know what they are capable of!)
Alex (that's the lion's name) looked on in curiosity, but when the pig got too close to his water he hissed.
Sam, appalled by the smaller animal's act of defiance, snorted rudely, "I want the water, small furry creature! Move aside and be on your way. There will be none left for you when I'm done!"
Alex raised his eyebrow (if lions had any) at the audacity of the fatso, but did not speak up.
The pig pushed his blubbery frame into the lion's face, but got shoved back by Alex's front paws. Enraged and used to getting his way, Sam squealed at the animal lying before him, "Look buddy, I'm doing you a favor now. Get the hell out or I'm going to bite you!"
He bared his herbivore teeth at Alex, chomping at the air to make his point.
Alex shrugged his shoulder and got up. The arrogant Sam proceeded to trot past the relented lion, giving him a small shove at the end of it.
As the enormous animal lowered his fat pampered head into the watering hole, he noticed a shiny object behind him. This time, he had no time to react, nor did the lion miss his mark.
And so Sam got what he deserved.
Sam's owners were so proud of their fine specimen of a fat, lazy, rude, noisy and dirty pig. They loved him so much they kept feeding him and feeding him and stuffing him silly. For you see, the more fat and lazy and rude and noisy and dirty he got, the easier it is for them to kill him.
But like all living things, Sam was not aware of his fate. In fact, he thought that his owners were feeding him so much because they loved him! He thought, "Hey, that fat man and his fat wife must love me so much because they feed me and tell me to get fatter!"
But the day came when the owners have need for Sam's pork. They took him to his pen, right up to the spot where they always feed him at. The happy pig followed, ready to be pampered once more.
As the enormous animal lowered his fat pampered head into the food bucket, he noticed a shiny metal object behind his owner's back. Thinking it was a silver bucket full of food, he continued to stuff his ignorant face.
The old farmer raised the axe and brought it down as hard as he could, but he missed because of his eye sight (for old people often miss the heads of animals they attempt to slaughter). This sent Sam sprawling across the farm, his food bucket in toll.
And so Sam escaped certain death.
Running with a bucket full of food is no mean feat, and it soon tired out the giant animal. Sam took to resting so that he can finish his food better. When there was no more food in the bucket, with even the smell of food gone, Sam got up and started to find a watering hole.
Alas, the obese farm animal's luck seemed to have run dry! At the watering hole is a fearsome lion, the King of the Beasts! The magnificent creature sat still as the lumbering calamity of a livestock approached the water.
Seeing how much bigger he is than the lion, he proceeded towards the water. (You see, Sam had not seen a lion before, much less know what they are capable of!)
Alex (that's the lion's name) looked on in curiosity, but when the pig got too close to his water he hissed.
Sam, appalled by the smaller animal's act of defiance, snorted rudely, "I want the water, small furry creature! Move aside and be on your way. There will be none left for you when I'm done!"
Alex raised his eyebrow (if lions had any) at the audacity of the fatso, but did not speak up.
The pig pushed his blubbery frame into the lion's face, but got shoved back by Alex's front paws. Enraged and used to getting his way, Sam squealed at the animal lying before him, "Look buddy, I'm doing you a favor now. Get the hell out or I'm going to bite you!"
He bared his herbivore teeth at Alex, chomping at the air to make his point.
Alex shrugged his shoulder and got up. The arrogant Sam proceeded to trot past the relented lion, giving him a small shove at the end of it.
As the enormous animal lowered his fat pampered head into the watering hole, he noticed a shiny object behind him. This time, he had no time to react, nor did the lion miss his mark.
And so Sam got what he deserved.
Iron Man 2 - A Review
As all movie reviews go - I do not apologize if you read this and then tell me that I spoil it for you.
Tony Stark is a narcissist, and the scriptwriter (forgive me for not googling your name) did a good job of using an insurmountable number of “I“s in the show.
Right off the bat, as the heavy suit falls from a C-130 in to a roaring crowd at the Start Expo, Anthony Stark - played to perfection by self-absorbent flavor of the month Robert Downey Junior (check out his article n the December ‘09 Esquire) - let loose a barrage of bigotry worthy of the bringer of world peace.
Heck, I even caught the eyeball roll when he had to share the limelight with a video footage of his old man Howard. That was before he did a test check on the toxicity of his blood. The audience is introduced to Iron Man’s first dilemma - he is dying.
Then comes problem number two - because all superheroes need to lead a complicated life - Pepper Potts.
Ex-Secretary and now CEO of Stark Industries, love interest Gwyneth Paltrow not only has to continually look good, but also has to handle sharing HER limelight with vavavoom Scarlett Johansson. That, and she’s kept in the dark about Tony’s health issue while having to run the company which now apparently functions as Iron Man’s PR consultancy firm.
Every superhero movie needs a villain. Every AMERICAN superhero movie needs a villain with a weird accent. Iron Man has Ivan Vanko, played by Mongolian-looking-Russian-Accented -American actor Mickey Rourke.
He tears things apart in the movie.
And now we get to the main point of an action movie. Big explosions and lights and fireworks so real you get warm and sweaty watching it.
Golden Village at Yishun offers an experience like no other in cinematic-reality. While other theaters boast high-tech 3D projectors that bring the action to you, GOLDEN VILLAGE YISHUN 10 is the only cinematic wonder that takes you into the heat of the explosions and high-flying stunts YOU PAID TO ENJOY!
They do that by turning off the air conditioning.
Iron Man never felt more real. When Tony Stark made his escape from the cave in the first part, I bet all he thought about was how to add in that air ventilating system into the next model.
Iron Man 2 features more explosions and flying objects to rival the first, and with the introduction of sidekick War Machine, it promises to be a slug fest like no other.
Me, I got a personal tour of action - right into the hot balls of fire that is the idiocy of cinema management. I bet it does wonders for the soft drink sales (which they jack up like 40 billion times).
Three Stars.
Doodles
“Don’t you get it? It’s not about you or us or whatever stupid thing that you did anymore!”
I could hear her from three blocks down, blaring at the poor man who happened to wake up on the wrong side of bed. With another woman. While his wife came home from a long night working as a waitress in a club.
But in places where I work, it’s all normal. Chaos and strife is the way of order around here, and sometimes you’re just left to thinking about how you managed to end up here in the first place.
Hope is a prospectus given to the imaginative mind of a 5-year-old. It’s a gift handed to their naive and untainted minds. As they step through the one-way rotating door of reality, it’s sad that most of them left the catalog behind.
I was a fat kid, sitting at the back of the class everyday. I liked to draw, and I’d draw everywhere I could - on the tables, in my textbooks, on myself, on other people… Life was a big white canvas for my pudgy hands.
And I loved my drawings, not that I can remember much of them now. They were innocent depictions of an otherwise derelict and forsaken human soul. Fast-forward thirty-five years and you have the resultant exposition of what remains as each creative scribble and doodle oozes out from a young impressionable mind.
Drawings became words, words turned to photographs, and photographs turned a means of survival in the damp corner of the street we have to call home.
I walked towards the screaming and stopped at the door, looking up and taking my time to compose myself. Traces of the fat kid still lingered as I shook off the urge to snap a romanticized perspective of our old neighborhood.
I shrugged it off with a glance at the news stand - nothing good, just like what we have here.
As the door slammed shut I made my way up to where the commotion was, one heavy step at a time. The floorboards have definitely seen better days, and the walls looked like they were permanently covered by a sheet of vomit. Heavy footsteps echoed mine as we made our way past each other. She was crying and emotional.
“Excuse me, but I can’t help but notice what a natural beauty you have,” I said the lines I used to stay up all night rehearsing.
“Get away from me, jerk!”
She shoved me aside, and I fell the fall I’ve done so many times. It helps that as a fat kid, you were never short of a good push and tease. The motions were graceful, the resulting cry of pain sharp, and the look of hurt afterwards priceless.
“Oh my god, are you ok? I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She came running back.
That was all the cue I needed. Too many times have I seen this happen, and too many times it has succeed. In this dark world where people mistake chance for hope, it’s easy to find desperate people not in their state of mind and take them away from what they treasure.
Forced into a life of misery, our streets are paved with a network of women offering sexual services in hope that they would be set free from the chains of reality that I put them in. A touch, a fall, and sweet words - promises of a chance at leaving the muck they see themselves in.
All this, from the harmless doodles of a fat five-year-old.
I could hear her from three blocks down, blaring at the poor man who happened to wake up on the wrong side of bed. With another woman. While his wife came home from a long night working as a waitress in a club.
But in places where I work, it’s all normal. Chaos and strife is the way of order around here, and sometimes you’re just left to thinking about how you managed to end up here in the first place.
Hope is a prospectus given to the imaginative mind of a 5-year-old. It’s a gift handed to their naive and untainted minds. As they step through the one-way rotating door of reality, it’s sad that most of them left the catalog behind.
I was a fat kid, sitting at the back of the class everyday. I liked to draw, and I’d draw everywhere I could - on the tables, in my textbooks, on myself, on other people… Life was a big white canvas for my pudgy hands.
And I loved my drawings, not that I can remember much of them now. They were innocent depictions of an otherwise derelict and forsaken human soul. Fast-forward thirty-five years and you have the resultant exposition of what remains as each creative scribble and doodle oozes out from a young impressionable mind.
Drawings became words, words turned to photographs, and photographs turned a means of survival in the damp corner of the street we have to call home.
I walked towards the screaming and stopped at the door, looking up and taking my time to compose myself. Traces of the fat kid still lingered as I shook off the urge to snap a romanticized perspective of our old neighborhood.
I shrugged it off with a glance at the news stand - nothing good, just like what we have here.
As the door slammed shut I made my way up to where the commotion was, one heavy step at a time. The floorboards have definitely seen better days, and the walls looked like they were permanently covered by a sheet of vomit. Heavy footsteps echoed mine as we made our way past each other. She was crying and emotional.
“Excuse me, but I can’t help but notice what a natural beauty you have,” I said the lines I used to stay up all night rehearsing.
“Get away from me, jerk!”
She shoved me aside, and I fell the fall I’ve done so many times. It helps that as a fat kid, you were never short of a good push and tease. The motions were graceful, the resulting cry of pain sharp, and the look of hurt afterwards priceless.
“Oh my god, are you ok? I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She came running back.
That was all the cue I needed. Too many times have I seen this happen, and too many times it has succeed. In this dark world where people mistake chance for hope, it’s easy to find desperate people not in their state of mind and take them away from what they treasure.
Forced into a life of misery, our streets are paved with a network of women offering sexual services in hope that they would be set free from the chains of reality that I put them in. A touch, a fall, and sweet words - promises of a chance at leaving the muck they see themselves in.
All this, from the harmless doodles of a fat five-year-old.
People
There are many ways to do wrong, and we are all too familiar with the sensation.
So very often do we hear stories about wrong doings in the paper, so many imperfect people, that we start to assume that every one's a big flaw in the flesh.
But if it happens to you - when the realization that the imperfection you are now face to face with is a familiar one - what then?
Do you remember the cruel names you called that person you read about in the paper? Can you retract the impulsive urge to exact justice to the sensationalized culprit?
We may be right - everyone's a sinner - but that is still no reason for us to pass judgement or even slap the namesake of shame onto our antagonist.
It may appear that they deserve the punishment you sentence them with, but if you would only settle your anger and play things over in your mind you will discover that rage is not the true emotion at work.
Our lives are very much reflected in those of others, in that we are not entirely unique.
While there may be others who live completely different lives, but there are more crunching the same chocolate bar as you are.
That, and life's a bitch. Don't be caught by surprise when you open your door and Deja vu plays a visit to mock your inner demon.
With that, may I implore that we all stray from anger and impulse, and have ourselves a wonderful co-existence.
So very often do we hear stories about wrong doings in the paper, so many imperfect people, that we start to assume that every one's a big flaw in the flesh.
But if it happens to you - when the realization that the imperfection you are now face to face with is a familiar one - what then?
Do you remember the cruel names you called that person you read about in the paper? Can you retract the impulsive urge to exact justice to the sensationalized culprit?
We may be right - everyone's a sinner - but that is still no reason for us to pass judgement or even slap the namesake of shame onto our antagonist.
It may appear that they deserve the punishment you sentence them with, but if you would only settle your anger and play things over in your mind you will discover that rage is not the true emotion at work.
Our lives are very much reflected in those of others, in that we are not entirely unique.
While there may be others who live completely different lives, but there are more crunching the same chocolate bar as you are.
That, and life's a bitch. Don't be caught by surprise when you open your door and Deja vu plays a visit to mock your inner demon.
With that, may I implore that we all stray from anger and impulse, and have ourselves a wonderful co-existence.
The magic of inactivity
There's a magic about staying still, and I love it.
I like simple. And coming from a guy who has far too many shirts (yes, I've finally said it), that means something.
What is it about going places? I for one can't stand the exhaustiveness of travel; making sure you don't get lost is one thing, but making sure you get back is another big problem.
To combat the underrated and totally overlooked problem of getting lost in the alternate, I suggest staying put - something I have had a lot of time to get used to.
What isn't great about staying still? Whereas going places is seen by many as necessary, I would like to attest to the positive attitudes of inertia.
It starts anywhere, in a place where people come or keep away from, at the time of the day where time doesn't matter, in a cultural setting of incomplete harmony.
So many things, yet nothing; simple yet wonderfully complex, this is the magic of inactivity.
It gets better with company (if you actually find someone who's willing to spend hours of their time with you just staying still). There's the understanding of being there, and the appreciation of knowing that you have each other to turn to when it all gets too much to handle.
You see, silence is far from it; a void of communication hardly signifies that there isn't any happening. When was the last time you looked at someone and found that you're able to understand them - listen to the words they want to say; feel the weight of their emotions; share every sway in the winds of their life?
You wish you do, and sometimes you actually get close enough to.
And it could all happen where nothing happens at all!
Your mind doesn't really need all that attention to be entertained, so give it a rest sometimes. You'll be surprised what you can come away with.
I like simple. And coming from a guy who has far too many shirts (yes, I've finally said it), that means something.
What is it about going places? I for one can't stand the exhaustiveness of travel; making sure you don't get lost is one thing, but making sure you get back is another big problem.
To combat the underrated and totally overlooked problem of getting lost in the alternate, I suggest staying put - something I have had a lot of time to get used to.
What isn't great about staying still? Whereas going places is seen by many as necessary, I would like to attest to the positive attitudes of inertia.
It starts anywhere, in a place where people come or keep away from, at the time of the day where time doesn't matter, in a cultural setting of incomplete harmony.
So many things, yet nothing; simple yet wonderfully complex, this is the magic of inactivity.
It gets better with company (if you actually find someone who's willing to spend hours of their time with you just staying still). There's the understanding of being there, and the appreciation of knowing that you have each other to turn to when it all gets too much to handle.
You see, silence is far from it; a void of communication hardly signifies that there isn't any happening. When was the last time you looked at someone and found that you're able to understand them - listen to the words they want to say; feel the weight of their emotions; share every sway in the winds of their life?
You wish you do, and sometimes you actually get close enough to.
And it could all happen where nothing happens at all!
Your mind doesn't really need all that attention to be entertained, so give it a rest sometimes. You'll be surprised what you can come away with.
Remember this tongue. Remember it well.
Jesus Christ - Save the Sinners... I saw this banner hanging outside of a church as I was on one of my bus trips around the island.
Shouldn't it be 'save us'? There's this pre-notion that all who follow cannot sin, and that is one hell of an assumption.
It's like saying that robbers are worse than thieves, lecturers are more noble than teachers, a millionaire philanthropist is bigger in heart than a social worker working hard to keep one single family afloat; that Christians are better than humans.
The person who put the words onto the banner did not think of these, and it disgusts me. Just because you think we need saving doesn't mean we want to be saved. It's like an infomercial telling people how their lives will be better by purchasing your lifestyle supplement.
Next time you flood us with your forced exorcism marketing tactic, remember that sins will always exist in the minds of the sinners, and no amount of religious piety will erase your impudence.
Shouldn't it be 'save us'? There's this pre-notion that all who follow cannot sin, and that is one hell of an assumption.
It's like saying that robbers are worse than thieves, lecturers are more noble than teachers, a millionaire philanthropist is bigger in heart than a social worker working hard to keep one single family afloat; that Christians are better than humans.
The person who put the words onto the banner did not think of these, and it disgusts me. Just because you think we need saving doesn't mean we want to be saved. It's like an infomercial telling people how their lives will be better by purchasing your lifestyle supplement.
Next time you flood us with your forced exorcism marketing tactic, remember that sins will always exist in the minds of the sinners, and no amount of religious piety will erase your impudence.
Flip Flop
That's the sound you make when you shift in-between decisions; when your mind trapped in a ping pong game, your attention being the ball and the two alternatives being the players; it's the cold drift that enters through the door when you open it - too comforting to shiver from, yet too cold to stand under for long.
And aren't we all such big fans of indecision?
When was the last time you were indecisive? What was it for? Did you end up with a good conclusion?
The world is a stage, said Shakespeare, and for all plays, a script - one written through the eyes of its creator, channeled through his blood and scratching the resultant exponential into permanence on a piece of paper.
But life is stranger than fiction, an irony in all sense, in that we write our stories, true, but our stories is but a small footnote on the greater script of a collection of all scripts. Look around you, the man whose walking dog scribbles; the woman who's asking for a smaller-sized dress scribbles; the guy who sits in front of his laptop blogging scribbles.
A script made entirely out of footnotes - isn't that queer?
But such circumstance, and it demands a certain amount of empathy from all of us to complete this silly theater we all are entrenched in.
When was the last time you read someone else's footnote? Give it a try sometimes, and maybe you won't find the sound of indecision that much annoying anymore.
And aren't we all such big fans of indecision?
When was the last time you were indecisive? What was it for? Did you end up with a good conclusion?
The world is a stage, said Shakespeare, and for all plays, a script - one written through the eyes of its creator, channeled through his blood and scratching the resultant exponential into permanence on a piece of paper.
But life is stranger than fiction, an irony in all sense, in that we write our stories, true, but our stories is but a small footnote on the greater script of a collection of all scripts. Look around you, the man whose walking dog scribbles; the woman who's asking for a smaller-sized dress scribbles; the guy who sits in front of his laptop blogging scribbles.
A script made entirely out of footnotes - isn't that queer?
But such circumstance, and it demands a certain amount of empathy from all of us to complete this silly theater we all are entrenched in.
When was the last time you read someone else's footnote? Give it a try sometimes, and maybe you won't find the sound of indecision that much annoying anymore.
