Saturday, January 07, 2006
Mixed Up Mother Goose
Confused confabulations. Heh.
The Ice Queen and The Beast.
The Wicked Witch and Prince Charming.
Confused confabulations. Heh.
The Ice Queen and The Beast.
The Wicked Witch and Prince Charming.
Somehow, for some reason when I'm happy I feel no urge to write.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not feeling sad right now. Just a little claustrophobic, trapped here in my little jail cell on the ward tending to patients' whims and desires. This morning was particularly entertaining, being badgered by nurses to complete nine discharges stat, because the patients were badgering them, because they wanted to go home right now. Nevermind that there was only one doctor around, and he had to see a patient on intensive care first... and nevermind that no amount of badgering would have made me arrive any sooner - in fact, if I could have my way the converse would be true.
So anyway.
*****
Circle in the City
I don't know if any of you have noticed but the ERP gantries are reproducing like bunnies.
Now a simple sojourn into the city for an essential life's amenity - such as a steak sandwich and a martini or five at Mortons - has one passing through the unpearly gates of not just one, but two ERP gantries.
I imagine the concept is much like Dante's circles of hell... I reached level two, yay me. What's the elusive prize that lies right at the heart of the myriad rings of gantries, one wonders? What price happiness.... twelve dollars? :)
*****
Unexpected
There was something about her that was simply... perfect.
It wasn't something easy to qualify, or quantify. It wasn't simply about that stunning (but deceptively gentle) smile that would flash across her face from time to time, like a much-awaited ray of warm sunshine piercing through clouds on an overcast day. But it was a fair dash of this.
It wasn't just about those large, remarkably alive eyes that stopped his breath once as he watched her watching him over the rim of a cocktail glass. But it was a large measure of this.
It wasn't merely the chocolately richness of her laugh, or the funny, nasal squawks and moans she sometimes emanated when she was clowning around. Nor simply about her witty repartee which she wielded with simple ease. Both of these were present in abundance though.
It did have almost everything to do with the way everything seemed so easy and natural around her; how she somehow drew out long-forgotten laughter and effortless conversation from him; how lunch, or dinner (or a... "talking session") could last forever if they weren't careful - how time flashed by both of them and left them pleasantly surprised in their mutual company. How he could just watch her watching him as they smiled, and laughed, and flirted with each other with their eyes... and feel happy simply to be near her.
How the movie moments he had forgotten how to experience, but learnt how to almost-create, like a director does before his video camera, but painting instead on the cluttered canvas of his life - "almost-create" because one can never truly capture the essence of the moment unless it happens absolutely spontaneously, and against our wills -- how those moments had sprung into his life again, quite unexpectedly - moment, after moment, after moment, searing themselves into his mind.
At some point he had started to fall - very much against his will - in.. more than like... with her.
*****
Wordless
There is a strange power in words, sometimes - like weaving a spell of thought and mind, casting into your readers - or, in my earlier days - listeners - one's thoughts and feelings or perhaps just giving them a little of your mirth and happiness... for them. Yet when that power is applied incorrectly, the magic doesn't just fail to happen - sometimes it fades.
Once upon a time the words came too easily, daily on the telephone...
I love you...?
I love you.
I miss you.
I can't remember it all that well now, the words seem long lost in the mists of time - or perhaps just in the seas between my ears.... but I remember that I was happy to speak them - it was a little like taking an intoxicating drug. I was happy to hear them as well...... it was as if the words alone were making us euphoric, to hear these secret confessions in our head spilled out across the seas of our souls a thousand miles across the world...
Except, somehow in retrospect the significance was missing - or perhaps the magic was used up... and the words seem hollow, and empty, and devoid of meaning.
It wasn't love, then... it was just infatuation. And when the moment passed....
... the words became, just words.
Point. Counterpoint. Query, answer, and refrain.
Empty.
I am afraid of those words again, the way I had been a myriad lifetimes ago with Her. I am afraid to speak them because that foray into self-discovery, into near hedonistic experimentation with the Words... led to disappointment, and an utter lack of significance and permanence... to a memory that was powerful for an instant, then lost, blooming, then fading away like a transient rose in the ever changing garden of time.
I couldn't speak them to Her often enough - if at all - because it seemed precious... too precious, like a drop of life's blood - only to be uttered in a moment of absolute sincerity... in an instant of absolute certainty. When the stars crossed a certain way, or the feng-shui calenders aligned... or whatever. Laugh.
And so if I do not speak those words often enough now... can I be blamed for wanting something... more than I deserve?
*****
Falling
Once upon a time, when I was very small, I used to have this strange dream of falling - just falling. Through nothing, through empty air, with my arms outstretched, and my eyes closed. Black, all around me.
No unpleasant thoughts of the ground rushing up to meet me... no nauseating sensation of vertigo or horrible visuals of rapidly enlarging skyscrapers... or even sheep.
Just wonderful, liberating tranquilty. Peace.
It was a nice dream.
Sometimes, listening to the oddly therapeutic sound of your heartbeat and drowsing off... it feels like that.
*****
Without Grace
You don't think she's beautiful? Why not? - she asked.
Because she is without grace - he answered.
She may learn how to be one day, but I feel she will never be able to... and hence she cannot be beautiful, to me. Do you understand?
She paused, for a moment, then replied : Yes.
Life is filled with strange ironies. A few days later, he found grace.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not feeling sad right now. Just a little claustrophobic, trapped here in my little jail cell on the ward tending to patients' whims and desires. This morning was particularly entertaining, being badgered by nurses to complete nine discharges stat, because the patients were badgering them, because they wanted to go home right now. Nevermind that there was only one doctor around, and he had to see a patient on intensive care first... and nevermind that no amount of badgering would have made me arrive any sooner - in fact, if I could have my way the converse would be true.
So anyway.
*****
Circle in the City
I don't know if any of you have noticed but the ERP gantries are reproducing like bunnies.
Now a simple sojourn into the city for an essential life's amenity - such as a steak sandwich and a martini or five at Mortons - has one passing through the unpearly gates of not just one, but two ERP gantries.
I imagine the concept is much like Dante's circles of hell... I reached level two, yay me. What's the elusive prize that lies right at the heart of the myriad rings of gantries, one wonders? What price happiness.... twelve dollars? :)
*****
Unexpected
There was something about her that was simply... perfect.
It wasn't something easy to qualify, or quantify. It wasn't simply about that stunning (but deceptively gentle) smile that would flash across her face from time to time, like a much-awaited ray of warm sunshine piercing through clouds on an overcast day. But it was a fair dash of this.
It wasn't just about those large, remarkably alive eyes that stopped his breath once as he watched her watching him over the rim of a cocktail glass. But it was a large measure of this.
It wasn't merely the chocolately richness of her laugh, or the funny, nasal squawks and moans she sometimes emanated when she was clowning around. Nor simply about her witty repartee which she wielded with simple ease. Both of these were present in abundance though.
It did have almost everything to do with the way everything seemed so easy and natural around her; how she somehow drew out long-forgotten laughter and effortless conversation from him; how lunch, or dinner (or a... "talking session") could last forever if they weren't careful - how time flashed by both of them and left them pleasantly surprised in their mutual company. How he could just watch her watching him as they smiled, and laughed, and flirted with each other with their eyes... and feel happy simply to be near her.
How the movie moments he had forgotten how to experience, but learnt how to almost-create, like a director does before his video camera, but painting instead on the cluttered canvas of his life - "almost-create" because one can never truly capture the essence of the moment unless it happens absolutely spontaneously, and against our wills -- how those moments had sprung into his life again, quite unexpectedly - moment, after moment, after moment, searing themselves into his mind.
At some point he had started to fall - very much against his will - in.. more than like... with her.
*****
Wordless
There is a strange power in words, sometimes - like weaving a spell of thought and mind, casting into your readers - or, in my earlier days - listeners - one's thoughts and feelings or perhaps just giving them a little of your mirth and happiness... for them. Yet when that power is applied incorrectly, the magic doesn't just fail to happen - sometimes it fades.
Once upon a time the words came too easily, daily on the telephone...
I love you...?
I love you.
I miss you.
I can't remember it all that well now, the words seem long lost in the mists of time - or perhaps just in the seas between my ears.... but I remember that I was happy to speak them - it was a little like taking an intoxicating drug. I was happy to hear them as well...... it was as if the words alone were making us euphoric, to hear these secret confessions in our head spilled out across the seas of our souls a thousand miles across the world...
Except, somehow in retrospect the significance was missing - or perhaps the magic was used up... and the words seem hollow, and empty, and devoid of meaning.
It wasn't love, then... it was just infatuation. And when the moment passed....
... the words became, just words.
Point. Counterpoint. Query, answer, and refrain.
Empty.
I am afraid of those words again, the way I had been a myriad lifetimes ago with Her. I am afraid to speak them because that foray into self-discovery, into near hedonistic experimentation with the Words... led to disappointment, and an utter lack of significance and permanence... to a memory that was powerful for an instant, then lost, blooming, then fading away like a transient rose in the ever changing garden of time.
I couldn't speak them to Her often enough - if at all - because it seemed precious... too precious, like a drop of life's blood - only to be uttered in a moment of absolute sincerity... in an instant of absolute certainty. When the stars crossed a certain way, or the feng-shui calenders aligned... or whatever. Laugh.
And so if I do not speak those words often enough now... can I be blamed for wanting something... more than I deserve?
*****
Falling
Once upon a time, when I was very small, I used to have this strange dream of falling - just falling. Through nothing, through empty air, with my arms outstretched, and my eyes closed. Black, all around me.
No unpleasant thoughts of the ground rushing up to meet me... no nauseating sensation of vertigo or horrible visuals of rapidly enlarging skyscrapers... or even sheep.
Just wonderful, liberating tranquilty. Peace.
It was a nice dream.
Sometimes, listening to the oddly therapeutic sound of your heartbeat and drowsing off... it feels like that.
*****
Without Grace
You don't think she's beautiful? Why not? - she asked.
Because she is without grace - he answered.
She may learn how to be one day, but I feel she will never be able to... and hence she cannot be beautiful, to me. Do you understand?
She paused, for a moment, then replied : Yes.
Life is filled with strange ironies. A few days later, he found grace.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Bollero
"What a horribly fat, ugly pigeon", he said, as they walked.
There was something about the moment. About her eyes, and about the way she was looking at him, looking at her.
They leant in.
There was something about the moment. About her eyes, and about the way she was looking at him, looking at her.
They leant in.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
New Years Resolution Number One
I'm a peacable, law-abiding citizen, I really am I swear.
But once in a while something like this happens, and before you know it you've been miyagi-tomorrowed. Talk about an unprovoked double-whammy. Harrumph.
So my new year's resolution is tobump off mr miyagi be extra nice and return the favour.
Mr Miyagi has the girls, and the... best girls. You know you want to read him already. Go on then, http://miyagi.sg
there. take that you foul, fiendish publicity-spreading evildoer. You can have all 200 of mycrazed, psychotc nutcase fans friendly readers.
But once in a while something like this happens, and before you know it you've been miyagi-tomorrowed. Talk about an unprovoked double-whammy. Harrumph.
So my new year's resolution is to
Mr Miyagi has the girls, and the... best girls. You know you want to read him already. Go on then, http://miyagi.sg
there. take that you foul, fiendish publicity-spreading evildoer. You can have all 200 of my
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
In Good Company
Over the wild and wanton new year loonnng weekend (fri, sat, sun, mon), in a fit of drunken debauchery, I consumed :
1.5 glasses of champagne (with oyster)
0.5 measure of sex on the beach
1 glass of (rather nice) cabernet shiraz
1 shot of white bacardi (disgusting)
many, many glasses of coke
that's 4 units in 4 days.
And yet I've had the most wonderful, wonderful time I've had, in years.
Over the wild and wanton new year loonnng weekend (fri, sat, sun, mon), in a fit of drunken debauchery, I consumed :
1.5 glasses of champagne (with oyster)
0.5 measure of sex on the beach
1 glass of (rather nice) cabernet shiraz
1 shot of white bacardi (disgusting)
many, many glasses of coke
that's 4 units in 4 days.
And yet I've had the most wonderful, wonderful time I've had, in years.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Snippets
... and then, suddenly, it was six am. Again.
*****
She asked how it could be that she could spend so much time with him...
... he had been wondering just that : how come it was so easy to spend so much time with her?
He wasn't a loner, per se - nor was she, that was obvious. But still...
*****
His guard fell for an instant, and she unerringly found the breach, attacking relentlessly with her finger-tip...
He tried to dodgy (futilely) and to counter attack (not very effectively) and in the end settled for just pinning her down by her wrists, laughing...
his eyes never left hers, as for a moment, they were still.
... then the battle resumed.
She had a very ticklish fingertip.
*****
She asked how it could be that she could spend so much time with him...
... he had been wondering just that : how come it was so easy to spend so much time with her?
He wasn't a loner, per se - nor was she, that was obvious. But still...
*****
His guard fell for an instant, and she unerringly found the breach, attacking relentlessly with her finger-tip...
He tried to dodgy (futilely) and to counter attack (not very effectively) and in the end settled for just pinning her down by her wrists, laughing...
his eyes never left hers, as for a moment, they were still.
... then the battle resumed.
She had a very ticklish fingertip.
