i'm a lover of such tradition of family love diffused in the chatter, the same questions asked every year and the same type of food. maybe i hate some of the false parts. it's all part of the whole package. yesterday lunch with the trumpeter and his parents alfresco and dinner with my girls recalling how we hung out so much at sammie's place. unaffected schoolgirls. salted vegetable duck soup and the sambal balachan. gazing out of the balcony and lazing on sammie's big bed and watching 'gigi' in her mother's room on secret school day afternoons. green silk flower camisole with black baubles and sprawled friend-like on the sheets.
i gave six hours to walking, traversing the city with the crowd, by myself. i purchased a pair of gold stilettos on sale. i bought a pair of running shoes, black as i like it, with fuschia bits. hence, i was focused. i admired a dress. i read on the train. i gave myself in to afterthoughts and reminded myself to rein it in.
sisters watching a japanese art film on tv with lychee martini ice cream whilst the father and mother are in bangkok visiting the relatives in a happy annual ritual.
morning comes soon.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
i couldn't adjust to the black background and returned to what i felt more intune with, plus that pretty picture on top. i'll look around for some other template that i feel right with when i have time. i can't wait for the weekend! i carried home a load of books from the school library today and i can't wait to consume them. besides six books on architecture to browse through so i can formulate my dissertation topic, i got these gems:
- dearest scott, dearest zelda: the love letters of f. scott and zelda fitzgerald [ brand new!]
- windblown world: the journals of jack kerouac 1947 - 1954 [brand new! thick and juicy!]
- women of the beat generation: the writers, artists and muses at the heart of a revolution by brenda knight
-film factory by andy warhol [with black and white pictures of those gorgeous women of the mod era with their kohl eyes and edie sedgwick ]
- the subterraneans and pic by jack kerouac [ purchased date stamped as 7 october 1982! it's got a woody kind of hard cover with fierce kubrick type fonts on the cover and it smells old and good!]
yesterday mingyao and i met yvette for beer, first at paulana b. at millenia walk then we drove to changi to try some belgium beer - chi may blue - at charlie's corner. that one was good! and the breeze and the random cute big dog and the informal plastic tables and attractive wide rimmed chimay glasses. yvette got us two packets of candies / chocs from candy empire at m. walk and it tastes so good and i'm actually very tired this week so it's purely narration but i love this cute friend. and mingyao and i drove along upper thomson towards yishun and decided on our random ritual of prata and teh ping at casaurina road prata place cept you had mee goreng and they ran out of tea so we had ice milo.
- dearest scott, dearest zelda: the love letters of f. scott and zelda fitzgerald [ brand new!]
- windblown world: the journals of jack kerouac 1947 - 1954 [brand new! thick and juicy!]
- women of the beat generation: the writers, artists and muses at the heart of a revolution by brenda knight
-film factory by andy warhol [with black and white pictures of those gorgeous women of the mod era with their kohl eyes and edie sedgwick ]
- the subterraneans and pic by jack kerouac [ purchased date stamped as 7 october 1982! it's got a woody kind of hard cover with fierce kubrick type fonts on the cover and it smells old and good!]
yesterday mingyao and i met yvette for beer, first at paulana b. at millenia walk then we drove to changi to try some belgium beer - chi may blue - at charlie's corner. that one was good! and the breeze and the random cute big dog and the informal plastic tables and attractive wide rimmed chimay glasses. yvette got us two packets of candies / chocs from candy empire at m. walk and it tastes so good and i'm actually very tired this week so it's purely narration but i love this cute friend. and mingyao and i drove along upper thomson towards yishun and decided on our random ritual of prata and teh ping at casaurina road prata place cept you had mee goreng and they ran out of tea so we had ice milo.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
i'm rather apprehensive. like doing a tip-toe to the edge before a dive and a plunge. althought i loved my very white and simple layout i decided that some change would be refreshing. black's more difficult. there are edges. white's more non-exhaustive on the brain. there's edie sedgwick looking lovely above and a random quote from breakfast at tiffany's till i decide further what else i'd like there. comment my friends.
amy winehouse's 'help yourself' is very good. it's sad and addictive.
we had a date. it was great.
amy winehouse's 'help yourself' is very good. it's sad and addictive.
we had a date. it was great.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
since i've been tagged by yuling, here goes my first meme. i'm thankful for too many things so i'll just list them within the time frame of this week.
Name five of life's simple pleasures that you like most, then pick five people to do the same. Try to be original and creative and not use things that someone else has already used:
one ++ i love that i'm able to go straight to the trumpeter to cry out my woes and to feel better just by listening to his voice
two ++ lying in bed at night in the dark talking to my second sister about grown up things in a casual familiar manner, like we used to do talking as children.
three ++ ee jie packing lunch [mash potato with mushroom sauce and ovenbacked chicken with lime and some superb gravy] for us to take to work/school and cooking us great dinners
four ++ adidas sneakers to take the place of my torn nike trainers temporarily so i can run this morning.
five ++ a good book to read on the train ride while listening to the very funky fiona apple.
okay, bren's been tagged: hence i tag:
+ sharon
+ yuhui
+ caroline
+ shu
+ wyn
Name five of life's simple pleasures that you like most, then pick five people to do the same. Try to be original and creative and not use things that someone else has already used:
one ++ i love that i'm able to go straight to the trumpeter to cry out my woes and to feel better just by listening to his voice
two ++ lying in bed at night in the dark talking to my second sister about grown up things in a casual familiar manner, like we used to do talking as children.
three ++ ee jie packing lunch [mash potato with mushroom sauce and ovenbacked chicken with lime and some superb gravy] for us to take to work/school and cooking us great dinners
four ++ adidas sneakers to take the place of my torn nike trainers temporarily so i can run this morning.
five ++ a good book to read on the train ride while listening to the very funky fiona apple.
okay, bren's been tagged: hence i tag:
+ sharon
+ yuhui
+ caroline
+ shu
+ wyn
Sunday, January 22, 2006
"when you find your soul mate, there can be no question, no hesitation, no games. you have been lovers before in many other lives, so you are attuned to each other immediately. why else is there love at first sight? hollywood is often chided for its use of music coming out of nowhere in a big love scene. believe me, there is music then - music from the spheres." - eileen kaufmann, from who won't walk with tigers
"but we're living on love, of course. last night we went to an ionesco play. the bald soprano, and laughed louder than anyone else in the audience. that's another thing i like about us - we make noise. we play. he jumps over fire hydrants and tries to vault parking meters, eek. i whistle in the street, and tell him how my mother used to tell me to stop that. and when i am my usual antic self, the look of pleasure on him is like grace. with no effort, or adjustment, i can't imagine life without him." - hettie jones, from how i became hettie jones
extracts from a different beat: writings by women of the beat generation
companionship is like a refreshment. sometimes the lovelife is an addition, sometimes it is a subtraction. to me it's a necessary equation that makes a whole, a whole. i speak alot about this love because i bask in it and it engulfs me like a quake. physical hunger is always more substantially filled when there's two. eating changes from mere sustenance to an adventure of the palate. what shall we eat when we are hungry on a sunday noon? we walked into the crystal jade cakery and bought such sweet bread and sat by the movie screens outside the theatre enjoying our gastronomical adventure. i saved a piece of crumbly lao po bing. a token of love. tomorrow's breakfast will be an unspoken reminder of the delightful maxims cake shop in melbourne's chinatown last july. when i eat lao po bing, that is what i think about.
it breaks my heart when it breaks your heart when it breaks my heart when it breaks your heart. no more maggi mee!
"but we're living on love, of course. last night we went to an ionesco play. the bald soprano, and laughed louder than anyone else in the audience. that's another thing i like about us - we make noise. we play. he jumps over fire hydrants and tries to vault parking meters, eek. i whistle in the street, and tell him how my mother used to tell me to stop that. and when i am my usual antic self, the look of pleasure on him is like grace. with no effort, or adjustment, i can't imagine life without him." - hettie jones, from how i became hettie jones
extracts from a different beat: writings by women of the beat generation
companionship is like a refreshment. sometimes the lovelife is an addition, sometimes it is a subtraction. to me it's a necessary equation that makes a whole, a whole. i speak alot about this love because i bask in it and it engulfs me like a quake. physical hunger is always more substantially filled when there's two. eating changes from mere sustenance to an adventure of the palate. what shall we eat when we are hungry on a sunday noon? we walked into the crystal jade cakery and bought such sweet bread and sat by the movie screens outside the theatre enjoying our gastronomical adventure. i saved a piece of crumbly lao po bing. a token of love. tomorrow's breakfast will be an unspoken reminder of the delightful maxims cake shop in melbourne's chinatown last july. when i eat lao po bing, that is what i think about.
it breaks my heart when it breaks your heart when it breaks my heart when it breaks your heart. no more maggi mee!
Friday, January 20, 2006
You scored as Journalism. You are an aspiring journalist, and you should major in journalism! Like me, you are passionate about writing and expressing yourself, and you want the world to understand your beliefs through writing.
What is your Perfect Major? (PLEASE RATE ME!!<3) created with QuizFarm.com |
Thursday, January 19, 2006
i spent a horribly sleepy afternoon cadding by funny collegues.
-is your boyfriend romantic?
-yes.
replied without a pause. glee in eyes, like okay, i miss you.
i had a chocolate. mingyao called.
-is it raining over there? i'm craving for lavander wanton mee. you want? i'll drive down and pick you up.
glee in tone. it rained quick fickle showers in the near dusk. the prattle on the shophouse roof. an orchestra really. shadows outside louvres and water on the timber slats that drip pretty-like.
- flowers for your table? they're not cut nice enough for the reception desk.
- okay, nice. are they real?
they are really very sweet smelling huge milky roses painted silver on the outside few petals. a cruelty, falsity. beautiful though. stalks removed and opaque and soft. the veins.
mingyao arrives and i am whisked off to have slurpy gravy wanton mee in a gaudy food place brightly lit. i get a cool gift he spent twelve hours making for me. orange county and rachel bilson and adam brody. so sweet you! on the ride home he has a thought.
- you know what i crave?
- what
- ribena. let's stop at the petrol station and get us a packet each.
- okay!
suburban adventures in silly speak, on a black canvas and a wet road.
last night. sms goodnights. jelly knees and swoons make like the real stuff of life actually.
mingyao: i love you from the bottom of my heart.
mei: i love you from the top, bottom, left and right of my heart, and even with all the veins, capillaries, arteries, valves, blood cells, oxygen, platelets and haemoglobin.
mingyao: i love you even from that component of my blood which is low in count - eosinophile.
ah. my sustenance.
-is your boyfriend romantic?
-yes.
replied without a pause. glee in eyes, like okay, i miss you.
i had a chocolate. mingyao called.
-is it raining over there? i'm craving for lavander wanton mee. you want? i'll drive down and pick you up.
glee in tone. it rained quick fickle showers in the near dusk. the prattle on the shophouse roof. an orchestra really. shadows outside louvres and water on the timber slats that drip pretty-like.
- flowers for your table? they're not cut nice enough for the reception desk.
- okay, nice. are they real?
they are really very sweet smelling huge milky roses painted silver on the outside few petals. a cruelty, falsity. beautiful though. stalks removed and opaque and soft. the veins.
mingyao arrives and i am whisked off to have slurpy gravy wanton mee in a gaudy food place brightly lit. i get a cool gift he spent twelve hours making for me. orange county and rachel bilson and adam brody. so sweet you! on the ride home he has a thought.
- you know what i crave?
- what
- ribena. let's stop at the petrol station and get us a packet each.
- okay!
suburban adventures in silly speak, on a black canvas and a wet road.
last night. sms goodnights. jelly knees and swoons make like the real stuff of life actually.
mingyao: i love you from the bottom of my heart.
mei: i love you from the top, bottom, left and right of my heart, and even with all the veins, capillaries, arteries, valves, blood cells, oxygen, platelets and haemoglobin.
mingyao: i love you even from that component of my blood which is low in count - eosinophile.
ah. my sustenance.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
The poems of Dylan Thomas.
"I bought it once when i was almost broke," she said. "Whenever I'm almost broke I buy an expensive book."
The Pisan Cantos of Pound.
"I stole that," she said. "I think that's the only moral way to get books."
...
She was reading Freud ( the red-covered Perma-Book edition of the Introductory Lectures) and drinking black coffee. She had returned to school. She was studying French. She wanted to read Rimbaud in the original.
...
extract from leo skir's 'elise cowen: a brief memoir of the fifties', taken from 'a diferent beat: writings by women of the beat generation'
...
today i wanted to ramble and not be a social creature so i wandered off by myself during lunch, took a peep at the white room at haji lane. cafe signs let me into bali lane but they looked lonely. i crossed the road to the coffee bean and tea leaf at hospital and read the newspapers while waiting for my sandwich order. i didn't want rice. didn't want cake. i might have liked a quiche. actually i just craved solitude. i like solitary lunches. faux pearls and dark blue jeans and orange slippers and a brown paper lunch bag.
...
my blue/black nike runners have officially deceased. while running this morning both soles peeled away and my light steps became plods. perhaps this is a celebration of having used my shoes to this extent. i wished it was not now because i planned to run every morning. and i don't like new shoes. the first few wearings are as hard as, say, new books, or the pen with the wrong ink flow - staggered, handicapped. however, thank God for music and mornings.
"I bought it once when i was almost broke," she said. "Whenever I'm almost broke I buy an expensive book."
The Pisan Cantos of Pound.
"I stole that," she said. "I think that's the only moral way to get books."
...
She was reading Freud ( the red-covered Perma-Book edition of the Introductory Lectures) and drinking black coffee. She had returned to school. She was studying French. She wanted to read Rimbaud in the original.
...
extract from leo skir's 'elise cowen: a brief memoir of the fifties', taken from 'a diferent beat: writings by women of the beat generation'
...
today i wanted to ramble and not be a social creature so i wandered off by myself during lunch, took a peep at the white room at haji lane. cafe signs let me into bali lane but they looked lonely. i crossed the road to the coffee bean and tea leaf at hospital and read the newspapers while waiting for my sandwich order. i didn't want rice. didn't want cake. i might have liked a quiche. actually i just craved solitude. i like solitary lunches. faux pearls and dark blue jeans and orange slippers and a brown paper lunch bag.
...
my blue/black nike runners have officially deceased. while running this morning both soles peeled away and my light steps became plods. perhaps this is a celebration of having used my shoes to this extent. i wished it was not now because i planned to run every morning. and i don't like new shoes. the first few wearings are as hard as, say, new books, or the pen with the wrong ink flow - staggered, handicapped. however, thank God for music and mornings.
fascinating blanks and the careful laying out of words on a page that paints your mind and you take a pregnant pause to ponder at almost every phrase. the beat poets, this week's mental breakfast on the train to work, and 60s sounds in my ear, without which the daily train scene to work would be a sleepy haze of worrying about stops in between the waking and the dreaming. the morning crowd is not that fascinating to observe. they're almost all always going to work. the non-peak hour crowds are more interesting to observe. where be they going now, if not with the dull peak-hour columns sardined into carriages with similar looks that reinstate they'd rather be in bed still.
what gives? what grooves you along to the beat that is your own? texture's mine. feel and peel. i love my very indigo, very understated, bookish, silent jeans. project runway - jay's collection is too cool. but the prettiest bit was wendy's little girl skipping behind that diorama screen.
thank you you, for coming to take me out for dinner although you've had a packed day being a bookish preppy scholar today. i love you. twirling skirt hemmings and standing at tip toe on the edge of an edge. you make me sense so.
what gives? what grooves you along to the beat that is your own? texture's mine. feel and peel. i love my very indigo, very understated, bookish, silent jeans. project runway - jay's collection is too cool. but the prettiest bit was wendy's little girl skipping behind that diorama screen.
thank you you, for coming to take me out for dinner although you've had a packed day being a bookish preppy scholar today. i love you. twirling skirt hemmings and standing at tip toe on the edge of an edge. you make me sense so.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
We went up to the top of the highest hill
And stopped
Still
It was just so beautiful
It was just so beautiful
It was just so beautiful
This is where the shadows come to play
'Twixt the dayAnd night
Dancing and skipping
Along a chink of light
Somewhere in between
The waxing and the waning wave
Somewhere in between
What the song and silence say
Somewhere in between
The ticking and the tocking clock
Somewhere in a dream between
Sleep and waking up
Somewhere in between
Breathing out and breathing in
Like twilight is neither night nor morning
kate bush 'somewhere in between' - current listen
women of the beat generation: the writers, artists and muses at the heart of the revolution - current read
Friday, January 13, 2006
i went to ntu with sharon and sammie for an event planned by mingyao and we had fun lounging about on comfortable sofas, taking silly snap shots and walking around telling silly 'anakin' jokes and playing paper games while waiting for the event to start, talking to a photo champ with a nice shirt that matched his umbrella and ended up at her hostel eating swiss truffles and other miscellaneous chocolates wrapped in smooth white paper with coloured bird prints and a red paper flower. and we fetched sharon home and went to MoS to hang out a bit with his friends after hokkein mee and barbacued sting ray at the outdoor esplanade food place and i saw cheng hui dancing happily in the room with uppity lounge music and we sat and bobbed around and we drove home happily and kissed goodnight. end of story. i waited too long to go and run and the sky looks evil now like someone left a sudden charcoal stain across the blues and whites that's all meshed up now in the sky and this afternoon mingyao drove by nus and we had relatively satisfactory vietnamese sliced beef noodle and cheap iced desserts [ mango and sago is my favourite]. random by the way i love you and ahh your royal cuteness drive me nuts. and we have tickets to kings of convenience on the sixteenth of the third month which we bought via sistic online via the handsome laptop in the car before we drove off and hello hello... hola! i had some chocolates [the white chocolate one with almond paste something is my favourite] for breakfast while reading my present from sharon a fashiony issue of self service with cute interviews that i like and the rain should wait a bit. i'm going to run now.
anway it didn't rain. i ran. it was good because it was long. but it was bad because it was broken. the strokes and franz ferdinand is good to run to. so are the random cute lazy quirky tangy tracks on lush. but slash the hip hop. the moon had backlighting and a slim furry long horizontal dash of cloud aross the front. when those sweet girl tracks with cute thoughtful love song lyrics came on lush i thought of you and smiled to myself in my blue nike singlet and my faithful but dying blue/black nike shoes, pounding the pavement, sometimes like a phenomenon in my head.
anway it didn't rain. i ran. it was good because it was long. but it was bad because it was broken. the strokes and franz ferdinand is good to run to. so are the random cute lazy quirky tangy tracks on lush. but slash the hip hop. the moon had backlighting and a slim furry long horizontal dash of cloud aross the front. when those sweet girl tracks with cute thoughtful love song lyrics came on lush i thought of you and smiled to myself in my blue nike singlet and my faithful but dying blue/black nike shoes, pounding the pavement, sometimes like a phenomenon in my head.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
this is our winter [of discontentment]. the rain shades the mornings and nights to greys. i think we have temporarily forgotten what it is like to have the hot tropical sun rays colouring and warming our skins. and like a hiatus taken upon fractures and fevers, we really want our perennial sun back. i think rain like that is really quite nice but longer than a day, or even two, non-stop, and it gets me a little edgy; makes my birks murky and i cannot go for proper runs or swims because it hardly even just drizzles. it feels like sydney, vancouver, in winter. umbrella-weather.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
thinking back, i really missed those times when my mother would always be there to pick me up from school or have lunch with me in school while waiting for my younger sister to finish class. i was very proud of my mother then when kids dreaded having their parents around, and i still am immensely full of affection for her.
i met up with brenda at the coffee bean and tea leaf today. it rained pails like someone forgot to turn off the tap. people at the bus stop huddled in mutual agitation at the wetness and i'm sure, secretly at the marvellous gigantic sweep of all the water like a sheet of mist. it could be romantic but inconvenience erases all cinematic notions and just as i write i hear the rain starting up again outside the dark sky, which reminds me of a line i read from the book of neruda's love poetry that i gave her for her birthday that i flipped through in the cafe that caught my mind's eye. The night gallops on its shadowy mare/shedding blue tassels over the land [from 'leaning into the afternoons]'. i met mingyao in the train [ there's something romantic about meetings in trains/subways - they always seem dramatic in novels - transportation and love, hmm ] mingyao and i had a good time with yvette at liquid kitchen at siglap after a very good dinner at redstar. four hours of conversation with beer and conversation was a killer combination that seemed like just minutes despite an inappropriate coarse potpourri of music in the background. low light and tangerine chairs. i think the rain stopped for us to meet. we forgot to take photographs, so soaked in the cradle of the talk. yvette gave me a five-liner introduction to the beat poets/writers whom i've just started to get interested in. currently reading about hemingway's adventures in paris, and he speaks about meeting scott fitzgerald. strangers reading about the conversations of history spoken on random afternoons. cool.
i met up with brenda at the coffee bean and tea leaf today. it rained pails like someone forgot to turn off the tap. people at the bus stop huddled in mutual agitation at the wetness and i'm sure, secretly at the marvellous gigantic sweep of all the water like a sheet of mist. it could be romantic but inconvenience erases all cinematic notions and just as i write i hear the rain starting up again outside the dark sky, which reminds me of a line i read from the book of neruda's love poetry that i gave her for her birthday that i flipped through in the cafe that caught my mind's eye. The night gallops on its shadowy mare/shedding blue tassels over the land [from 'leaning into the afternoons]'. i met mingyao in the train [ there's something romantic about meetings in trains/subways - they always seem dramatic in novels - transportation and love, hmm ] mingyao and i had a good time with yvette at liquid kitchen at siglap after a very good dinner at redstar. four hours of conversation with beer and conversation was a killer combination that seemed like just minutes despite an inappropriate coarse potpourri of music in the background. low light and tangerine chairs. i think the rain stopped for us to meet. we forgot to take photographs, so soaked in the cradle of the talk. yvette gave me a five-liner introduction to the beat poets/writers whom i've just started to get interested in. currently reading about hemingway's adventures in paris, and he speaks about meeting scott fitzgerald. strangers reading about the conversations of history spoken on random afternoons. cool.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
it was perhaps the best thing that ever happened to me, that i went to victoria junior college and there was the internet and there was the staircase linking the odac room to the band room in the canteen. college love makes like a cute tale. Love me tender/Love me sweet/Never let me go/You have made my life complete/And I love you so - elvis playing at the camp fire when we were chided by mrs lee as we sat by the gate.
today is our fifth year anniversary
and we had char siew rice and
duck with plum sauce and
caught a movie, unplanned, and
i am still crazily in love with
you. case of songs [the strokes/fiona apple
/the american analog set,
and etcetera etcetera
exchanged for a love letter of
nonsensical rhymes
[i was too lazy to try for limricks]
and do you understand what
all this means the handholding and
that look in your eye and stuff
and that you could love me like that
and that sms about the cure's 'love song'
whatever words I say/
i will always love you/
i will always love you/
-i appreciate that you appreciate me
happy anniversary.
today is our fifth year anniversary
and we had char siew rice and
duck with plum sauce and
caught a movie, unplanned, and
i am still crazily in love with
you. case of songs [the strokes/fiona apple
/the american analog set,
and etcetera etcetera
exchanged for a love letter of
nonsensical rhymes
[i was too lazy to try for limricks]
and do you understand what
all this means the handholding and
that look in your eye and stuff
and that you could love me like that
and that sms about the cure's 'love song'
whatever words I say/
i will always love you/
i will always love you/
-i appreciate that you appreciate me
happy anniversary.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
newly discovered tunes from www.epitonic.com.
thoughts. superiority and confidence. with confidence comes a natural superiority. superiority without confidence is artificiality.
competence is the key to confidence. hard work is the key to competence. aptitude is the key to hard work. inspiration is the key to aptitude. exposure is the key to inspiration. hard work is th key to exposure. hence. hard work.
art versus culture. art within the realm of culture. culture within the realm of art. art's superiority to culture. culture's superiority to art. culture = art. culture not = art. discrimination within art. discrimination within culture.
drinking milo at 1am.
a good run is a real run. a real run good run.
we friends had ice coffee [ they, gelato] under a bridge by the river.
sms: lemme know when you get home. when you get home lemme know. reply: i will let you know when i get home. when i get home i will let you know.
the mastery over a language is the indulgence of excess words and syllybus that brings forth grins and laughter because such technicality is the basis for fun affection. affectionate fun.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Rory: [at town meeting, during the town-troubadour debate] ... sometimes you have something you need to say but you can't, because the words won't come out or you get scared or you feel stupid. So, if you could write a song and sing it, then you could say what you need to say and it would be beautiful and people would listen and you wouldn't make a complete idiot out of yourself. But all of us can't be songwriters, so some of us will never be able to say what we're thinking or what we want other people to know we're thinking, so we'll never be able to get the chance to make things right again...
no, instead, fill it full on the blank slate and enjoy the ride. twelve commandments for next year: do 12 things i've never done in my life before, one for each month. there, broad enough for creativity.
"so everybody put your best suit or dress on
let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
as thirty dialogues bleed into one
i wish the world was flat like the old days
then i could travel just by folding a map
no more airplanes, or speedtrains, or freeways
there'd be no distance that can hold us back.
there'd be no distance that could hold us back
so this is the new year"
-dcfc; the new year
it ended with some minutes like the bitter sorrow of milk gone bad but begun like molasses. sweetened.
no, instead, fill it full on the blank slate and enjoy the ride. twelve commandments for next year: do 12 things i've never done in my life before, one for each month. there, broad enough for creativity.
"so everybody put your best suit or dress on
let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
as thirty dialogues bleed into one
i wish the world was flat like the old days
then i could travel just by folding a map
no more airplanes, or speedtrains, or freeways
there'd be no distance that can hold us back.
there'd be no distance that could hold us back
so this is the new year"
-dcfc; the new year
it ended with some minutes like the bitter sorrow of milk gone bad but begun like molasses. sweetened.