Monday, August 08, 2005

Crazy

Why do these stupid computers keep thinking I am a girl? Aargh… Not that I’ve got anything against them, but they promised me many anime pictures and possibilities when I took their darned survey lorh… Sheesh…

Anyway... things can get sooooo crazy when you're not watching. And school is starting tomorrow...

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Have you ever taken a look at life and seen so much poetry; the hustle and bustle just rings a familiar soundtrack to this melodrama of life? Have you ever narrated to yourself moments of gold, which would have made perfect movie moments or better imprisoned on parchment; they pass, with one graceful stroke set your lyrical tongue ablaze with a thousand flavours, only to leave you forever like sand in the wind? Yeah, I get that quite a lot nowadays – and I’m quite happy about it, really.

How much more could I ask for? Well, there’s always…

If you can, take a listen to / read the lyrics of Jason Mraz’s song: You and I Both. I really like that stanza on words. (http://www.jasonmraz.com/music/lyrics.php?lid=you0a)

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Timing is everything. Especially so in some matters.

I hate myself sometimes: must have been one of those Freak-enstein-things that escaped from Spooklville or something… My mind was engineered for brilliance, but acquired an unfortunate taste for untimely dreams and crazy thoughts. You see, I do believe in dreams, though I dare not trust them with blind fate – how much truth can there be from a series of images that take you by storm in your sleep, when all you can do is really to toss and turn? Especially not a dream at a time like this; so much was revealed to me in so little. It scared me just a little bit after I thought about what it could mean.

Beautiful? Yup, it sure was. Beautiful and white.

Shocking? Hey, I didn’t dare expect something like this. Well, not of this form at least. Aww… common…

Revealing? If I only dare to hope. Expectations can be tricky, so very tricky.

If timing is everything, then I must be a frequent client of trouble. Damn that impatience. These images left an impression on my mind, but an even deeper impression on my soul as it revealed more than just a fantasy to me.

Wasn’t it Tracy Chapman who sang about conquering someone by saying the right words and the right time? I can only hope that I can dance when it comes my turn.

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Had a huge dose of sun, chalk and climbing after about more than a months’ absence from the scene. It feels good to be back among giants, even if you feel like a midget with a bad attitude. These events keep getting bigger and bigger every year. Climb On 05 had bigger walls and more dynamic routes than Climb On 04, and 04 had more than the year before. Frankly, I still prefer the experience that Climb On 04 provided – nothing beats a day out at the beach with a buncha friends, knowing that you’d have to stare at his ugly face as the sun baked yours, and getting a fix of chalk with a buncha international strangers. It was great.

Climb On 05, was, well, different. Perhaps this could be attributed to the fact that I was no longer an active participant. Behind the DJ console – that’s where I got my ass sun-burned for most of today. I must thank my brother for the timely arrow, for I finally had my suspicions confirmed – I DO sound like a Eurasian on the mic. Nevertheless, I tried to spin what music I could and make add a little fun via song dedications etc. It was fun, really, though a little unexpected.

Climbing had been my pre-occupation for almost 2 years now. Yet sometimes, I think I’m not really climbing. Just searching for myself among all that fiberglass and chalk. Don’t we all? Perhaps the one true time I really found myself among the rocks was in Railay, Thailand, on my pilgrimage of stone. Can’t hardly wait till the next time. In the meantime, it’s time to hit the gym again, and claim it as my home once more.

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I found myself in a quaint little bar over the last weekend. Frustrated from work and worn out by deadlines, I was only too glad to knock down a coupla beers and let loose my vocals to the roar of the live band. Ah, nothing like good old-fashioned rock-n-roll.

The very first thought that came to mind while I peered through my half-empty-third mug of beer was: where had all the cowboys gone? 57 Chevy, that’s the name of this bar. Indeed, the decorations was suitably themed to bring out a nostalgic flavour – a longing for the days of lone riders and cowboys, from gun-slingers to modern rebels-without-a-cause, there was plenty of room. No sleeze, no overt sexual connotations or skimpily-clad women, this bar reminded me of the good ol’ spaghettis, where middle-aged couples gathered to share drinks, implicit affection and unspoken romance. Ok, I shan’t overdo it. But I’m serious about the no-sleeze bit.

I saw several middle-aged couples dancing to the music. It was good – both the music and the dance. All of a sudden, my accumulated weariness of my age left me while their youth returned, both rejuvenated by the drum beats and guitar wails. The couple with me was one-half colleague and one-half colleague’s lady-friend, or so I was told. With such casual dignity, my colleague dismissed any teasing questions I had for him on our ride to the bar. They’re regulars at this place, much like the various middle-aged couples gathered here to find a little solace in some alcohol and memories.

It was then that I discovered that alcohol has a peculiar effect on me. My mind, although numbed to physical stimulations, is now more alive than ever to the communication of intuition. While this might be the beer talking, I prefer to let intoxication tingle my senses and tempt me with the poetry that runs through this place that is the bar and my soul.

Suddenly, I had the urge to write something. Something was trying to escape, desperately. What is poetry that is not shared? A monologue. And there have been so many… I only hope that these words can prolong or preserve these moments of gold – no matter how impermanent they really are. How ironic…

As I downed another mouthful of my bitter poetic remedy, I just couldn’t help but giggle to myself: here we go again.


JKLM

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