Blank Slate

sometimes i feel like a dead tree, with lots of fungi and ferns growing on me - appears to be brimming with life, with a myriad of colourful organisms and still standing tall...

but is in fact rotting

rotting from the inside.

i bought ukimono....

and love it.

merry christmas!

raining. i like.

http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2009/10/shipwreck/smith-text/1

an accidental misfortune could become a relic. perhaps events that are taking place now will have a great impact, even if we do not live to see it.

sick of having an unaufhörlich voice around me

all the time

sometimes i forget how long it took me to reach here. it's a long journey ahead, i could have walked faster, or slower, but i am here. and thus certain things happened the way they happened. the only thing i am certain of is that if i were to start all over again, i will not have the patience redo everything i have done. i cannot say that i am contented, or discontented - i have done things that i have wanted to do and things that i have never dreamt of doing, yet there are a couple of unfinished businesses. but somehow, it doesn't matter - what i have accomplished and what i have not. human wants are insatiable. an occasional enlightening experience is essential for constant living. that is, if i was constantly living.

feeling dead and decomposed.

like carrying a dead foetus in me. except the dead foetus is actually my soul.

the lyrics:

Early one morning, just as the sun was rising
I heard a maid sing in the valley below
"Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me,
How could you use, a poor maiden so?"

Remember the vows that you made to me truly
Remember how tenderly you nestled close to me
Gay is the garland, fresh are the roses
I've culled from the garden to bind over thee.

Here I now wander alone as I wonder
Why did you leave me to sigh and complain
I ask of the roses, why should I be forsaken,
Why must I here in sorrow remain?

Through yonder grove, by the spring that is running
There you and I have so merrily played,
Kissing and courting and gently sporting
Oh, my innocent heart you've betrayed

How could you slight so a pretty girl who loves you
A pretty girl who loves you so dearly and warm?
Though love's folly is surely but a fancy,
Still it should prove to me sweeter than your scorn.

Soon you will meet with another pretty maiden
Some pretty maiden, you'll court her for a while;
Thus ever ranging, turning and changing
Always seeking for a girl that is new.

Thus sang the maiden, her sorrows bewailing
Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below
"Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me,
How could you use, a poor maiden so?"




******************************************************

i find it amusing that the tune is used for grade 1 exam. should i explain that this is not really a happy-happy-rise-and-shine song, but rather, a 'good morning, cruel reality' ditty? lol. i guess if they loath waking early in the morning, they should get it?

feeling a need to talk less...
to not talk at all

is it just me, or does anyone else think baygon actually smells nice?

i have this habit - i'll say it's a habit because i do it at least once a week - of imagining my own death and thinking of what i really want to do in the last few minutes/hours of my life in this world.

so often i realised, that the only thing that makes me reluctant to leave is the silent disapproval in my room. my greatest fear is that no one will feed him fresh veggie every night, take him to the vet when he bleeds, give him space to run (and hump), pet on his head before sleep, etc... if i am gone, can someone take care of my rabbit? you can have everything that i own (albeit not a lot).

i dreamt someone wring my neck last night, maybe this one is going to come true.

everything can be simple.

everything can be simple and unadulterated.

everything can be adulterated.

everything is corrupted.

but everything is simple if you had believed the first statement.

utterly worn out and torn,
why do you have to look at my eyes - yes i forgot my medication i know!

the imaginary la...

jiu ming ahh....

surprisingly, the mere act of striking a few notes drove away a fortnight of darkness. the hardest thing to do is to pick up the bag, unzip it and retrieve the content. if i manage to do that, anything else seems less strenuous.

even breathing seems easier.

and people seem less irritating.

perhaps i'm hallucinating everything, including the part about people being less irritating.

誓 言 幻 作 煙 雲 字
費 盡 千 般 心 思
情 像 火 灼 般 熱
怎 燒 一 生 一 世
延 續 不 容 易

負 情 是 我 的 名 字
錯 付 千 般 相 思
情 像 水 向 東 逝 去
痴 心 枉 傾 注
願 那 天 未 曾 遇

只 盼 相 依
那 管 見 盡 遺 憾 世 事
漸 老 芳 華
愛 火 未 滅 人 面 變 異

祈 求 在 那 天 重 遇
訴 盡 千 般 相 思
祈 望 不 再 辜 負 你
痴 心 的 關 注
人 被 愛 留 住
問 那 天 會 重 遇

orchard road on a saturday afternoon:





P/S: no offence to penguins. i think you are incredibly amazing animals.

i am an idiot, who hates being treated like one.

essentially it's just me vs me.

love the opera teacher!

i don't like it at all

sometimes 1 plus 1 doesn't get 2

在冰冷的人間找到取暖的溫室

但又親手把它給拆毀

hate it when my phone rings, especially when the number starts with 6.

foresee something terrible conjuring - nothing mystical, mere rational evaluation.

can't do anything; let anything do me then.

hate small talk with irrelevant people, or any people for that matter.

am trying to survive.

slowly.