mind the gap
talking to a future literature phd holder (tutor) for ten minutes has shed more light on how i should structure my shakespeare essay than ten hours of head-banging and re-reading on my own.
and that, is how wide the chasm is.
the california sun cascaded on my face
i feel at times like i’m just being swept along, like dried leaves after autumn. these are the ones who paint the walkways at the park a bright pastel orange, the type that could manage a little twirly dance when the wind blows and imitate a mini tornado, showing some strength no matter how miniscule this strength might be.
but then some guy, maybe with lover in tow, maybe not, might come along and nonchalantly step on those leaves as he passes by. and he(they) is(are) only passing by. but those leaves will emit nice crunching sounds, not unlike the biting of good potato chips. it’s a harmonious sound. it’s a cacophony of destruction.
i’d rather be that guy. not the other guy.
quote of the (past few) day(s)
“when life gives you lehmans, make lehmanade.”
oh my bandit queen
as the sun is sinking low
and the evening’s tucked in tow
on the horizon, my true love I see.
she ain’t fancy, she ain’t fine
while her fingers number only nine
she’s the belle of the ball of the insurgency.
she’s my Bandit Queen, lain beneath the moon
in a bandit cave, a blanket laid for two
if I could find a way to your hideaway by the sea
o’ Bandit Queen, steal away to me.
somewhere on a mountain, by a starry water fountain
in an alcove hid by some trees
amidst a pile of treasure, reclining at her leisure,
my ladylove sniffs as the breeze.
and sitting up, she adjusts her turban
and takes another swig from a bottle of bourbon
and listening to the whistling of a train at station
odds are it will never reach its destination.
’cause the Bandit Queen, astride her steed will ride
o’ let me be the on to lay within your theivin’ arms tonight.
she’s my Bandit Queen, lain beneath the moon
in a bandit cave, there’s a blanket laid for two
if I could find a way to your hideaway by the sea
o’ Bandit Queen, steal away to me.
bridge breached
it was never gonna last forever, that long unbeaten home record. i thought it a monkey off our backs now that its broken. there had to be at least some unnecessary pressure on chelsea playing at home with that record to defend.
but to surrender it so meekly is frankly very disappointing.
——————————————————————————-
looking on the bright side, it’s been a long and proud run. we’ve taken it from liverpool themselves, and then beat it by almost a full season of games. 86, EIGHTY-SIX games, in the most competitive and best league in the world, in a time spanning four managers (ranieri, mourinho, grant and scolari). it is an amazing record, and very likely never to be beaten again. and i can tell my grandson i’ve seen almost all of the 86 games.
so, carefree!
political excess hits new heights
sarahhhh palin spends US$150,000 of donor-contributed campaign funds on designer clothes! $75,062 at neiman marcus and $49,425 at saks fifth avenue, to be exact.
“i don’t think joe the plumber wears manolo blahniks”
i’m not coming out until this is all over
i feel a random surge of joy from all the love from all the peeps and the little can of coke light. you know who you are!
for english, press 1.
besides all the essays that i’m struggling to complete and all the readings that i haven’t even attempted reading and exams and chasing caps and getting degrees and doctorates and chasing cars and running after money and more money and yet more money and being successful and being a winner and climbing the corporate ladder and accumulating more money,
i think the world needs a little bit more beauty.
thought of the day
how long would you take to walk around the world?
and, who would do it with you?
sigh.
i must tell myself to stop having these thoughts of infinite aspiration. cause today has just proven the point.
plus, i’ve never ever been special at any single thing in my life anyway. “not bad” at this, “not bad” at that. so i need to tell myself, that “not bad” is good enough.
come on, come on.
the past week and a half has gone by at manic speed. i heard the sound of deadlines and tests roar by, i’ve had results and essays thrown back at me, i’ve partied hard and drank hard and studied hard and before i could catch my breath there’s only a month or thereabouts left to the finals.
i recall the genuine joy at picking apart shakespearean texts. and i had the same feeling again last night. not that i could afford not to care about all my other modules, but i only dearly want lit to give as much loving back to me.
…All of our waste which we dumped on her and which she absorbed. And all of our beauty, which was hers first and which she gave to us. All of us – all who knew her – felt so wholesome after we cleaned ourselves on her. We were so beautiful when we stood astride her ugliness. Her simplicity decorated us, her guilt sanctified us, her pain made us glow with health, her awkwardness made us think we had a sense of humor. Her inarticulateness made us believe we were eloquent. her poverty kept us generous. Even her waking dreams we used – to silence our own nightmares. And she let us, and thereby deserved our contempt. We honed our egos on her, padded our characters with her frailty, and yawned in the fantasy of our strength.”
i heard a rumour
sheltered, from the first morning rays that would bring to light my inadequate existence, i felt myself feeling my way around, and seeing ever so clearly in the dim rooms rudely interrupted by strobe lights and street lights intermittently. it was not that i was a changed person, nor was it the first time, but just knowing that knowing love by its a familiar first name had been far too treacherous. but i made no protest, and heard those tales strike a discordant note with me. it was to be too much for the night, except that it wasn’t. for i had to have sea salt rubbed onto my cauterising wound.
thinking back to when the music was the intoxication and alcohol a convenient social lubricant, i had nothing, and despite that i wanted it enough to not know what to do.
we’re all in this together
we’re all in this together,
and we know that we are
we’re all stars, and we see that,
we’re all in this together,
and it shows, when we stand
hand in hand
make our dreams come true.
may any supernatural being bless me and all my friends for yee lang one one oh one midterms.
the same lines again…
Anomie, then, is the peculiar disease of modern industrial man, for it is accepted as ‘normal, a mark of moral distinction, it being everlastingly repeated that it is man’s nature to be eternally dissatisfied, constantly to advance, without relief or rest, towards an indefinite goal‘.
- Downes and Rock
A minute holds them, who have come to go:
The self-denied, astride the created will.
They burst away; the towns they travel through
Are home for neither birds nor holiness,
For birds and saints complete their purposes.
At worst, one is in motion; and at best,
Reaching no absolute, in which to rest,
One is always nearer by not keeping still.
- Thom Gunn
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