Stacey couldn't decide.
up down all around.
Focus on the middle ground!
Dreamers.
Women? lost in Jane Eyre.
Shit, where did he throw my underwear.
Make love not war
Free love in Singapore
Too aware.
Why must we compare?
Focus on the middle ground
Basic needs. Feed.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Sara's Strawberry Shortcake
If you're not interested in it, would you still do it and give it your all?
Yah okay, so i guess it does depend on lots of factors. Like for a start, what "it" is and hey, if "it" is even realistically do-able. So a certain level of practicality has infiltrated my luscious fiery veins of late. Sue the idle daydreams.
Not that there is anything wrong with that decadent candle-lit lined psychedelic rendition of an altar bed to lay on ala Dicaprio and Danes, modern day man has tickled Shakeaspeare.
okay but back to the point.
Say when all you smell is semi-dried laundry with a flash of carpet rash, is sheer will and determination enough to ride you through? Even in the moment a certain level of commitment is urged for the forces to allow the flowers to bloom.
Passion and Desire. Friends and Foes. Maybe secretly they conspire, willing us to find our own unique point of equilibrum. You really want it, but you don't do it. Then it fails to incite you, but you do it anyways.
Maybe the thrill at the end of the day is when you oddly find yourself curled fetal in between sheets of plain white cotton. At peace with all that you never thought you could have brought yourself to do and smiling in the humor of how much you hated it , yet somehow you still managed to bake your cake and icing layer it.
Yah okay, so i guess it does depend on lots of factors. Like for a start, what "it" is and hey, if "it" is even realistically do-able. So a certain level of practicality has infiltrated my luscious fiery veins of late. Sue the idle daydreams.
Not that there is anything wrong with that decadent candle-lit lined psychedelic rendition of an altar bed to lay on ala Dicaprio and Danes, modern day man has tickled Shakeaspeare.
okay but back to the point.
Say when all you smell is semi-dried laundry with a flash of carpet rash, is sheer will and determination enough to ride you through? Even in the moment a certain level of commitment is urged for the forces to allow the flowers to bloom.
Passion and Desire. Friends and Foes. Maybe secretly they conspire, willing us to find our own unique point of equilibrum. You really want it, but you don't do it. Then it fails to incite you, but you do it anyways.
Maybe the thrill at the end of the day is when you oddly find yourself curled fetal in between sheets of plain white cotton. At peace with all that you never thought you could have brought yourself to do and smiling in the humor of how much you hated it , yet somehow you still managed to bake your cake and icing layer it.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Share.Smile.Love.Hug.
Her strut not as purposeful as before. She smiles as she raises her black nylon pants to reveal the scars that run down both her knobby knees. The journey to her toes is an exponential of blue and black, dotted with shades of withering brown. Diabetes she exclaims in a tongue that remains foreign to her. When she was 20, she came from Fujian to Singapore. Roots of her expression still steeped in Hokkien.
Despite the roll of her words, I still feel like I understand. It's in her energetic hands, her ready smile and vivacious demeanour. It was not a life filled with grace and poise. A widows tale that starts at 31 and lingers at 80. The smile of a survivor, the energy of a child.
At 80? Years of living this life. Her pale grey eyes. Did I catch a twinkle? The curious case of Benjamin Button. Act like children to be treated like them. The cycles that inhabit our souls. Does wisdom peak or does it merely find a window of peaceful detachment and renewed joy? The bliss of ignorance or really the bliss is in the all-knowing.
Perhaps another 50 years to really understand. She smiles and celebrates my youth. Touches my face, stretches her arms to embrace. I wonder if I will ever get there. Each moment precious in the love we can share and give. Could you close tonight and not have to see tomorrow?
Whats on your Bucket List?
Despite the roll of her words, I still feel like I understand. It's in her energetic hands, her ready smile and vivacious demeanour. It was not a life filled with grace and poise. A widows tale that starts at 31 and lingers at 80. The smile of a survivor, the energy of a child.
At 80? Years of living this life. Her pale grey eyes. Did I catch a twinkle? The curious case of Benjamin Button. Act like children to be treated like them. The cycles that inhabit our souls. Does wisdom peak or does it merely find a window of peaceful detachment and renewed joy? The bliss of ignorance or really the bliss is in the all-knowing.
Perhaps another 50 years to really understand. She smiles and celebrates my youth. Touches my face, stretches her arms to embrace. I wonder if I will ever get there. Each moment precious in the love we can share and give. Could you close tonight and not have to see tomorrow?
Whats on your Bucket List?
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