I am the moth.
framed in eternal rest upon a bed of velvet;
Glass case - with immortality's shackles at my torso, divinity at my abdomen-
and human polish on my exoskeleton
under the sharp gasp,
of a pin of 8 A1s.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Danceworks
Danceworks. It is interesting how quickly one's perception changes before and after a performance. I still remember how i had first cringed at the thought of an anti-drug cheer competition (like, isn't that more for the less jaded primary and lower secondary school students who absorb government propaganda like sponges? ). How i had scorned the immaturtiy of the cheer lyrics; "Winners, that's what we are, pledge our souls to play this role.", having sold mine to the darker side of language - and life. And - the part that I am most embarrassed about- how I had wrinkled my nose at the apparent lack of quality of the choreography and its doers, quality here being the extent of similarity between the subject of scrutiny and the cheerleading I used to do in rg.
The hours I wasted struggling with the notion of whether or not to quit, the fluctuations in my mood resulting in inane quarrels with the wrong people, the little nagging feeling of how everything would have been different IF I had chosen RJ, the passionate wishing that I could go back to RG and bask again in that intoxicating feeling of authority. Here, where I am better seen and not heard, where opinions that threaten to leap out of my mouth are forcibly pushed back into my throat; here indeed, seemed close to hell these few days.
Thankfully, I have learnt my lesson. Danceworks wasn't that bad or embarrassing, in fact, i wouldn't mind doing it again, even without me being the one shouting "5-6-7-8!"
The hours I wasted struggling with the notion of whether or not to quit, the fluctuations in my mood resulting in inane quarrels with the wrong people, the little nagging feeling of how everything would have been different IF I had chosen RJ, the passionate wishing that I could go back to RG and bask again in that intoxicating feeling of authority. Here, where I am better seen and not heard, where opinions that threaten to leap out of my mouth are forcibly pushed back into my throat; here indeed, seemed close to hell these few days.
Thankfully, I have learnt my lesson. Danceworks wasn't that bad or embarrassing, in fact, i wouldn't mind doing it again, even without me being the one shouting "5-6-7-8!"
Thursday, February 24, 2005
The falcon
(tyger in the sky)
On very many a dewful morn,
he stalks the golden ray
beneath his claws a shadow born
falls oft upon his prey.
While all on whom this darkness meet,
Deigned by nature's law to scatter.
Beasts of youth, in wonder bleat,
"What's he that doth come hither?"
Withering eyes of a distant cold,
Dribbling ruby red,
Behind his feathered mask behold,
that craft the living dead.
Resculpturing the hooked beak
in eve of need so dire,
while in his breath the carcasses reek
upon a tribal fire.
Till meek and mere, in spite of fear
of loki's secret vice.
The falcon's wings a grisly smear,
snuffed out the light. entice.
On very many a dewful morn,
he stalks the golden ray
beneath his claws a shadow born
falls oft upon his prey.
While all on whom this darkness meet,
Deigned by nature's law to scatter.
Beasts of youth, in wonder bleat,
"What's he that doth come hither?"
Withering eyes of a distant cold,
Dribbling ruby red,
Behind his feathered mask behold,
that craft the living dead.
Resculpturing the hooked beak
in eve of need so dire,
while in his breath the carcasses reek
upon a tribal fire.
Till meek and mere, in spite of fear
of loki's secret vice.
The falcon's wings a grisly smear,
snuffed out the light. entice.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
My little GREY book
I can't differentiate between humour and insult, so I am giving you the benefit of a doubt.
Though grey's a little closer to white, so black are these, words that i write.
Though grey's a little closer to white, so black are these, words that i write.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Three's a crowd
We are seated at a table of three
languishing, O delightful company!
A three of me and you and him,
Playing a game of sweet coquetry.
And so we are in a table of three.
Wrapped in our own little revery.
Entwined in Eros' mane you'll be
Before a scree; my hand; catch me.
Alas! We are a table of three,
Where give and take's felicity,
So do you take, and give some more,
Give me the boot, your love's - the law.
(This is the kind of crap i write during LEP, oh well, so now you know how good my chinese is. Yeah.)
languishing, O delightful company!
A three of me and you and him,
Playing a game of sweet coquetry.
And so we are in a table of three.
Wrapped in our own little revery.
Entwined in Eros' mane you'll be
Before a scree; my hand; catch me.
Alas! We are a table of three,
Where give and take's felicity,
So do you take, and give some more,
Give me the boot, your love's - the law.
(This is the kind of crap i write during LEP, oh well, so now you know how good my chinese is. Yeah.)
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Yellow city 05. eh hur fever
我要唱一首道具的歌
我要唱一首道具的歌 一首很累的歌
唱出我们的换场 唱出我们的辛酸
我要唱一首道具的歌 一首很晚的歌
这里有道具组在吃饭 那里是演员正回家
道具哟 eh hur 我们的道具 eh hur
weekuan liting eh hur 还有jiayi eh hur
道具哟 道具! 我们的 eh hur eh hur eh hur
肩负重任 二十个人
我要唱一首道具的歌 一首永远的歌
在这如同梦般的黄城 唯有道具最精神!
我要唱一首道具的歌 一首很累的歌
唱出我们的换场 唱出我们的辛酸
我要唱一首道具的歌 一首很晚的歌
这里有道具组在吃饭 那里是演员正回家
道具哟 eh hur 我们的道具 eh hur
weekuan liting eh hur 还有jiayi eh hur
道具哟 道具! 我们的 eh hur eh hur eh hur
肩负重任 二十个人
我要唱一首道具的歌 一首永远的歌
在这如同梦般的黄城 唯有道具最精神!
Being Archy
(i think i am getting overly-attached to hc...)
'He who bends himself to a joy, does the winged life destroy, but he who kisses the joy as it flies, lives in eternity's sunrise. ' - William Blake
___
i am the moth.
living the winged life and breathing the sacred air; flitting about in the sanctified wind as it whips past one more, soothing singed wings loathed to flail, defeated by uncertainty.
death sees my reflection in his flames, and I his deadly sickle.
we wrestle for supremacy - caught in snares of thought that feed the fire of consumption
So it must be.The moment when wings crumble into soot.
to be the holocaust,
despite the third reich and the prey,
celebrating life in the blazing inferno-
once and always?
the promise of eternity, fragile, as dust perching on fingers.
'He who bends himself to a joy, does the winged life destroy, but he who kisses the joy as it flies, lives in eternity's sunrise. ' - William Blake
___
i am the moth.
living the winged life and breathing the sacred air; flitting about in the sanctified wind as it whips past one more, soothing singed wings loathed to flail, defeated by uncertainty.
death sees my reflection in his flames, and I his deadly sickle.
we wrestle for supremacy - caught in snares of thought that feed the fire of consumption
So it must be.The moment when wings crumble into soot.
to be the holocaust,
despite the third reich and the prey,
celebrating life in the blazing inferno-
once and always?
the promise of eternity, fragile, as dust perching on fingers.
Friday, February 18, 2005
One down, three more to go
Econs' wasn't as bad as i thought. I was ranked 15 along with three or four other people, which doesn't seem like much, but considering that i was entertaining nightmares of being the 51st in class, it's still good news. :) Irritating gabriel, who claimed that he didn't study (for the sake of our already deflated ego, lets hope he is a big fat liar.) got 43/50 and was ranked 3rd in the cohort along with Amelia.
Oh well, what can I say? To heck with them mercernaries; and all grapes that taste sour.xP
Oh well, what can I say? To heck with them mercernaries; and all grapes that taste sour.xP
Sunday, February 13, 2005
For Eros' Arrow
we have seen it all
bulbous balloons, gloating -
resplendent in an error
my bio teacher would scoff at.
coffeed chocolates, baked in a batch,
whose lifespan is dictated by
factory ink under its cell.
every flower is checked and
vetoed by friends, who wax,
over the romance they never had.
lyrical. dedications that fall
like peacock feathers,
masquerade as cupid's wings.
the bell rings.
morning dawns on a myriad of faces
eagerly waiting till dusk.
bulbous balloons, gloating -
resplendent in an error
my bio teacher would scoff at.
coffeed chocolates, baked in a batch,
whose lifespan is dictated by
factory ink under its cell.
every flower is checked and
vetoed by friends, who wax,
over the romance they never had.
lyrical. dedications that fall
like peacock feathers,
masquerade as cupid's wings.
the bell rings.
morning dawns on a myriad of faces
eagerly waiting till dusk.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Chinese New Year
Chinese New Year is a mere good excuse to gluttony which otherwise would be criticised on any other normal day, during which any self-respecting host would play the part of the eager salesman, claiming that THEIR new year goodies were better than anybody else's and confirming the exquisiteness of its taste, even though the container containing the goodies may still be tightly bound in scotch tape. Price and other factors come into play in this game of advertising, from the "eat-it-and-you-will-get-a-lover" to the more direct "eat! eat!" to the "I bought this for (some extravagant amt) so you must eat".
Pot bellies rejoice. Yay.
Pot bellies rejoice. Yay.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Phone-ethics
I am currently a proud owner of the new Nokia 'Distinctly Bold' model. Yay. It has a camera that allows me to practise voyeurism anytime I wish. Ok, this is not exactly blog-worthy. But i am too busy being narcissistic to care. :)
Snap Snap.
Snap Snap.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Taking a few steps back...
I was randomly surfing the net when I came across Huiru's blog and realised how sad I was when I had to copy and paste gym photos from there, having possessed none myself. (My camera being always deprived of film.) They are dated more than a year back, but given my reputation for tardiness, I guess its still okay to post them up here....I will just take it that I am revisiting those memories.xP And so here they are, photos from Gym Com 2003...
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Flips and Fouettes
I didn't get into SYF.
Okay, I admit I am rather disappointed, but maybe its a good wakeup call. I mean all through upper secondary it has always been me giving the audition and not the other way round. I guess its about time to shed some of that cheer capt arrogance and for once, to assess my dancing ability without all the frills and fancies that tend to distract the audience from the real thing. The distractions being the stunts that come from four years in artistic gymnastics.
Opinions may vary, but from experience I know that most people would choose to watch a back somer over a graceful balletic pose anyday. Face it, flips are more exciting than plies and grand jetes and whatever not. They challenge the limits of the human body and thats what makes them so interesting to watch, it is rare that anyone who watches a gravity-defying triple twist would remain unimpressed, just as it is improbable that someone who listens to a GOOD opera singer be totally unmoved by the amazing capacity of the singer's thoraic cavity. (I did study bio. :)) Of course, one may argue that the extreme grace of the ballet dancer could also leave one similarly awed, yet lets be realistic, how many prima ballerinas are there in Singapore, as compared to the number of people who can do flips and somers? It takes more than the common dancer to inspire the audience (and even then the audience must know how to appreciate the art) yet a simple backwalkover can illict the immediate admiration of any man-on-the-street, with significantly less effort. There is something about gym that brings about a spontaneous, almost instinctive response within people that is regardless of age, gender, tastes and educational level. You don't need to be a gymnast to know when a person is testing human limits, neither do you need any background in order to appreciate the beauty of a back layout.
And so I plead guilty. Guilty of capitalising on this aspect of human nature, guilty of pandering to the masses during the choreography of cheerleading dances, guilty of the many bruised knees and shoulders that result from this risky venture. And most of all, guilty of deliberately confusing the word 'dance' with 'stunt' and in so doing undeservingly assume the coveted role of captain.
The punishment? Two years of inconsequential existence in Hwa Chong's MAD.
Okay, I admit I am rather disappointed, but maybe its a good wakeup call. I mean all through upper secondary it has always been me giving the audition and not the other way round. I guess its about time to shed some of that cheer capt arrogance and for once, to assess my dancing ability without all the frills and fancies that tend to distract the audience from the real thing. The distractions being the stunts that come from four years in artistic gymnastics.
Opinions may vary, but from experience I know that most people would choose to watch a back somer over a graceful balletic pose anyday. Face it, flips are more exciting than plies and grand jetes and whatever not. They challenge the limits of the human body and thats what makes them so interesting to watch, it is rare that anyone who watches a gravity-defying triple twist would remain unimpressed, just as it is improbable that someone who listens to a GOOD opera singer be totally unmoved by the amazing capacity of the singer's thoraic cavity. (I did study bio. :)) Of course, one may argue that the extreme grace of the ballet dancer could also leave one similarly awed, yet lets be realistic, how many prima ballerinas are there in Singapore, as compared to the number of people who can do flips and somers? It takes more than the common dancer to inspire the audience (and even then the audience must know how to appreciate the art) yet a simple backwalkover can illict the immediate admiration of any man-on-the-street, with significantly less effort. There is something about gym that brings about a spontaneous, almost instinctive response within people that is regardless of age, gender, tastes and educational level. You don't need to be a gymnast to know when a person is testing human limits, neither do you need any background in order to appreciate the beauty of a back layout.
And so I plead guilty. Guilty of capitalising on this aspect of human nature, guilty of pandering to the masses during the choreography of cheerleading dances, guilty of the many bruised knees and shoulders that result from this risky venture. And most of all, guilty of deliberately confusing the word 'dance' with 'stunt' and in so doing undeservingly assume the coveted role of captain.
The punishment? Two years of inconsequential existence in Hwa Chong's MAD.
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