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crouch like a crow
Nov. 27th, 2011 06:50 amIt is in the soporific haze of the early morning that you glimpse the magick of the mundane. Your eyelids weighed down by the desire to close them, your eyes glazed with the luminescence of a million pixels, your mind engorged on the buffet of colours and movements. Blink. The world that appears is a world that conjures the corporeality of hopes and dreams. Inhale. Exhale. Emotions surge into the lungs, the aortas, the reticulated network of vessels and veins. A hulking and undifferentiated mass of a mess. It barrages through the channels, making its presence known like a swaggering overlord. It claims priority; it demands superiority. And in these bleary hours, certainty is certainly something that you desire and cherish. Certainty that your day has not been a waste of time; your month, your year, your decade, your life has not been a waste of time. Certainty that your future will not be a waste of time. Certainty that you are exactly who you are in where you need to be. And in these dreary hours, you give yourself a discount by conflating lived necessities with actualized aspirations. Things are going well, the best that they possibly can, given what you have. You smile. :) Then, the song stops. In the lull between two aural worlds, the one that you had painted with firm brushstrokes disappears. Things accelerate in reverse motion. The certainty curls into itself, the emotions recedes and swirls into a drainpipe on the floor of your imagination. Blink. You are yawning, you have a final in a day's time, you are slouching against a makeshift fortress of pillows with a laptop burning up your thighs. Bleargh. But that's okay, because you will soon sleep and have the sun do the smiling for you. And you will be soothed by the stable dreams you will have later.
( PressPausePlay )
light the wick
Nov. 7th, 2011 05:05 amIt was a noisy night, just the way that I had remembered it. There was a palpable boisterousness in the atmosphere. Such days were a dime a dozen before, but when it happens now, it sure is worth its weight in gold. Because when you grow up, you grow taller and begin to see the tens and hundreds of paths sprawling away from your little cottage-house, like lava trails flanking the sunken caldera. You realise how fortuitous it was to be incarnated in this very time, this very place. Maybe it is the internalisation of PAP's policies that posit families as the building blocks of society (that readings love to critique as manipulations by our paternalistic state blah blah), but such nights were meant to be carefully folded in lily-scented handkerchiefs, to be unwrapped and sighed over when the night-time blues swashes in. Prior annoyances at forgoing a nice dinner with a subsequent karaoke session (my only ticket to late nights out, the blasphemy!) quickly dissipated, when it was three of us at the dining table, making fun of each other and comparing the sizes of our bloated bellies. Reigning champion speaking, thank ayou very amuchy. Then, the brother and the parents crowded around, drawn by the hub-bub. We moved on to Catherine, the crazily difficult and mentally exhausting game that Gus loves to play. Efforts at sabotaging, pulling blocks here, cat-fights between the characters there, ostentatious celebrating inyerface everywhere, outsmarting sometimes, doing stupid things other times- it is always nice to laugh to tears and have your stomach hurt and cheeks ache from mirthful vibrations. Moved on to watching shows after, and hence, complementary snacking habits + synchronised swooning over Blaine from Glee + musing about Phil resembling somebody that we know. The sun nearly rose by the time we slept, but anything for old times right? Sunday afternoon, that was when things settled back into its well-worn pattern, so adieu adieu, and tucking away of the hanky into the corner of the warmest pillow. It will be another two months? Hmm. I wonder how next year is going to pan out.
( all the seasons start to run )
