north-american possums! work fatigue grouses; singaporean; ex-poet and writer; former convent girl; converted, convicted and painfully quiet; bibliophilic; skyscrapers; weather-talk; dining alone on sashimi; your life with Jesus; banging heads with problems; looking from afar; loving my xiongmao; peanuts & anchovies; battlestar galatica; novella dreams and paranoai: holding onto you.


May 2002

June 2002

July 2002

August 2002

September 2002

October 2002

November 2002

December 2002

January 2003

February 2003

March 2003

April 2003

May 2003

July 2003

August 2003

September 2003

October 2003

November 2003

December 2003

January 2004

February 2004

March 2004

April 2004

May 2004

June 2004

July 2004

August 2004

September 2004

October 2004

November 2004

December 2004

January 2005

February 2005

March 2005

April 2005

May 2005

June 2005

July 2005

August 2005

September 2005

October 2005

November 2005

December 2005

January 2006

February 2006

March 2006

April 2006

May 2006

June 2006

July 2006

August 2006

October 2006

November 2006

December 2006

January 2007

February 2007

September 2007




Tell me when this blog is updated

what is this?





Tuesday, September 30, 2003

oops. the handphone bill came in and my dad lectured me about the 70 bucks. i just kept quiet, grunted my replies of regret and slurped at my porridge. the porridge was awesome. Mum had fried the pork and she slipped the gravy into the soup that made it so delicious, the rice soaked up all that goodness and i'm just in bliss over porridge. whenever my parents nag, i really truly have the desire to get things right the next time because i can't stand the nagging. it's as simple as that. But not that simple when i was younger as most of the time i'll be shouting and ranting at the top of my voice, trying in vain to drown out the cacophony. haha. looking back it must have been really hilarious.

anyway i'm reading cyril wong's works, looking for things to think and write for my thesis. i think they are pretty amazing. yes, but only those from "the end of the orbit". there things are not too prosaic; sometimes having an ironic element and lots of tension. when i read other poet's works, i am often tempted to reflect a little on what i have ever written. it's often that i feel ashame of what i write and dare call poetry. seems as if i'm stuck on some level of dante's hell, never able to transcend the bondages of the mind to write things as they are but not quite.

perhaps if i book myself on a flight to some idyllic island where there is a coffee machine on standby, japanese tea in the cupboard and bbq seafood everynight. ahhh... :) i can't seem to figure out whether i'm in love with the words or with the life. Or whether these are the things that make up my particular level in hell. very pathetic...

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

 

a little pilotfly is a powerful thing
tribolum
quarlo
wired fiction
motel 6
power of the
living God

sheta
cornerstone
bible gateway
ben israel
christian classics
ethereal library

pinky's mum
ramblings
merriam webster
what i cooked last night
Katy's World: Randomly life



krunchypeanuts...once u pop u can't stop...daily trivia with a dose of social responsibility...a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...let's say we try...oh Lord how we try...