It seems like a long time since my last post. A few things in mind, apart from the normal stuff like fellatio, and more fellatio, of course.
On my reading front, I am savouring some of Alvin Pang's poems from"Other Things and Other Poems" and having some good laughs at Yann Martel's at times roaringly humorous "Life of Pi".
In the End
the things we love give back
our names. One handed me a
plain stone to carve into something
better. Another returned the long
lost user guide to my left brain.
Someone passed a slip of paper,
my inscrutable handwriting
on one side, and on the other
in bright colours, the words
"I Want It All". Others brought
flowers - irises, daffodiles,
the soft unpeeled heart of a rose.
None of the clothes fit any longer.
I put aside the books I'd read,
and hadn't read, they took flight
as endless stairs, circling
beyond my years. But I loved
most of all the quiet Sundays, when fingers of rain
would write themselves
on the clear page of my window,
dying to tell me their stories.
- Alvin Pang
I must have mentioned before how a poem is like a words puzzle to me. The poet would put a mass of simple words together - some are of the most unlikely matches - and a new meaning, most original, is born. Poetry is all about figurative writing or speech, depending on how you see it - I have to constantly remind myself of this while reading.
Just attended "The Guinness Arthur's Day Concert" despite not being a drinker, but doubt anyone has been banned from the concert for not being there to celebrate such a special day. But Paul Wong was awesome. I mean really, really awesome:
Alright, now for the juicy portion: now, now, I am really, really disappointed in you as the star witness for the prosecution, Ms Cecilia Sue. Those SMS that you claimed to have sent by mistake have done you in, really. I think you are going down with your "lover", after going down on him. Oh, of course, you know who I am talking about