went for a friend's birthday party last week.
its kinda one of those gigs i was afraid I'd have to take a book to. where the guys would say.."oh you like Hendrix..purple haze" and then give you an all knowing nod.
and the girls would treat you like an outcast for for not knowing that Justin timberlake broke up with Cameron Diaz.
Oh the horror!!!
but i didn't turn out all that bad..the girls still kept away, but the guys were OK, though one still asked .."oh Jimi Hendrix..I've herd of him i think!" fou cornichon!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
tryst with the devil
A simple day.
I got up to the imperfect tunes of Joanne’s flute, today was Rag Yaman day. The calming sounds, like those of a cool sea breeze blowing through a grove of coconut trees. Hypnotically I rise and go to get the foul smell of yesterday’s chicken curry out of my mouth.
My mornings, at home, are terribly monotonous…. So, as is my habit, I dress and leave after slurping down a hot mug of black coffee, ignoring the article on the ill effects of caffeine on the body, mum has carefully stuck to the fridge.
Hard as I try I can never get the coffee to taste like the kind made on the college campus. Simple Nescafe, simple pleasure.
Come rain or scorching heat one can always find me next to the druid that creates for me this morning time elixir.
It starts with a nod to man at the machine, as I give him the coupon, which like a password takes me to a land of such intimate bliss. A moment’s wait and I have in my hands the day, the life I must drink to survive the turmoil I have soon to face. (Independence wars, demand curves, delinquents, and dowry deaths.)
I hold the plastic mug in my hands, inhaling the hypnotically swirling steam that rises from the surface of the liquid, calling out to me, making me yearn to put the cup to my lips and find solace in the fact that the coffee machine-stand is nailed to the floor of the canteen.
I wait impatiently for the liquid to cool, so as to reach that state of ecstasy, but as always it decides to make me wait, to pine for it so much I would readily steak my tongue for its flavour, but I cannot today. My tongue still is raw from yesterday’s burns. So I wait. Ohh! how time plays me like a mandolin. And then as I see that last wisp of steam leave the cup, signalling my jail time over I raise it to my eager lips, to drink and be content, when some delinquent fool chances to bang into me, causing my shirt to stain and more importantly my cup to fall. I watch as if hoping that time will stand still and let me save the cup before it hit’s the ground. But I remind my self that the matrix is just a movie. Fate was not kind enough to favour me and the coffee spilt. The death of a day.
I got up to the imperfect tunes of Joanne’s flute, today was Rag Yaman day. The calming sounds, like those of a cool sea breeze blowing through a grove of coconut trees. Hypnotically I rise and go to get the foul smell of yesterday’s chicken curry out of my mouth.
My mornings, at home, are terribly monotonous…. So, as is my habit, I dress and leave after slurping down a hot mug of black coffee, ignoring the article on the ill effects of caffeine on the body, mum has carefully stuck to the fridge.
Hard as I try I can never get the coffee to taste like the kind made on the college campus. Simple Nescafe, simple pleasure.
Come rain or scorching heat one can always find me next to the druid that creates for me this morning time elixir.
It starts with a nod to man at the machine, as I give him the coupon, which like a password takes me to a land of such intimate bliss. A moment’s wait and I have in my hands the day, the life I must drink to survive the turmoil I have soon to face. (Independence wars, demand curves, delinquents, and dowry deaths.)
I hold the plastic mug in my hands, inhaling the hypnotically swirling steam that rises from the surface of the liquid, calling out to me, making me yearn to put the cup to my lips and find solace in the fact that the coffee machine-stand is nailed to the floor of the canteen.
I wait impatiently for the liquid to cool, so as to reach that state of ecstasy, but as always it decides to make me wait, to pine for it so much I would readily steak my tongue for its flavour, but I cannot today. My tongue still is raw from yesterday’s burns. So I wait. Ohh! how time plays me like a mandolin. And then as I see that last wisp of steam leave the cup, signalling my jail time over I raise it to my eager lips, to drink and be content, when some delinquent fool chances to bang into me, causing my shirt to stain and more importantly my cup to fall. I watch as if hoping that time will stand still and let me save the cup before it hit’s the ground. But I remind my self that the matrix is just a movie. Fate was not kind enough to favour me and the coffee spilt. The death of a day.
who shot santa
WHO SHOT SANTA- Lara jingle Rebello
The day before Christmas,
While the malls were all full
And the kids were out playing
All decked up in wool
Mr. Santa, had put on his suit
Brushed out his beard
And strapped up his boot
And the elves sang out gaily
They wrapped up the toys
That Santa would give
To good girls and good boys
But not far away
Outside Santa land
Sat the evil old grinch
With his notorious band
With ruffkin and spuggy
And crapka and goot
They awaited Santa
Who the grinch would then SHOOT!
So when night came Santa got whacked
The gifts were all stolen
And no suspects were tracked
So no toys went out
And the children all cried
Just for their gifts
Not for Santa who died!
The day before Christmas,
While the malls were all full
And the kids were out playing
All decked up in wool
Mr. Santa, had put on his suit
Brushed out his beard
And strapped up his boot
And the elves sang out gaily
They wrapped up the toys
That Santa would give
To good girls and good boys
But not far away
Outside Santa land
Sat the evil old grinch
With his notorious band
With ruffkin and spuggy
And crapka and goot
They awaited Santa
Who the grinch would then SHOOT!
So when night came Santa got whacked
The gifts were all stolen
And no suspects were tracked
So no toys went out
And the children all cried
Just for their gifts
Not for Santa who died!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
rain is falling chama cham cham!
rain is one of the most beautiful dogs I've seen...alright i might be exaggerating a wee bit but what can i do i love my dog so very much. living with me for two years i cant stand a day without her and sometimes even when I'm delayed somewhere i miss taking her out for her night walk. they say dogs are like their masters...i don't know whether that's true in most cases but i think my dog and i are very much alike. we love to eat sleep watch stupid things in action..we even like playing with ants. by the way rain's a golden retriever, i don't think completely purebred..i bet some where along the way mum or dad had been unfaithful. she's too small for a typical retriever. but then again i don't really care about her purity..I'm quite sure anyway that one of her parents was Satan's dog. rain her self is pretty much the spawn of something vile and demonic. the number of times she has taken away and eaten, socks, shoes, money, cheques, deodorants, and once even a whole coconut is proof enough that she isn't one those angelic little pups they show on TV.
mum's been trying to get her thrown out, but after much drama from dog and me, she bends!
i don't know what i love most about her, whether it's he fact that she readily eats my food when i cant finish(most often she finishes it before e i can eat) or how she comes and rests on my legs looking at me through her huge watery eyes. not sure of what exactly it may be, i know i love my dog more than anything in the world...
PS. there's no use loving anything else cos rain might probably eat it anyway!!
Sunday, July 22, 2007
kiconoxuation.
dreams aren't ever to be studied in the literal form. hoggwoggit if they were ever to mean what they showed. all through out I've had a record of the most ghastly dreams, though once in a while my subconscious allows for a little comedy. last week a friend called asking me to evaluate his dream. an accident that scared his face out of recognition. what could i say...the change of face could symbolize a change of personality.? or that the accident would actually happen cos id curse him for bugging me with such complete nonsense?!!
but personally anyway my dreams have always been reflections of my feelings as well as predictions of the future. (i should know, i have the gift of prophecy)
of all my dreams i most distinctly remember the one about my sister.
noela, my younger sister is the complete reverse of me. though a year apart she bosses me around to the extent that I'm now prepared for the world of business.
getting back to my dream though....
i think it was around 14 years ago, we were both on our way to school, in matching red and white checked dresses and color co-ordinated nickers. i think we were late because i till today remember the sense of urgency to get through the gates and into class.
on our way though we met the most outrageously amazing looking air balloon with a wicker basket and tingly music playing. noela along with a bunch of others, so ignorant to the fact that the school bell had just rung, ran into the basket.
forgetting the particulars i remember the contraption door shutting and the air craft began to rise. i called out to noela to get of fast but when has she ever heeded me!
then suddenly next to her i saw what was unmistakably the Onida devil, red, bald and horned, waving out and laughing in his typical evil way...muahahahaha!! then they went off sister and all.
so u tell me, what do dreams mean??
but personally anyway my dreams have always been reflections of my feelings as well as predictions of the future. (i should know, i have the gift of prophecy)
of all my dreams i most distinctly remember the one about my sister.
noela, my younger sister is the complete reverse of me. though a year apart she bosses me around to the extent that I'm now prepared for the world of business.
getting back to my dream though....
i think it was around 14 years ago, we were both on our way to school, in matching red and white checked dresses and color co-ordinated nickers. i think we were late because i till today remember the sense of urgency to get through the gates and into class.
on our way though we met the most outrageously amazing looking air balloon with a wicker basket and tingly music playing. noela along with a bunch of others, so ignorant to the fact that the school bell had just rung, ran into the basket.
forgetting the particulars i remember the contraption door shutting and the air craft began to rise. i called out to noela to get of fast but when has she ever heeded me!
then suddenly next to her i saw what was unmistakably the Onida devil, red, bald and horned, waving out and laughing in his typical evil way...muahahahaha!! then they went off sister and all.
so u tell me, what do dreams mean??
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
the idiot
in the flurry of living- of chasing buses and climbing stairs, I've forgotten to look around. in my narrow path of cobbled daily dull, i skip life like the lovey pages of a mills and boons, too impatient to tend to details(well, some details).
but that has always been me. inattentive and short sighted. that's why i think my computer talks to me when i play Lara croft!
but that has always been me. inattentive and short sighted. that's why i think my computer talks to me when i play Lara croft!
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