Wednesday, December 29, 2004
It's coming...
There's going to be a mega-movie...about earthquakes...tsunamis...and destruction. The panic will spread everywhere and people will wonder about earthquakes affecting major cities. Global paranoia will escalate before fizzling out when the next disaster strikes...a giant reptilian monster from the suburbs of Oslo. Tsk tsk.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Deranged maniac seeks love-hate relationship with clone
Human male, 19, seeks female of same species.
Said suitor deems himself to be facetiously courteous, but self-effacingly arrogant (in an underhand sort of way). 'Bookish quiet charm' (i.e. a half-tone between boring and talking vegetable) and yet overbearingly supercilious. Let's rock this mind-warp and drive each other off the jagged edge of sanity's grassy bluffs. Send flames to:
iisdbiwiptlmstt@yahoo.co.uk
Ah yes - I get to speak 7 times. 7. Lucky 7. Hurrah. Francis Nurse, you fool.
Said suitor deems himself to be facetiously courteous, but self-effacingly arrogant (in an underhand sort of way). 'Bookish quiet charm' (i.e. a half-tone between boring and talking vegetable) and yet overbearingly supercilious. Let's rock this mind-warp and drive each other off the jagged edge of sanity's grassy bluffs. Send flames to:
iisdbiwiptlmstt@yahoo.co.uk
Ah yes - I get to speak 7 times. 7. Lucky 7. Hurrah. Francis Nurse, you fool.
Monday, December 27, 2004
Ad: Deranged maniac seeks companion
19 year old human male seeks female of same species. No racial, height or age bias. Devil-worshippers and those with body odour unwelcome. A love of ice-cream, corny 'inspirational' film music and the Lord of the Rings is a bonus.
The desperate youth in question is thoughtful and 'pensively quiet' (a.k.a boring and singularly untalented). Does not fidget but is a chronic fingernail-biter. Somewhat obsessive-compulsive. Underconfident and self-righteous. Kind, thoughtful and compassionate, but a pitifully vengeful swine. Dislikes tripe and noisy small children, loves salmon and gadgets that his tight-fistedness won't permit him to buy.
Send applications and flames to iisdbiwiptlmstt@yahoo.co.uk
Come on baby, let's drive each other off the cliff of sanity!
The desperate youth in question is thoughtful and 'pensively quiet' (a.k.a boring and singularly untalented). Does not fidget but is a chronic fingernail-biter. Somewhat obsessive-compulsive. Underconfident and self-righteous. Kind, thoughtful and compassionate, but a pitifully vengeful swine. Dislikes tripe and noisy small children, loves salmon and gadgets that his tight-fistedness won't permit him to buy.
Send applications and flames to iisdbiwiptlmstt@yahoo.co.uk
Come on baby, let's drive each other off the cliff of sanity!
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Ars longa, vita brevis
This is my second post today (Boxing Day, 2004). See below for the first. That means I'm thinking. Hard. Help me - I'm finally losing it. Or if I'm not, I'm thinking that I'm not. I'm also wondering whether this act of thinking means that either I think too much or that I actually AM losing it.
For some reason the jet-lag hasn't quite worn off yet. I'm beginning to wonder if it's actually the fatigue from this term settling in for the holidays. I'm paying my dues, I suppose. After all, I'm still technically a teenager - several hours of sleep (ought to be) required.
Is it worth the trouble? Getting up every day to the same roll call, the same drum beat that rolls the final curtain ever closer? So many people are led to drop from their high hopes to a lower ledge, to abandon their aspirations and awake from their dreams to a bitter reality that leaves a stinging after-taste for years. If this sounds like yet another exhortation to persevere, so be it - a clarion call for those with no real grievance except that which seems to be fabricated from the fragile imaginings that brings those puerile minds ever closer to the edge of sanity.
Yet - hark to my words - yet - the decision to try is ours. We can choose to keep reaching for the unattainable, to grasp that spindle of perfection beyond all the odds, great or small. Even those with rotten attitudes need not fear - regret is a byproduct of failing to try. My own life is filled with anguish and regret over things a far greater (or lesser, even) person would easily surmount; although greatly blessed in comparison to others, I still manage to wallow in the bitterness and disappointment of many past losses; depression clouds my judgement. I have to tell myself to breathe (and laugh!). Nevertheless, I strive. I strive for that goal because I have realised that this is the one thing that can never be taken away from me - the will to try. The arrogant, self-righteous and annoying shell falls away and no disability or obstacle can ever prevent me from reaching for whichever goal I try to attain. I may know deep within me that I shall never reach my target, but the will - yes, the will to get there is enough. Whether praised or derided, maimed or in health, alone or surrounded by adoration - I shall continue to try. Fault my logic if you will, but my endeavours will last to the very end. Whether time permits a legacy matters not to me - the essence is in the will - to strive till the very end.
For some reason the jet-lag hasn't quite worn off yet. I'm beginning to wonder if it's actually the fatigue from this term settling in for the holidays. I'm paying my dues, I suppose. After all, I'm still technically a teenager - several hours of sleep (ought to be) required.
Is it worth the trouble? Getting up every day to the same roll call, the same drum beat that rolls the final curtain ever closer? So many people are led to drop from their high hopes to a lower ledge, to abandon their aspirations and awake from their dreams to a bitter reality that leaves a stinging after-taste for years. If this sounds like yet another exhortation to persevere, so be it - a clarion call for those with no real grievance except that which seems to be fabricated from the fragile imaginings that brings those puerile minds ever closer to the edge of sanity.
Yet - hark to my words - yet - the decision to try is ours. We can choose to keep reaching for the unattainable, to grasp that spindle of perfection beyond all the odds, great or small. Even those with rotten attitudes need not fear - regret is a byproduct of failing to try. My own life is filled with anguish and regret over things a far greater (or lesser, even) person would easily surmount; although greatly blessed in comparison to others, I still manage to wallow in the bitterness and disappointment of many past losses; depression clouds my judgement. I have to tell myself to breathe (and laugh!). Nevertheless, I strive. I strive for that goal because I have realised that this is the one thing that can never be taken away from me - the will to try. The arrogant, self-righteous and annoying shell falls away and no disability or obstacle can ever prevent me from reaching for whichever goal I try to attain. I may know deep within me that I shall never reach my target, but the will - yes, the will to get there is enough. Whether praised or derided, maimed or in health, alone or surrounded by adoration - I shall continue to try. Fault my logic if you will, but my endeavours will last to the very end. Whether time permits a legacy matters not to me - the essence is in the will - to strive till the very end.
Bah Humbug
I returned the belt. It wouldn't have fit me anyway.
I'm not sure what the cow statuette is for - the inscription mentions ruling the world, but the future is as dim and hazy as the past.
I suppose the shirt matches the shorts - let's hope.
"Another day is going by, I'm thinking about you all the time, but you're out there and I'm here waiting. But now you're gone and I can't think straight. This could be the one last chance to make you understand - I'd do anything just to hold you in my arms...somehow I can't put you in the past. Would you remember me...I know I won't forget you. After all these years, I'll be here; I'll be waiting. I just can't let you leave me once again. Somehow I just can't put you in the past. I'd do anything." Poignant at this time of year. Apt. Fitting.
Pause for a second to remember those in poverty and misery. Typhoons, earthquakes, wars, tidal waves, famines, civil wars, political unrest. Pause for a second to think about happier times. Life goes on. Indeed, life goes on.
I'm not sure what the cow statuette is for - the inscription mentions ruling the world, but the future is as dim and hazy as the past.
I suppose the shirt matches the shorts - let's hope.
"Another day is going by, I'm thinking about you all the time, but you're out there and I'm here waiting. But now you're gone and I can't think straight. This could be the one last chance to make you understand - I'd do anything just to hold you in my arms...somehow I can't put you in the past. Would you remember me...I know I won't forget you. After all these years, I'll be here; I'll be waiting. I just can't let you leave me once again. Somehow I just can't put you in the past. I'd do anything." Poignant at this time of year. Apt. Fitting.
Pause for a second to remember those in poverty and misery. Typhoons, earthquakes, wars, tidal waves, famines, civil wars, political unrest. Pause for a second to think about happier times. Life goes on. Indeed, life goes on.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
I see sunlight
Touchdown at 1940 hrs. An eight-legged Sri Lankan greeted me later that evening. Little seems to have changed - veiled by the heat and humidity, the sunlight finally begins to stream through the clouds, beckoning me for a swim. I think I shall oblige. It's certainly quite a change to see sunlight after weeks of endless grey. Hang on - the great ball of fire's gone. Somebody's thrown a massive cloud blanket that stretches over those turreted apartment blocks. Argh. You can't win it all...
My consultant was ill, my flatmate was ill, my mother is just recovering - practically everyone around me is ill. I boldly predict that I shall not succumb to this current bout of seasonal flu, as this holiday shall demand slightly more of me than last summer's couch-potato requirements...remaining permanently on guard...those 'health sentinels' patrolling constantly. We simply can't afford to lose it now. Consolidate and build. Build and defend. Defend and attack.
It's time to get busy, people.
My consultant was ill, my flatmate was ill, my mother is just recovering - practically everyone around me is ill. I boldly predict that I shall not succumb to this current bout of seasonal flu, as this holiday shall demand slightly more of me than last summer's couch-potato requirements...remaining permanently on guard...those 'health sentinels' patrolling constantly. We simply can't afford to lose it now. Consolidate and build. Build and defend. Defend and attack.
It's time to get busy, people.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Plummer-Vinson (Paterson-Brown-Kelly)
I have reached the conclusion that I am evil. I pursue an ends-justifying-means path to a goal that can never be reached, for to reach it would render the goal an empty promise. I look over my shoulder and would take a swing at those who would come near me. I think I know how to empathise, but I merely squirt a dribble of pity. I live in a crucible, a burning shield that suffocates. Depressing, ain't it?
Why do people think that laymen can regulate the General Medical Council? What gave plumbers and financiers the right to tell coloproctologists that they should be chaperoned when performing digital rectal examinations? In a small departure from protocol:
I AM NOT A FASCIST. I AM A PRAGMATIST. I DON'T CARE WHETHER YOU THINK I'M MAD.
SCREW THE BRIGADE OF POLITICALLY CORRECT NAZIS! YOU STUPID INSOLENT TURDS KNOW NOTHING ABOUT PREVENTING YOUR OWN TERMINAL ILLNESSES AND YET YOU WANT A TRIBE OF SAVAGE PARLIAMENTARIANS TO STRANGLE THE MEDICAL PROFESSION WITH LOINCLOTH-TORNIQUETS. A PLAGUE ON YOU! TO THOSE ANTI-ANIMAL RESEARCH PROTESTERS AND ANTI-MEDICAL PEOPLE - DO YOU KNOW WHY, DESPITE YOUR SCAREMONGERING AND TERRORIST ACTS OF ANARCHY, YOU WILL CONTINUE TO BE TREATED WITH THE CARE AND COMPASSION THAT BEFITS A HUMAN BEING WHEN YOUR COLON HAS RUPTURED? BECAUSE THOSE DOCTORS AND SCIENTISTS YOU SET OUT TO DEMONISE HAVE MORE DECENT SHREDS OF HUMANITY THAN YOU COULD EVER HOPE TO REALISE. THEY CARE ABOUT PEOPLE. THEY CARE ABOUT RESEARCH. RESEARCH FINDS THINGS OUT TO SATISFY CURIOUS MINDS, BUT THOSE MINDS WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN CURIOUS IF THEY HAD NEVER FELT AT LEAST A TWINGE OF COMPASSION FOR THOSE DYING FROM INCURABLE DISEASE.
Phew. Forgive the rant.
Why do people think that laymen can regulate the General Medical Council? What gave plumbers and financiers the right to tell coloproctologists that they should be chaperoned when performing digital rectal examinations? In a small departure from protocol:
I AM NOT A FASCIST. I AM A PRAGMATIST. I DON'T CARE WHETHER YOU THINK I'M MAD.
SCREW THE BRIGADE OF POLITICALLY CORRECT NAZIS! YOU STUPID INSOLENT TURDS KNOW NOTHING ABOUT PREVENTING YOUR OWN TERMINAL ILLNESSES AND YET YOU WANT A TRIBE OF SAVAGE PARLIAMENTARIANS TO STRANGLE THE MEDICAL PROFESSION WITH LOINCLOTH-TORNIQUETS. A PLAGUE ON YOU! TO THOSE ANTI-ANIMAL RESEARCH PROTESTERS AND ANTI-MEDICAL PEOPLE - DO YOU KNOW WHY, DESPITE YOUR SCAREMONGERING AND TERRORIST ACTS OF ANARCHY, YOU WILL CONTINUE TO BE TREATED WITH THE CARE AND COMPASSION THAT BEFITS A HUMAN BEING WHEN YOUR COLON HAS RUPTURED? BECAUSE THOSE DOCTORS AND SCIENTISTS YOU SET OUT TO DEMONISE HAVE MORE DECENT SHREDS OF HUMANITY THAN YOU COULD EVER HOPE TO REALISE. THEY CARE ABOUT PEOPLE. THEY CARE ABOUT RESEARCH. RESEARCH FINDS THINGS OUT TO SATISFY CURIOUS MINDS, BUT THOSE MINDS WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN CURIOUS IF THEY HAD NEVER FELT AT LEAST A TWINGE OF COMPASSION FOR THOSE DYING FROM INCURABLE DISEASE.
Phew. Forgive the rant.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Noel, Noel
I woke up this morning chanting 'mesosalpinx, mesosalpinx, mesosalpinx.' I know what the blasted thing is, but why did it secrete itself into that period of REM sleep this morning? Why? Anyway...
Oh, that lovely warm fuzzy Christmas feeling, nitrogen bubbles in my blood and a clot in my brain giving me that lovely nauseous feeling of wanting to embrace all of humanity and cry aloud my joy at the wonder and splendour of the season. Yeah.
Attended a carol service at All Soul's church yesterday evening - absolutely gorgeous mince pies. As a connoisseur I have to give my stamp of approval to the nice shallow-dish ones. Simply delectable.
One down, three to go...CU, St Augustine's and St Mary's. Oh, how I love Christmas, oh how I love sugary mince pies - not to mention the mulled wine.
That was certainly a lot of oh-ing...I seem to have temporarily lost my bearings - specifically the heavy one that keeps me weighed down and tethered to this good earth - the one that reminds me I'm nothing more than a frail human being. In a surreptitious fit of temporary happiness my mind managed to escape its prison and burst forth with unrestrained candour. Actually, life isn't that great. Always remember - it could be better. You don't have everything, you'll never get everything, but you can damn well try.
For example: Who do we look up to? What do we want to be? By whose standards do we define ourselves?
1) The professor of surgery (he's taller than most people anyway)
2) The professor of surgery (duh)
3) The professor of surgery (cut me some slack, okay?)
Enough of that. Life could be worse. Always remember to wear a lead shield when you enter the interventional radiology room - and don't forget the thyroid shield, for which a waist brace is a poor replacement (in addition to a sure way to make nurses laugh).
Oh, that lovely warm fuzzy Christmas feeling, nitrogen bubbles in my blood and a clot in my brain giving me that lovely nauseous feeling of wanting to embrace all of humanity and cry aloud my joy at the wonder and splendour of the season. Yeah.
Attended a carol service at All Soul's church yesterday evening - absolutely gorgeous mince pies. As a connoisseur I have to give my stamp of approval to the nice shallow-dish ones. Simply delectable.
One down, three to go...CU, St Augustine's and St Mary's. Oh, how I love Christmas, oh how I love sugary mince pies - not to mention the mulled wine.
That was certainly a lot of oh-ing...I seem to have temporarily lost my bearings - specifically the heavy one that keeps me weighed down and tethered to this good earth - the one that reminds me I'm nothing more than a frail human being. In a surreptitious fit of temporary happiness my mind managed to escape its prison and burst forth with unrestrained candour. Actually, life isn't that great. Always remember - it could be better. You don't have everything, you'll never get everything, but you can damn well try.
For example: Who do we look up to? What do we want to be? By whose standards do we define ourselves?
1) The professor of surgery (he's taller than most people anyway)
2) The professor of surgery (duh)
3) The professor of surgery (cut me some slack, okay?)
Enough of that. Life could be worse. Always remember to wear a lead shield when you enter the interventional radiology room - and don't forget the thyroid shield, for which a waist brace is a poor replacement (in addition to a sure way to make nurses laugh).
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Hidradenitis Suppurativa
Lovely. Pus squirted everywhere, splattering the bleached white coat of my firm-mate. Firms have been interesting so far. Yes, indeed, interesting. My (previously limited) powers of observation have slowly been tweaked and I've realised there are several people I don't really like. Still, too many things to tell in this little blog.
I met an a couple of old friends this afternoon for lunch. Good to catch up for a while.
Besides my schedule of 4 carol services accompanied by liberal helpings of mince pies and mulled wine, I'm looking forward to returning to Singapore in just under a fortnight. I do miss my family. Can't wait to make them watch the Lord of the Rings (again) with me...this time the extended edition DVD series of 12 hours, 22 minutes (triple DVD extravaganza)...possibly.
We really are linked by some inextricably complicated kind of tangled web. So many of these patients I've met share their stories; even observing apparently mundane human interactions gives an insight into the depth of meaning of this spinning wheel of life...I'm going all giddy now, spouting hallucinogenic metaphors like a fruitloop drowning in a tub of UHT milk. Honestly, now.
I met an a couple of old friends this afternoon for lunch. Good to catch up for a while.
Besides my schedule of 4 carol services accompanied by liberal helpings of mince pies and mulled wine, I'm looking forward to returning to Singapore in just under a fortnight. I do miss my family. Can't wait to make them watch the Lord of the Rings (again) with me...this time the extended edition DVD series of 12 hours, 22 minutes (triple DVD extravaganza)...possibly.
We really are linked by some inextricably complicated kind of tangled web. So many of these patients I've met share their stories; even observing apparently mundane human interactions gives an insight into the depth of meaning of this spinning wheel of life...I'm going all giddy now, spouting hallucinogenic metaphors like a fruitloop drowning in a tub of UHT milk. Honestly, now.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Lost
Help. Help. Help.
Help. Help. Help.
Help. Help. Help.
Hear hear, my lords.
Tomorrow is yet another day, a tale untold that shall unfold beyond our strangest imaginings.
Help. Help. Help.
Help. Help. Help.
Hear hear, my lords.
Tomorrow is yet another day, a tale untold that shall unfold beyond our strangest imaginings.
Sunday, November 28, 2004
A.T. Esq
I'm beginning to see why suffering exists. One reason - it validates the existence of happiness (and other nice, good, fluffy cuddly things). It makes them seem so much better. Being dragged through a muddy embankment and emerging on a green jewel-encrusted vale is far more satisfying than a brisk walk in the park. That said, I shall probably regret every ounce of this tomorrow morning. Roll on life!
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Fallible
Papal infallibility. To all those Catholics out there, I'm sorry - it's just not possible. To err is human, to forgive - divine.
A wise soul once told me that winners never quit and quitters never win. Ms Seery, your mantra is more apt and fitting than you could ever know. My sincere thanks. With the good comes the bad, I suppose. A new day will dawn from the ashen horizon of the old.
Today's little discourse will grumble on about stereotypes. Hear the crank speak!
In our postmodern, politically correct, androgynously castrated world we pride ourselves on a tolerance that has failed to curb the hatred exploding from beneath. I do not advocate discrimination in any way, shape or form. I merely suggest that at the end of the day, it is our prejudices that save us. Almost (but hardly) analagous to the limbic system - it's an old but intrinsic thing, which preserves us. Even if it were the product of conditioning, surely there is a reason for such behaviour to be perpetuated so strongly in society. Ultimately, those stereotypes are difficult to comprehend and although they cleave the planes of human diversity, the resulting shapes form a startling mosaic that somehow prevents us going totally mad. This doesn't make sense. None of it does. I'm sleepy.
A wise soul once told me that winners never quit and quitters never win. Ms Seery, your mantra is more apt and fitting than you could ever know. My sincere thanks. With the good comes the bad, I suppose. A new day will dawn from the ashen horizon of the old.
Today's little discourse will grumble on about stereotypes. Hear the crank speak!
In our postmodern, politically correct, androgynously castrated world we pride ourselves on a tolerance that has failed to curb the hatred exploding from beneath. I do not advocate discrimination in any way, shape or form. I merely suggest that at the end of the day, it is our prejudices that save us. Almost (but hardly) analagous to the limbic system - it's an old but intrinsic thing, which preserves us. Even if it were the product of conditioning, surely there is a reason for such behaviour to be perpetuated so strongly in society. Ultimately, those stereotypes are difficult to comprehend and although they cleave the planes of human diversity, the resulting shapes form a startling mosaic that somehow prevents us going totally mad. This doesn't make sense. None of it does. I'm sleepy.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Draining a Mental Abscess
What do you do when a part of your soul is locked away, walled off to fester in the deepest recesses of your mind?
Life could be worse. It could be better. I cast a cursory glance over my blog entries and wonder whether visitors to this site come because they like knowing that there is some fool out there who registers slightly higher on the insanity scale than they do. Perhaps it is of some cool comfort to you that you can mock my trivial raves about my insignificant pains. Indeed, you may enjoy this as a silly comic monologue that fills the channels of the Internet with yet more junk that just happens to be slightly more presumptuous than it deems itself to be. I know this perpetual self analysis leads nowhere. I'm playing it out to see where I'll be led by my own wandering thoughts. Our minds meander - at least mine does. Tomorrow will be a new day, a red sunrise will (if unobscured by grey clouds) herald bouts of rainy English weather, further dampening (and perhaps diluting) one's already sodden spirits. Ponder for a while whether it's all worth the daily grind - what lies ahead? Perhaps you've reached the conclusion that nothing is worth the effort that is needlessly spent to sustain it. We're all reeling into the depths of a foggy, mist-shrouded moorland tomb that will gladly swallow us whole to feed yet another cycle of ignorant life. If I sound like a mad killjoy, or better still a proponent of existential nihilism (if you'd do me the honours!), then perhaps I'm misunderstood. I'm merely a (rather lost) confused person driven to the brink by his own self-conversations which he (self-voyeuristically) chooses to publish online. Read more: http://www.iep.utm.edu/n/nihilism.htm. They have a fabulous quote pinched from Shakespeare's Macbeth:
Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
I'm that idiot. Worse still, you're my audience. Sincerity has no friends but tells no lies.
Life could be worse. It could be better. I cast a cursory glance over my blog entries and wonder whether visitors to this site come because they like knowing that there is some fool out there who registers slightly higher on the insanity scale than they do. Perhaps it is of some cool comfort to you that you can mock my trivial raves about my insignificant pains. Indeed, you may enjoy this as a silly comic monologue that fills the channels of the Internet with yet more junk that just happens to be slightly more presumptuous than it deems itself to be. I know this perpetual self analysis leads nowhere. I'm playing it out to see where I'll be led by my own wandering thoughts. Our minds meander - at least mine does. Tomorrow will be a new day, a red sunrise will (if unobscured by grey clouds) herald bouts of rainy English weather, further dampening (and perhaps diluting) one's already sodden spirits. Ponder for a while whether it's all worth the daily grind - what lies ahead? Perhaps you've reached the conclusion that nothing is worth the effort that is needlessly spent to sustain it. We're all reeling into the depths of a foggy, mist-shrouded moorland tomb that will gladly swallow us whole to feed yet another cycle of ignorant life. If I sound like a mad killjoy, or better still a proponent of existential nihilism (if you'd do me the honours!), then perhaps I'm misunderstood. I'm merely a (rather lost) confused person driven to the brink by his own self-conversations which he (self-voyeuristically) chooses to publish online. Read more: http://www.iep.utm.edu/n/nihilism.htm. They have a fabulous quote pinched from Shakespeare's Macbeth:
Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
I'm that idiot. Worse still, you're my audience. Sincerity has no friends but tells no lies.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Desperado
From the depths of the tarry pits I cry, a muffled snort piercing the dim darkness around as the incoherent sound falls into its own noiseless shadow.
How can something that was meant to go so well turn out so incredibly, horribly wrong? Tomorrow I return to the same fiery chasm. I hate my life. No more pretenses - no more flowery terms or silly expressions - I come clean - I hate my life. Desperation and despair have now set in and the rot has reached a raw nerve. Leave it to a master of melancholic repetition to continually intone in the gloomiest of baritones the slide into his own demise.
I'm too tired to write anymore. I shall slip into a fitful coma and pretend to be dead for a while. Oh yes, that would be nice. N.B. I do not condone suicide. It is bad for the species, not to mention costly to the ambulance services and detrimental to onlookers. Then again, pathologists must have a field day. Jigsaw puzzles all over again.
Indeed. Life is like a jigsaw puzzle - you never know which piece you're missing at the very end, so you write to the company hoping to get a replacement, only to find out they've gone out of business.
More to the point - (or actually, less so) - jigsaw puzzles and life - they're broken. Split along many planes, always presenting tricks to the mind, with subtle changes creeping between those jagged edges. The big picture can only be seen at the end, but we so often lose sight of it - just as we so often concentrate on the minutiae and details only to forget how to appreciate how cool life really is. I'm amused at how I've managed to somehow (albeit temporarily) write myself out of my little clot of misery. Cathartic, almost (I like saying that). I also (irritatingly) like brackets/parentheses. How incredibly awkward. I don't really know what to say.
How can something that was meant to go so well turn out so incredibly, horribly wrong? Tomorrow I return to the same fiery chasm. I hate my life. No more pretenses - no more flowery terms or silly expressions - I come clean - I hate my life. Desperation and despair have now set in and the rot has reached a raw nerve. Leave it to a master of melancholic repetition to continually intone in the gloomiest of baritones the slide into his own demise.
I'm too tired to write anymore. I shall slip into a fitful coma and pretend to be dead for a while. Oh yes, that would be nice. N.B. I do not condone suicide. It is bad for the species, not to mention costly to the ambulance services and detrimental to onlookers. Then again, pathologists must have a field day. Jigsaw puzzles all over again.
Indeed. Life is like a jigsaw puzzle - you never know which piece you're missing at the very end, so you write to the company hoping to get a replacement, only to find out they've gone out of business.
More to the point - (or actually, less so) - jigsaw puzzles and life - they're broken. Split along many planes, always presenting tricks to the mind, with subtle changes creeping between those jagged edges. The big picture can only be seen at the end, but we so often lose sight of it - just as we so often concentrate on the minutiae and details only to forget how to appreciate how cool life really is. I'm amused at how I've managed to somehow (albeit temporarily) write myself out of my little clot of misery. Cathartic, almost (I like saying that). I also (irritatingly) like brackets/parentheses. How incredibly awkward. I don't really know what to say.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Borborygmi and Brain-melt
Today I shall pontificate. Yep. As the sun doth shine (albeit for a precious few hours this season), the birds do tweet (providing the cold hasn't killed off those too weak to migrate to Africa) and the fulsome wholeness of my ego rumbles on like a juggernaut over the crumpled husks of yesterday's dissenters.....indeed, it's time for some cathartic rubbish-spouting.
By the way, please excuse the pretentious tone - it comes naturally with the borborygmi - I'm insatiably hungry...I guarantee, I shall digress...
I'm a little short on inspiration at the moment, but there is one thing that's been nagging at me for quite some time. Simply put: Intention. Most actions in life are simple reflections of highly developed reflexes:
"Good morning, neighbour! Isn't the weather lovely? How's your aunt Winnie?"
"Sod off, you old git! It's pouring bucketloads of industrial acidic effluent, her name's Wilhelmina, and I'll never forgive you for painting your side of the fence bright orange with sky-blue hex-symbols! Get thee hence, minion of Hecate!"
Regardless, 'original' ideas and not-quite-spontaneous reactions somehow manage to percolate through those dense layers of cerebral cortex every now and then.
'Perhaps I should help that person in trouble over there'. It's not quite instinctive - one might be in a rush for lectures or thinking about how amidst all the pain and suffering in the world it's wonderful to be able to procrasatinate and type yet another mindless blog entry. Whatever the case, that split-second processing sometimes triggers another thought: that self-satisfied feeling of having done a good turn to a fellow member of humanity struggling to keep running on this spinning celestial orb. Is that feeling justified? What about the momentary need to make a decision? Surely true selflessness would (rather un-streetwise-ly) offer a helping hand without pausing to size up the situation. Does the sense of 'kudos' negate any intangible benefit there might otherwise have been, instead replacing it with a little speck of pride - selfish pride - at having flexed one's own superiority in a minuscule by assisting another person?
Certainly, you could blandly claim some kind of 'what goes around, comes around' idea, but that kind of prognostication brings little satisfaction to anyone's life. Indeed, to make my point - this discussion itself could trigger all sorts of thoughts in a reader's mind:
confusion/dismay/utter disbelief at my trivial discourse on a matter of no real cosmic significance/etc.
My brain has baked itself into a molten mush and I'm feeling tired. The week has been long and I shudder to think of what lies ahead. Roll on tomorrow!
By the way, please excuse the pretentious tone - it comes naturally with the borborygmi - I'm insatiably hungry...I guarantee, I shall digress...
I'm a little short on inspiration at the moment, but there is one thing that's been nagging at me for quite some time. Simply put: Intention. Most actions in life are simple reflections of highly developed reflexes:
"Good morning, neighbour! Isn't the weather lovely? How's your aunt Winnie?"
"Sod off, you old git! It's pouring bucketloads of industrial acidic effluent, her name's Wilhelmina, and I'll never forgive you for painting your side of the fence bright orange with sky-blue hex-symbols! Get thee hence, minion of Hecate!"
Regardless, 'original' ideas and not-quite-spontaneous reactions somehow manage to percolate through those dense layers of cerebral cortex every now and then.
'Perhaps I should help that person in trouble over there'. It's not quite instinctive - one might be in a rush for lectures or thinking about how amidst all the pain and suffering in the world it's wonderful to be able to procrasatinate and type yet another mindless blog entry. Whatever the case, that split-second processing sometimes triggers another thought: that self-satisfied feeling of having done a good turn to a fellow member of humanity struggling to keep running on this spinning celestial orb. Is that feeling justified? What about the momentary need to make a decision? Surely true selflessness would (rather un-streetwise-ly) offer a helping hand without pausing to size up the situation. Does the sense of 'kudos' negate any intangible benefit there might otherwise have been, instead replacing it with a little speck of pride - selfish pride - at having flexed one's own superiority in a minuscule by assisting another person?
Certainly, you could blandly claim some kind of 'what goes around, comes around' idea, but that kind of prognostication brings little satisfaction to anyone's life. Indeed, to make my point - this discussion itself could trigger all sorts of thoughts in a reader's mind:
confusion/dismay/utter disbelief at my trivial discourse on a matter of no real cosmic significance/etc.
My brain has baked itself into a molten mush and I'm feeling tired. The week has been long and I shudder to think of what lies ahead. Roll on tomorrow!
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
24 hours
There are too few hours in a day.
Do excuse the disjointed nature of this piece. It is not an essay.
I've bought (£897) my flight home. Yet another 17000 air-miles accrued to the mileage bank. I ordered the kosher meal from London to Singapore and the halal meal from Singapore to London. On board I shall ask to switch to the pork selection. That should flummox those immaculately-dressed, daintily-clad, sarong-kebaya-wearing Singapore Airlines air-drones. Hahahaha.....but to be fair, they're really nice to me. It's the bureaucracy I can't stand.....
I've just realised something. I don't need to feel guilty. Not anymore. I don't need mcuh of a social conscience - one can be rather evil and there isn't much of a payback.....
Made sandwiches for the homeless last Friday. Oooh.....don't I sound like such a hypocrite, just after the previous paragraph. Still, it felt good and the scrapings of leftover cheddar were certainly quite tasty.
My cousin Eve(lyn) visits next week. I hike in Kent this Sunday. Neuroscience is still no better but hopefully Haematology will hold itself together until Friday. My first firm beckons next Tuesday, under the stern supervision of Professor Allen-Mersh at the Chelsea & Westminster Hospital. Gastrointestinal surgery it is, then. Hurrah!
I had dreams of making creamy Pulot Hitam with coconut milk, but that shall have to await my return to Singapore. I'm thinking of joining the canoe club next Tuesday - just found out about them - I'm absolutely thrilled and rather excited at the prospect of skidding down rapids some time soon....
Learned a new swimming technique last night with Hugh. Interesting. I didn't drink too much pool water/toddler pee.
Bought four more posters today at half-price. Rather pleased with myself.
Now for something poetic. Oliver has been writing a doggerel of haiku verse, so I shan't try to compete with his magnificent efforts.
I can only manage two lines, after that little Corax/Columba dichotomous verse thing (posted below, Thu Nov 11).
Actually, never mind. I'll post it next time.
Do excuse the disjointed nature of this piece. It is not an essay.
I've bought (£897) my flight home. Yet another 17000 air-miles accrued to the mileage bank. I ordered the kosher meal from London to Singapore and the halal meal from Singapore to London. On board I shall ask to switch to the pork selection. That should flummox those immaculately-dressed, daintily-clad, sarong-kebaya-wearing Singapore Airlines air-drones. Hahahaha.....but to be fair, they're really nice to me. It's the bureaucracy I can't stand.....
I've just realised something. I don't need to feel guilty. Not anymore. I don't need mcuh of a social conscience - one can be rather evil and there isn't much of a payback.....
Made sandwiches for the homeless last Friday. Oooh.....don't I sound like such a hypocrite, just after the previous paragraph. Still, it felt good and the scrapings of leftover cheddar were certainly quite tasty.
My cousin Eve(lyn) visits next week. I hike in Kent this Sunday. Neuroscience is still no better but hopefully Haematology will hold itself together until Friday. My first firm beckons next Tuesday, under the stern supervision of Professor Allen-Mersh at the Chelsea & Westminster Hospital. Gastrointestinal surgery it is, then. Hurrah!
I had dreams of making creamy Pulot Hitam with coconut milk, but that shall have to await my return to Singapore. I'm thinking of joining the canoe club next Tuesday - just found out about them - I'm absolutely thrilled and rather excited at the prospect of skidding down rapids some time soon....
Learned a new swimming technique last night with Hugh. Interesting. I didn't drink too much pool water/toddler pee.
Bought four more posters today at half-price. Rather pleased with myself.
Now for something poetic. Oliver has been writing a doggerel of haiku verse, so I shan't try to compete with his magnificent efforts.
I can only manage two lines, after that little Corax/Columba dichotomous verse thing (posted below, Thu Nov 11).
Actually, never mind. I'll post it next time.
Monday, November 15, 2004
Resurrection! It lives! It lives!
This emotional rollercoaster has finally come to an end. Nothing short of that little concept of 'mirabilis' has occurred. Those of you who have been so unsupportive with your head-nodding, umm-ing and ahh-ing, words of 'advice'.....you've all been proved wrong by one tiny little thing. The mushy side of me (see below: 'Softy') would call it 'hope' but I know better.....it's the indomitable never-say-die, at-all-costs, stick-with-it (I'm fond of triple-word-jigs) spirit of PERSEVERANCE. Just wait and ride out the storm.....
Mr U.S.B. Drive was found (missing only his cap) in the dark recesses of my tan chinos at 1915hrs, 15/11/2004. Having been drowned in the spinning vortex of a washing machine and hung out to dry the previous weekend, he miraculously survived intact, with all his data preserved! He has now been reunited with his cap and shall be gradually nursed back to health. We salute you, Mr Drive. A true hero and a sterling example to us all.
Mr U.S.B. Drive was found (missing only his cap) in the dark recesses of my tan chinos at 1915hrs, 15/11/2004. Having been drowned in the spinning vortex of a washing machine and hung out to dry the previous weekend, he miraculously survived intact, with all his data preserved! He has now been reunited with his cap and shall be gradually nursed back to health. We salute you, Mr Drive. A true hero and a sterling example to us all.
Softy
I feel very 'soft' right now. Perhaps it's my new fleece hoodie, or the abrading cold weather rubbing down my hardened exterior shell.
I can't quite describe the feeling.
Anyway, my sanity is also being eroded by the sheer madness of trying to book a flight home to Singapore. Mainly to get the airmiles so that the next time I board they'll bow so low the plane will tip...
Anyway, it's frustrating and there is no way on the net to pay less than £1000. Time for some hard buying...those airliners need to learn not to get me peeved.
I suddenly don't feel so soft anymore...
I can't quite describe the feeling.
Anyway, my sanity is also being eroded by the sheer madness of trying to book a flight home to Singapore. Mainly to get the airmiles so that the next time I board they'll bow so low the plane will tip...
Anyway, it's frustrating and there is no way on the net to pay less than £1000. Time for some hard buying...those airliners need to learn not to get me peeved.
I suddenly don't feel so soft anymore...
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Motivate me!
Shades of Grey
Corax by night, Columba by day,
Black as the darkness, white glimmers bright.
Unkindness of strangers and piteousness of friends,
Ill-tidings dusk brings until peace sheds a light.
JH
Corax by night, Columba by day,
Black as the darkness, white glimmers bright.
Unkindness of strangers and piteousness of friends,
Ill-tidings dusk brings until peace sheds a light.
JH
Saturday, November 06, 2004
RIP USB
20/08/2002 - 03/11/2004
It's traumatic to lose something so close to your heart, a dear and loyal friend whose sterling service for such a long time shall shine as an example to others for years to come. Utterly irreplaceable. A friend to the end and a true companion.
RIP, USB, you shall be sorely missed.
It's traumatic to lose something so close to your heart, a dear and loyal friend whose sterling service for such a long time shall shine as an example to others for years to come. Utterly irreplaceable. A friend to the end and a true companion.
RIP, USB, you shall be sorely missed.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Hurrah.
I have often wondered whether it's all worth it. Whether one merely goes through the motions of another day, hoping that one day the endless cycle will break under the strain of hurtling towards its own profound eternal destiny of never being able to end. Absolute nonsense, I know, but it makes a pathetically twisted kind of sense once you've been at it long enough. Like a hamster running endlessly on its treadmill until its final ounce of life is spent.
On a more cheerful note - I now live in a flat with a friend (who shall remain anonymous for his own protection), for those who care to know. We do not have a telephone land-line and no internet connection is provided. The flat lacks a microwave and the gas stove sparker and hood fan do not work.
Having finished 'I was Dr Mengele's Assistant' and '5 people you meet in heaven,' I'm currently bragging online about attempting to read five books at once. It's failing miserably, but is fun nonetheless.
1) L. Da Vinci's 'Prophecies'
2) Molecules of death
3) Che Guevara's 'The Motorcycle Diaries'
4) A purpose-driven-life
5) Matters of Life and Death
On a more cheerful note - I now live in a flat with a friend (who shall remain anonymous for his own protection), for those who care to know. We do not have a telephone land-line and no internet connection is provided. The flat lacks a microwave and the gas stove sparker and hood fan do not work.
Having finished 'I was Dr Mengele's Assistant' and '5 people you meet in heaven,' I'm currently bragging online about attempting to read five books at once. It's failing miserably, but is fun nonetheless.
1) L. Da Vinci's 'Prophecies'
2) Molecules of death
3) Che Guevara's 'The Motorcycle Diaries'
4) A purpose-driven-life
5) Matters of Life and Death
Fatigue
Stalactites and stalagmites form gradually over time, with each drop of water bringing yet another dissolved microgram of calcified material that shall some day build a mighty pillar of rock, hanging dagger-like over the tourists who dare to behold its timeless wonder.
Doctors are made, not born. With each passing lecture, tutorial, seminar, practical, dissection one is imbued with that immortal spirit that shapes our final destiny. Yet each day brings a new trial, the temptation to give up and slide off the high and narrow tracks, down the embankment onto a pleasant patch of grass to take a nap - to rest - to slumber - for a while.
Life is tiring, work is hard, the fruits of effort yield the seeds of tomorrow's results. Onwards. To the horizon.
Doctors are made, not born. With each passing lecture, tutorial, seminar, practical, dissection one is imbued with that immortal spirit that shapes our final destiny. Yet each day brings a new trial, the temptation to give up and slide off the high and narrow tracks, down the embankment onto a pleasant patch of grass to take a nap - to rest - to slumber - for a while.
Life is tiring, work is hard, the fruits of effort yield the seeds of tomorrow's results. Onwards. To the horizon.
Friday, October 22, 2004
Jubilation, exultation - happy for a while.
Today is October 22nd, AD 2004. Life is a strange thing - one has to seize a moment and cherish it, all the while knowing that time is flying past and that moment that once seemed so solid will soon be but a fleeting memory.
JH
JH
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Hitchhike 3 !!!!
Dear All,
Reporting from Berlin...I have been informed that my previous posts make me out to sound like a poncy obnoxious overweeningly arrogantly up-myself git......apologies a thousandfold...pls email me.....I'm not infectious.....
Hope you are wonderfully well.
After a day of sightseeing (trying to) Hamburg and tasting the fare on offer at the Schweinske (pig-themed) restaurant, the road has taken us to Berlin. German keyboards are difficult to use...ÜÖÄ€§ßßß....why couldn't they just have an ümlaut key?
It is sometimes difficult searching for youth hostels to overnight in.
Hopefully Berlin will give us plenty to see/do...
We've met a couple of Czech hitchhikers....been recommended to see Auschwitz and some sights in Slovenia etc.....will try....for now, Berlin has plenty to offer.
All the best,
Jason
Reporting from Berlin...I have been informed that my previous posts make me out to sound like a poncy obnoxious overweeningly arrogantly up-myself git......apologies a thousandfold...pls email me.....I'm not infectious.....
Hope you are wonderfully well.
After a day of sightseeing (trying to) Hamburg and tasting the fare on offer at the Schweinske (pig-themed) restaurant, the road has taken us to Berlin. German keyboards are difficult to use...ÜÖÄ€§ßßß....why couldn't they just have an ümlaut key?
It is sometimes difficult searching for youth hostels to overnight in.
Hopefully Berlin will give us plenty to see/do...
We've met a couple of Czech hitchhikers....been recommended to see Auschwitz and some sights in Slovenia etc.....will try....for now, Berlin has plenty to offer.
All the best,
Jason
Friday, September 17, 2004
Hitchhike 2 !!!!
Dear All,
Hope you're all well....
Hurrah for us....
2100 hrs, Friday 18th September, 2004.
Hitched from Amsterdam to Munster (Germany) and thence to Hamburg...am using the internet at the Le Meridien, wherein I am NOT currently residing...our real abode is a motel nearby...
Will be sampling German food tomorrow...eventually intend to reach Berlin, Poland and further (?)...
Adventure beckons, indeed...some very very very kind people have given us lifts AND lunch...lovely Germans...plenty to see/do. Have had some rather interesting conversations.
Visas are not a problem, this being the Schengen visa area.
The audio recordings of the trip are progressing neatly as planned - I feel game for a full multimedia spiel (with book, etc.) eventually. Che & Alberto Granado....motorcycle diaries, anyone? (Presumptuous, I know, but then again....).
That's all for now...
Cheerio,
Jason
Hope you're all well....
Hurrah for us....
2100 hrs, Friday 18th September, 2004.
Hitched from Amsterdam to Munster (Germany) and thence to Hamburg...am using the internet at the Le Meridien, wherein I am NOT currently residing...our real abode is a motel nearby...
Will be sampling German food tomorrow...eventually intend to reach Berlin, Poland and further (?)...
Adventure beckons, indeed...some very very very kind people have given us lifts AND lunch...lovely Germans...plenty to see/do. Have had some rather interesting conversations.
Visas are not a problem, this being the Schengen visa area.
The audio recordings of the trip are progressing neatly as planned - I feel game for a full multimedia spiel (with book, etc.) eventually. Che & Alberto Granado....motorcycle diaries, anyone? (Presumptuous, I know, but then again....).
That's all for now...
Cheerio,
Jason
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Hitchhike 1 !!!!
Hello all....
For those of you that don't know - I'm on holiday hitchhiking with Oliver...will be posting to my blog when possible... http://arrhythmia.blogspot.com/ - Read it!!!!!!
I'm in Utrecht (Holland) right now (got there (1 timezone, three countries) in 2 days!). almost 10am here. One time zone ahead of London.
You may wish to browse through an atlas as you read this.
Tuesday: left London (Mottingham suburb) 9am. --> stuck on road half an hour --> Maidstone suburb --> Canterbury --> offered ride to Dover (arrived noon-ish). No luck with ferry, so bought tickets for delayed 3 o'clock trip (choppy seas forced delay by 3 hrs). Arrived 6-ish Calais. Stuck near motorway 45 mins, got weird ride (crazy, crazy, crazy woman) to Calais centre ... took us to hotel/hostel.
Wednesday: left Calais...stuck near motorway, finally get ride to Lille - given lunch by the driver - his brother is a doctor (GP) who spoke ultra rapid french. They then gave us lift through the city (with a quick tour!) to service station on suburbs of Lille....trying to get somewhere in Belgium...no luck until some Dutch guy gave us a lift all the way to Utrecht, Holland, thereby passing right through Belgium entirely! Found lodgings and watched a movie here. Will tour city in a while.
Oliver decided to write a short children's book (650 words) one afternoon last week and sent it as a bit of fun to a bunch of agents, one of whom replied expressing interest!
So far ... have encountered (as drivers) a female trainee priest, a Nigerian mature student, a bus driver (who has invented the TARGETMASTER - on sale now for 160 pounds... http://www.targetmaster.co.uk/ ) and hopefully many more.....
Am keeping a travel journal....
For reading material: Core Anatomy - Head & Neck....yes, it's good for putting oneself to bed quickly and effectively....
Will try to get to Amsterdam or cross into Germany, Poland, Eastern Europe....Russia?!
Good progress so far......btw - no moustache - I have a shaver with me.....hahaha.
Cheers all,
Jason
For those of you that don't know - I'm on holiday hitchhiking with Oliver...will be posting to my blog when possible... http://arrhythmia.blogspot.com/ - Read it!!!!!!
I'm in Utrecht (Holland) right now (got there (1 timezone, three countries) in 2 days!). almost 10am here. One time zone ahead of London.
You may wish to browse through an atlas as you read this.
Tuesday: left London (Mottingham suburb) 9am. --> stuck on road half an hour --> Maidstone suburb --> Canterbury --> offered ride to Dover (arrived noon-ish). No luck with ferry, so bought tickets for delayed 3 o'clock trip (choppy seas forced delay by 3 hrs). Arrived 6-ish Calais. Stuck near motorway 45 mins, got weird ride (crazy, crazy, crazy woman) to Calais centre ... took us to hotel/hostel.
Wednesday: left Calais...stuck near motorway, finally get ride to Lille - given lunch by the driver - his brother is a doctor (GP) who spoke ultra rapid french. They then gave us lift through the city (with a quick tour!) to service station on suburbs of Lille....trying to get somewhere in Belgium...no luck until some Dutch guy gave us a lift all the way to Utrecht, Holland, thereby passing right through Belgium entirely! Found lodgings and watched a movie here. Will tour city in a while.
Oliver decided to write a short children's book (650 words) one afternoon last week and sent it as a bit of fun to a bunch of agents, one of whom replied expressing interest!
So far ... have encountered (as drivers) a female trainee priest, a Nigerian mature student, a bus driver (who has invented the TARGETMASTER - on sale now for 160 pounds... http://www.targetmaster.co.uk/ ) and hopefully many more.....
Am keeping a travel journal....
For reading material: Core Anatomy - Head & Neck....yes, it's good for putting oneself to bed quickly and effectively....
Will try to get to Amsterdam or cross into Germany, Poland, Eastern Europe....Russia?!
Good progress so far......btw - no moustache - I have a shaver with me.....hahaha.
Cheers all,
Jason
Monday, September 06, 2004
Home-style sashimi
1. Dead fish, sliced - $5.50 for 190g
2. Japanese rice, cooked with sushi vinegar - $5.00 per packet
3. Soy sauce - $1.00 a bottle
4. Seaweed - $2.00 a packet
Taste - priceless.
2. Japanese rice, cooked with sushi vinegar - $5.00 per packet
3. Soy sauce - $1.00 a bottle
4. Seaweed - $2.00 a packet
Taste - priceless.
Monday, June 28, 2004
Tempus fugit
The driver sped away from the gates as the heat died with the afternoon sun. Dark clouds gathered over the craggy limestone peaks ahead as the motorway snaked between rows of plantation palms. A strange ray pierced through as thunder rolled with the onslaught of a summer storm.
An hour before, the scene that followed us to the airport raged in my mind, fired my heart and battled my senses. After dozens of telephone calls and an endlessly postponed wait I knew. I finally knew. I knew - at last.
We waved silently to the five figures standing on the porch, fading into the distance. I held my moment of quiet, a solemn whisper of relief barely breaking the calm around me.
I write not for the present, but for posterity. I live not for the here and now, but for the future. I gaze not into the future, but into the vast expanse of eternity, so that the accomplishments and disappointments of today mellow with the thread of time that weaves a full and blessed life.
An hour before, the scene that followed us to the airport raged in my mind, fired my heart and battled my senses. After dozens of telephone calls and an endlessly postponed wait I knew. I finally knew. I knew - at last.
We waved silently to the five figures standing on the porch, fading into the distance. I held my moment of quiet, a solemn whisper of relief barely breaking the calm around me.
I write not for the present, but for posterity. I live not for the here and now, but for the future. I gaze not into the future, but into the vast expanse of eternity, so that the accomplishments and disappointments of today mellow with the thread of time that weaves a full and blessed life.
Sunday, June 27, 2004
A Longkong is a cross between a Duku and a Langsat...
It is hot. The tropical sun beats down relentlessly as I scuttle for shelter beneath a mango tree. The humidity weighs heavily on my shoulders and the grass crumples under the weight of palm leaves falling. A stone church lies empty as the crowds depart for lunch, clearing the town's jungle-bordered suburbs of all but the faintest echoes of afternoon laziness. No grass is being mowed now; it's just too hot and dogs are barking. Mad dogs. Mad dogs and Englishmen. I suppose the Englishmen left in the dull coolness of the last pink sunset, quite some time ago. The ball of fire that burns shadows onto whitewhashed walls roars o'er a sky as blue as pastel paint, splashed with dots of acrylic white.
The whirring of a dozen fans sweep the cool of air-conditioned rooms but only the shadow of a passing cloud brings a brief respite to this equatorial hothouse. Food is served and the chopsticks are ready; chattering mouths open for slurping noodles. Stately palms sway. I sit securely in the shade, gazing at the sun-soaked patio. Peace. For now. Peace until tomorrow when the sun rises again.
The whirring of a dozen fans sweep the cool of air-conditioned rooms but only the shadow of a passing cloud brings a brief respite to this equatorial hothouse. Food is served and the chopsticks are ready; chattering mouths open for slurping noodles. Stately palms sway. I sit securely in the shade, gazing at the sun-soaked patio. Peace. For now. Peace until tomorrow when the sun rises again.
Saturday, June 26, 2004
Credo
Life is many things to different people. To some it is the string of events that fall in sequence to make up our existence. Some cling to it daily, fearing its end; others seek thrills and adventure. A few spend some of it trying vainly to ponder its meaning, realising too late that the wherewithal from which we drain away each passing minute depends merely on our own insecurities which fuel that strange desire to place a reasonable price on our existence.
I shall not trouble myself to conjure up support clauses for the vague predications made above, depending solely on my arrogant self-belief in the knowledge that any argument over whether I am right or not should merely serve to confirm my basic premise in (more-or-less) its entirety, given that the given is taken as given. Sick, wrong and true - an odd combination for a conclusion, but a conclusion nonetheless.
My line is different. I hold quite dearly to a truth that, betwixt its mellifluously and seemingly non-sensical phrases, seems to rationalise most of my behaviour:
"Know you are mortal; Believe that you are not."
(C) JH, MMIV
NB Knowing = understanding, 'Believing' is used in a more superficial sense.
I shall not trouble myself to conjure up support clauses for the vague predications made above, depending solely on my arrogant self-belief in the knowledge that any argument over whether I am right or not should merely serve to confirm my basic premise in (more-or-less) its entirety, given that the given is taken as given. Sick, wrong and true - an odd combination for a conclusion, but a conclusion nonetheless.
My line is different. I hold quite dearly to a truth that, betwixt its mellifluously and seemingly non-sensical phrases, seems to rationalise most of my behaviour:
"Know you are mortal; Believe that you are not."
(C) JH, MMIV
NB Knowing = understanding, 'Believing' is used in a more superficial sense.
Passing Thoughts
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Lines 73-76
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
The Epitaph
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Lines 73-76
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
The Epitaph
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
Friday, June 25, 2004
Hypertense
I can feel the rush of blood to my head draining my weakening lower limbs. The heart beats fall ectopically as the viscera churn inside. So near, yet so far. Still unfinished and yet to be revealed...
Recent posts (and those to follow) have consisted largely of rather inane ravings. Actually, inane is a peculiarly inept word to describe my feelings at the moment, which cannot be very aptly classified by any conventional terms. Never mind. I've just thought of (what I think is) an amusing phrase..."Always look on the bright side of life...but keep your sunglasses on and don't stare into the bright light or you'll damage your retina and won't be able to see in the dark." Haha, Jason. Not funny at all. Sadly, how true. About everything.
Note to self: don't talk to self; I shall stay a step behind my own mind. It runs faster than I can, but not fast enough for me to understand it!
On a more mundane footing I ought to add that lately my sushi/sashimi consumption has risen four-fold. Apart from the home-made stuff I do visit 'Sushi Tei' in Holland Village for my tri-weekly fix of sushi.
.
Recent posts (and those to follow) have consisted largely of rather inane ravings. Actually, inane is a peculiarly inept word to describe my feelings at the moment, which cannot be very aptly classified by any conventional terms. Never mind. I've just thought of (what I think is) an amusing phrase..."Always look on the bright side of life...but keep your sunglasses on and don't stare into the bright light or you'll damage your retina and won't be able to see in the dark." Haha, Jason. Not funny at all. Sadly, how true. About everything.
Note to self: don't talk to self; I shall stay a step behind my own mind. It runs faster than I can, but not fast enough for me to understand it!
On a more mundane footing I ought to add that lately my sushi/sashimi consumption has risen four-fold. Apart from the home-made stuff I do visit 'Sushi Tei' in Holland Village for my tri-weekly fix of sushi.
.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Musings from the unamused
Hostages have been in the news lately. I suppose, to some extent we are all hostages of some sort. Trapped, like caged animals we wander aimlessly through our daily routines.
At the present moment I am not unhappy with being alive. It would not be better to be dead. The use of the double negative is irritatingly potent but quite necessary in this case. Life presents so many obstacles that don't bear thinking about. Even the eternal optimist would be hard put to not find something unhappy about life. I make no pretence to be a philospher, but if one assumes that life is 'good' then my logic dictates that this must denote the existence of something that is NOT good. Not good, I hear you quip? Not quite, but then again not really. As I mentioned earlier, it would not be better to be dead. I may have changed my mind in 60 hours time, thereby illustrating the transience of life (and, naturally, the concept of 'goodness' that accompanies it).
We live. We die. That is a certainty. We pass, we fail - whether the heavens will a more or less benign fate, we may choose to lie down and accept the thrashing of reality, stooping with each blow of humiliation. We can fail and fall - consigned to the empty vacuum of historical detritus. Dead in all but name before the first fight has finished.
Or we can rise. The oppressed shall resurrect their dignity and stumble no longer. Yea, the fallen shall rise again and cast of the chains that bind them to the steel-capped spokes of life's Catherine wheel. We may be beaten down, but we shall NEVER be vanquished, e'er the faintest trickle shall drain the fount of life - we shall prevail o'er our foes, and victory, like the rays blood-red dawn will cast her avenging hand to smite the enemy. Fear not, fail not, for the day of judgement is at hand and we shall prevail!
At the present moment I am not unhappy with being alive. It would not be better to be dead. The use of the double negative is irritatingly potent but quite necessary in this case. Life presents so many obstacles that don't bear thinking about. Even the eternal optimist would be hard put to not find something unhappy about life. I make no pretence to be a philospher, but if one assumes that life is 'good' then my logic dictates that this must denote the existence of something that is NOT good. Not good, I hear you quip? Not quite, but then again not really. As I mentioned earlier, it would not be better to be dead. I may have changed my mind in 60 hours time, thereby illustrating the transience of life (and, naturally, the concept of 'goodness' that accompanies it).
We live. We die. That is a certainty. We pass, we fail - whether the heavens will a more or less benign fate, we may choose to lie down and accept the thrashing of reality, stooping with each blow of humiliation. We can fail and fall - consigned to the empty vacuum of historical detritus. Dead in all but name before the first fight has finished.
Or we can rise. The oppressed shall resurrect their dignity and stumble no longer. Yea, the fallen shall rise again and cast of the chains that bind them to the steel-capped spokes of life's Catherine wheel. We may be beaten down, but we shall NEVER be vanquished, e'er the faintest trickle shall drain the fount of life - we shall prevail o'er our foes, and victory, like the rays blood-red dawn will cast her avenging hand to smite the enemy. Fear not, fail not, for the day of judgement is at hand and we shall prevail!
Thursday, June 17, 2004
From Hell
The long nightmare is over. The veil of darkness has been lifted and the evil shadow that had befallen the land was finally defeated. Life was renewed; friendships remade; the broken were made whole again. As the dawn of a new day broke and a pure light streamed from the heavens, the hobbits paused to ponder how close to disaster Middle-Earth had come - and yet - and yet! The evil foe had been vanquished and from the rubble came a new hope. Victory had smiled upon the hobbits today. From death, through hell, by sacrificing blood, sweath, toil and tears they now had hope. A better hope. A hope for the future that transcends the pain of the past. Truly, they were free. Free at last!
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Monologues
Random insertion: I seem to have developed a fascination for 'pep-talk' style monologues. They deliver that temporary burst of inspiration needed by the less than inspired.
Today shall see me traipsing off to the public library nearby to exercise my right to vote. Although not a citizen of this country I am, by some esoteric quirk of the political system accorded voting privileges as a legal resident. An interesting consequence will be that this makes me the first member of my immediate family to cast a political vote. Ever. Granted, I have an uncle who was an MP in my home country and some of my uncles/aunts vote, but my own parents have either never been accorded voting rights or have never elected to use them.
Revision has dulled my senses - alas, not like an opiate, but rather more like a lethal dose of a barbiturate mixture. One would be doing it a disservice to compare the onset of mental strangulation brought about by such intolerable frustration to euthanasia. Indeed, there is no 'fallback' for those at the back.
In other news...Ronald Reagan is now deceased. One can only hazard a guess...
1a Pneumonia
1b
11 Alzheimer's disease ?!?
Today shall see me traipsing off to the public library nearby to exercise my right to vote. Although not a citizen of this country I am, by some esoteric quirk of the political system accorded voting privileges as a legal resident. An interesting consequence will be that this makes me the first member of my immediate family to cast a political vote. Ever. Granted, I have an uncle who was an MP in my home country and some of my uncles/aunts vote, but my own parents have either never been accorded voting rights or have never elected to use them.
Revision has dulled my senses - alas, not like an opiate, but rather more like a lethal dose of a barbiturate mixture. One would be doing it a disservice to compare the onset of mental strangulation brought about by such intolerable frustration to euthanasia. Indeed, there is no 'fallback' for those at the back.
In other news...Ronald Reagan is now deceased. One can only hazard a guess...
1a Pneumonia
1b
11 Alzheimer's disease ?!?
Friday, May 28, 2004
R&R
It is difficult to write with so many ideas and emotions swirling in a haze of confusion. Much has been accomplished - still more is yet to come after what has been left behind. The path before continues to a crossroads but beyond that one can only hazard a wild guess. I think faster than I am able to write, hence the apparent incoherence in my stream of thought. This week has seen several events, more than I can care to remember. As I search for a new home for next year I muse over whether 'next year' itself will ever become a reality. Summer has crept up like an unexpected guest, welcome but unprepared. Indeed, unprepared is the crux of the matter, ladies and gentlemen. Alas, the end is precipitously near, and, whatever lies ahead certainly does not lie easily with the uncertain unease I feel right now.
As to more mundane minutiae: 'suffering' seems to be the order of the day and, accordingly, one attempts valiantly to deny oneself simple pleasures like ice-cream, parties and movies in the company of one's friends.
"O, puritan, cast off thy grey mantle of dread and rejoin the living!"
"Nay, tempter - drop thy snares and stay thy deceitful slurs of envy."
Fail me not, for I have been faithful.
Erk. Now get me an aspirin, quick.
I feel you feel her. She feels. We feel you (pl.) feel them. Keep feeling; before too long this charade will fail as all things must. Feel clean.
Goodness me, look at the time. Mr Monkhouse seeks company with Champe & Harvey...
JH
As to more mundane minutiae: 'suffering' seems to be the order of the day and, accordingly, one attempts valiantly to deny oneself simple pleasures like ice-cream, parties and movies in the company of one's friends.
"O, puritan, cast off thy grey mantle of dread and rejoin the living!"
"Nay, tempter - drop thy snares and stay thy deceitful slurs of envy."
Fail me not, for I have been faithful.
Erk. Now get me an aspirin, quick.
I feel you feel her. She feels. We feel you (pl.) feel them. Keep feeling; before too long this charade will fail as all things must. Feel clean.
Goodness me, look at the time. Mr Monkhouse seeks company with Champe & Harvey...
JH
Saturday, May 08, 2004
Saga
I am slowly losing my grip on sanity. My grasp of reality is starting to slip. I am sitting between stacks of books and a computer, staring out of a library window to an outside world so dark that the glass pane merely reflects my own morose image against the fluorescence of the ceiling lights. Yes, I am studying. No, it is not immensely pleasurable. Yes, it is necessary. No, I should not be wasting time to write this. In one hour, today will be all but forgotten by tomorrow. Future is but a passing present, presently fading to the past.
Friday, April 30, 2004
Inspiration
It has been a while since I last breathed life into this blog. Since then, much has happened.
Holidays, revision and exams have flitted past, as have meetings with friends and old acquaintances. Too soon a new day brings the dark dawn of year-end exams closer - such thoughts become more insidious as the days wear on. Despite the oppressive cloud of worrisome exams looming overhead, the overcast sky parts its worry-laced clouds every now and then to pour forth a burst of happy sunshine. Good weather greeted my return to this isle and I trust more of the same will hover near in the days ahead.
Oh, for the carefree days of youth! Nought but a passing frenzy is this life and when our hectic footsteps slow to the dull sodden tread that falls heavily on the damp ground below, we shall ache for calmer times, yearning for lost days.
I went to the gym on Tuesday, a marked change from routine. I think I shall go again, tomorrow.
As night descends I have resolved to depart for the library to seek enlightenment within the confines of that guarded sanctum of hidden knowledge.
When next a revelation lights the fires of my mind, I shall write again. Until then, Adieu.
Holidays, revision and exams have flitted past, as have meetings with friends and old acquaintances. Too soon a new day brings the dark dawn of year-end exams closer - such thoughts become more insidious as the days wear on. Despite the oppressive cloud of worrisome exams looming overhead, the overcast sky parts its worry-laced clouds every now and then to pour forth a burst of happy sunshine. Good weather greeted my return to this isle and I trust more of the same will hover near in the days ahead.
Oh, for the carefree days of youth! Nought but a passing frenzy is this life and when our hectic footsteps slow to the dull sodden tread that falls heavily on the damp ground below, we shall ache for calmer times, yearning for lost days.
I went to the gym on Tuesday, a marked change from routine. I think I shall go again, tomorrow.
As night descends I have resolved to depart for the library to seek enlightenment within the confines of that guarded sanctum of hidden knowledge.
When next a revelation lights the fires of my mind, I shall write again. Until then, Adieu.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Onions and Pillboxes
After a prolonged absence, I write again.
Yesterday was the Imperial College University Challenge selection finals. I placed 5th (after a heated final play-off), making me the team reserve. Not bad, I suppose, but I shall return next year provided I don't ever appear on live TV. A rather good experience, mind you - I don't remember any of the questions, but my answers of 'onions' and 'pillboxes' will remain buried in my mind forever. (The correct answers were definitely-not-onions and allotments).
A PBL (Problem Based Learning) exam is scheduled for Friday, after which I shall view 'The Passion of the Christ' by Mel Gibson.
Saturday will find me flying off to Switzerland until next Wednesday, the day after which I return to Singapore. Hurrah - time for...revision. The Swiss trip should be a welcome break, though.
This post has been rather mundane - there's no life in these fingers at the moment. They feel claudicated. Or perhaps it's the brain that can't bring itself to spew forth some philosophically-incorrect annoying political invective. Regardless, we plod on. To tomorrow, a day that's always hanging over you but never seems to come.
JH
Yesterday was the Imperial College University Challenge selection finals. I placed 5th (after a heated final play-off), making me the team reserve. Not bad, I suppose, but I shall return next year provided I don't ever appear on live TV. A rather good experience, mind you - I don't remember any of the questions, but my answers of 'onions' and 'pillboxes' will remain buried in my mind forever. (The correct answers were definitely-not-onions and allotments).
A PBL (Problem Based Learning) exam is scheduled for Friday, after which I shall view 'The Passion of the Christ' by Mel Gibson.
Saturday will find me flying off to Switzerland until next Wednesday, the day after which I return to Singapore. Hurrah - time for...revision. The Swiss trip should be a welcome break, though.
This post has been rather mundane - there's no life in these fingers at the moment. They feel claudicated. Or perhaps it's the brain that can't bring itself to spew forth some philosophically-incorrect annoying political invective. Regardless, we plod on. To tomorrow, a day that's always hanging over you but never seems to come.
JH
Thursday, March 11, 2004
I fear, you fear, he fears...
So much for trying not to write about my self-obsessive personality...I'll try to rant some other time. For now, we carry on with my infinitely verbose ponderings on the meaning of life...
Today's little sermon on FEAR. Hurrah - I feel like such a 'wannabe'...
I fear I've just realised what drives many people. Amongst other things, I'd say the prime motivating force is fear - the fear of regret. Sure, we may run the rat race (envy, fear of being left behind, greed etc.) and some high-minded individuals may climb to the top of the pyramid and declaim that their success is the result of deriving satisfaction from a job well done. Such is the folly of liberal opinion. We may aim to achieve greatness because we either have something/someone for which/whom we labour, but that too derives from the fear of failure - of causing dissapointment and losing trust. Perhaps we toil to gain recognition in the eyes of our peers; this too is the byproduct of a desire not to be 'just one of them.'
So much for the nobility, courage, valour and fraternity of the human spirit, you say? Not quite - thesauri list several such glorious adjectives as the antonyms of fear, but I wish to expand and tweak that just a little. Fear has a good side. Like pain, it drives us from doing something we know instinctively to be 'wrong,' unworthy, or at least undesirable. The fear of doing evil. Likewise: the fear of failure lights that burning spark that turns into a blaze of effort in 'going for broke.' When all is said and done, I hope to be judged by what I do, than by what I don't do. Inspiring fear never quenched the human desire to try, because the price of failure is eternal fear of being vanquished by that which we cannot overcome. In short, I fear we must prevail. To fear no longer is to achieve.
Today's little sermon on FEAR. Hurrah - I feel like such a 'wannabe'...
I fear I've just realised what drives many people. Amongst other things, I'd say the prime motivating force is fear - the fear of regret. Sure, we may run the rat race (envy, fear of being left behind, greed etc.) and some high-minded individuals may climb to the top of the pyramid and declaim that their success is the result of deriving satisfaction from a job well done. Such is the folly of liberal opinion. We may aim to achieve greatness because we either have something/someone for which/whom we labour, but that too derives from the fear of failure - of causing dissapointment and losing trust. Perhaps we toil to gain recognition in the eyes of our peers; this too is the byproduct of a desire not to be 'just one of them.'
So much for the nobility, courage, valour and fraternity of the human spirit, you say? Not quite - thesauri list several such glorious adjectives as the antonyms of fear, but I wish to expand and tweak that just a little. Fear has a good side. Like pain, it drives us from doing something we know instinctively to be 'wrong,' unworthy, or at least undesirable. The fear of doing evil. Likewise: the fear of failure lights that burning spark that turns into a blaze of effort in 'going for broke.' When all is said and done, I hope to be judged by what I do, than by what I don't do. Inspiring fear never quenched the human desire to try, because the price of failure is eternal fear of being vanquished by that which we cannot overcome. In short, I fear we must prevail. To fear no longer is to achieve.
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis
Days pass quickly now. It feels like barely a week ago that darkness still descended a tad too early for my liking, but now the sky holds light much longer. The whirlwind of time seems to rush by around us, whether we move from square one or not.
I've lately been wondering about my own competence. More specifically, questioning whether I've been 'losing sight' of the big picture. 'Mental incontinence,' I call it - when I actually spend time wondering about my own wonderings and whether the balance sheet hasn't been trampled by my wandering thoughts. In fact, I often reach a level (e.g. now) when the stream of mental diarrhoea becomes completely incoherent to a sane person, who would probably label me a 'poncy git.'
What might have triggered such intense soul-searching?
As with all things, let's revisit the basics. Hobbits. Sentimentalism. A borrowed CD of the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. Ahhhh...the pieces of the puzzle suddenly seem to materialise. Specifically, "Track 17: The breaking of the fellowship (In Dreams)" with that really hauntingly beautiful ending sung by Edward Ross.
When the cold of winter comes
Starless night will cover day
In the veiling of the sun
We will walk in bitter rain
But in dreams
I can hear your name
And in dreams
We will meet again
When the seas and mountains fall
And we come, to end of days
In the dark I hear a call
Calling me there,
I will go there
And back again
The lyrics might not make any sense to you, but at this present time they are a balm to my completely scrunched up mental state. Unfortunately, this analgesic seems to inflame my thoughts even more...
My next post shall be decidedly less self-expository. Perhaps a good old gripe about something will make for a welcome change...
I've lately been wondering about my own competence. More specifically, questioning whether I've been 'losing sight' of the big picture. 'Mental incontinence,' I call it - when I actually spend time wondering about my own wonderings and whether the balance sheet hasn't been trampled by my wandering thoughts. In fact, I often reach a level (e.g. now) when the stream of mental diarrhoea becomes completely incoherent to a sane person, who would probably label me a 'poncy git.'
What might have triggered such intense soul-searching?
As with all things, let's revisit the basics. Hobbits. Sentimentalism. A borrowed CD of the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. Ahhhh...the pieces of the puzzle suddenly seem to materialise. Specifically, "Track 17: The breaking of the fellowship (In Dreams)" with that really hauntingly beautiful ending sung by Edward Ross.
When the cold of winter comes
Starless night will cover day
In the veiling of the sun
We will walk in bitter rain
But in dreams
I can hear your name
And in dreams
We will meet again
When the seas and mountains fall
And we come, to end of days
In the dark I hear a call
Calling me there,
I will go there
And back again
The lyrics might not make any sense to you, but at this present time they are a balm to my completely scrunched up mental state. Unfortunately, this analgesic seems to inflame my thoughts even more...
My next post shall be decidedly less self-expository. Perhaps a good old gripe about something will make for a welcome change...
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Unfortunately, I feel an urge to start this blog with the word unfortunately...I suppose it's some primordial brain-wiring that's geared me into pessimist-mode for a good part of the past decade...
Having come across numerous interesting 'blogs on the 'web I've finally decided to launch off...eventually hoping to string together a nice domain with some nifty layouts, but more on that later...for now, let's take inspiration from http://www.nehal-parmar.co.uk...
I was going through an essay a couple of nights ago and as the creeping hours drained the blood from my brain strange thoughts assaulted my mind. I kept seeing parallel realities, but they seemed to lapse before I could mentally process an emotional/analytical reaction to them. No, it's not daydreaming, although I'll accept 'fatigue' as you final answer...strange, though. That inspired a little 5-liner that sounds as disjointed as my thoughts were that night...
It came upon the midnight clear
Unholy vision, or veneer?
Thought portentously sublime
At such unholy hour appointed
Soon lost to fleeing time.
Work and bed beckon, and I obey.
JH
Having come across numerous interesting 'blogs on the 'web I've finally decided to launch off...eventually hoping to string together a nice domain with some nifty layouts, but more on that later...for now, let's take inspiration from http://www.nehal-parmar.co.uk...
I was going through an essay a couple of nights ago and as the creeping hours drained the blood from my brain strange thoughts assaulted my mind. I kept seeing parallel realities, but they seemed to lapse before I could mentally process an emotional/analytical reaction to them. No, it's not daydreaming, although I'll accept 'fatigue' as you final answer...strange, though. That inspired a little 5-liner that sounds as disjointed as my thoughts were that night...
It came upon the midnight clear
Unholy vision, or veneer?
Thought portentously sublime
At such unholy hour appointed
Soon lost to fleeing time.
Work and bed beckon, and I obey.
JH
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