Monday, March 29, 2010
Man..
"Man is certainly an animal that, when he lives at all, lives for ideals. Something must be found to occupy his imagination, to raise pleasure and pain into love and hatred, and change the prosaic alternative between comfort and discomfort into the tragic one between happiness and sorrow." ~~~Santayana
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Girlfriends
I wish we knew each other better
Spend more time quite naturally.. as friends.
Then we can talk about a lot of stuffs;
you name it: nail polish, hair mask, eyeshadow and all girlie stuffs
or talk with me about arts and the beauty of writings
that of Jane austen and Emily bronte or even Kiran Desai
or ponder upon Socrates' and Plato's debates
to increase our wisdom.. to match any professors, rofl
or whisk me in seasons of Heroes
and bask in Dr. House's sarcasm overnight
or if you like let's cook pasta together
and seriously i can sauteed a salmon to perfection
near perfection... actually
and you can even share your obsession
on tango or contemporary dance
and i'll accompany you to strum that guitar
when you have a song u are dying to sing
and i'll teman u to charles & keith too
to relinquish the urge to get that pumps
and we can exchange the shawls on different day
so we can mix and match the colors
and yes, count me in as ur swimming buddy
or if u insist, we can do yoga together one day.
You can even introduce your other frens to me
those that are different in color or culture
i promise i'll be nice to them.
coz i do cherish our relationships
our frenships.
i really do,
perhaps i didn't talk as much
just wish i knew u better
and u knew me the same.
Spend more time quite naturally.. as friends.
Then we can talk about a lot of stuffs;
you name it: nail polish, hair mask, eyeshadow and all girlie stuffs
or talk with me about arts and the beauty of writings
that of Jane austen and Emily bronte or even Kiran Desai
or ponder upon Socrates' and Plato's debates
to increase our wisdom.. to match any professors, rofl
or whisk me in seasons of Heroes
and bask in Dr. House's sarcasm overnight
or if you like let's cook pasta together
and seriously i can sauteed a salmon to perfection
near perfection... actually
and you can even share your obsession
on tango or contemporary dance
and i'll accompany you to strum that guitar
when you have a song u are dying to sing
and i'll teman u to charles & keith too
to relinquish the urge to get that pumps
and we can exchange the shawls on different day
so we can mix and match the colors
and yes, count me in as ur swimming buddy
or if u insist, we can do yoga together one day.
You can even introduce your other frens to me
those that are different in color or culture
i promise i'll be nice to them.
coz i do cherish our relationships
our frenships.
i really do,
perhaps i didn't talk as much
just wish i knew u better
and u knew me the same.
My interpretation of a story...(version 1)
“You can do it, Tim.” He whispered.
Half crawling, panting, he then opted to lie still on the grass-covered pavement and stared almost mechanically at the night sky; sprinkled with white stars. Countless stars. Like his deeds, which was not quite as white.
2 years ago
Tim was sprawled on his king-sized bed, legs spread wide and arms folded behind his head as he looked at nothing and smiled. He was reminiscing, proud of his afternoon accomplishment that sealed him a deal with one of the brightest and most notorious business-men in town. A great deal it was. It took him months and finally, his dad agreed to give him part of his share and within seconds, Tim was a rich man, with fortune of his own, his very own.
“I’ve got a plan. Just give me the money, dad.” Tim said.
“Shut up, Tim. This isn’t charity. You want the money, you gotta earn it!” Danny, the brother, said. “Besides, don’t joke us around with your ‘plan’. Your word is as good as your history. We know you never cared for the family fortune.”
Their father said nothing.
“Remember mom, dad. You promised, you promised her.” Tim added, and in the next second he knew he just uttered the golden word. The sudden tears confirmed it and old Mr. Cunningham took and signed the paper almost immediately.
“Don’t come back, son. You go your way. You’ve made your choice.”
Tim wouldn’t slow down now that the first plan was ticked. He had informed Sarah who agreed instantly to his proposal of going away to another town with him. We’ll have fun, he promised.
He hadn’t eaten for days and was thankful for a bottle of water given by an old beggar that passed him by. He insisted to walk alone along the long silent road refusing further assistance offered. Now, lying on his back, he started counting the stars when he heard his stomach growled, again.
A year ago
Sarah didn’t answer his phone. She had left a month ago with no news; except for the amounting credit card bills left on their dusty dining table. The last time he saw her was the night he returned home and told her he lost at the casino. A hundred grand. But he’ll gain it back he promised. She believed in him, she said.
He pushed himself up, took a few steps before he toppled down. He crawled slowly, the hard cement brushing abrasively on his dirty palms. He could hear only the sound of his breath and the night wind in the silence. His bare feet were cold and his hands rubbed them aggressively to generate some heat, reminding him of the leather shoes he sold for a meal few days ago. It was a cold night.
6 months ago.
“I’m sorry Mr. Tim. But you have to evacuate the place soon. We have given you three months grace and you still could not pay the rent. We have a new tenant now.” The message on the notice letter was printed in bold.
Tim had no more money in his account and all he had was thinning cash in his pocket. Luck was not in his side, he grumbled. The past visits to casino were unfruitful and he always left poorer than when he came. But he’ll visit again the next day. He wanted to borrow some money, but he had no friends. No more friends.
He could sense water running down his nostrils and slowly wiped it with his thin shirt. His eyes were watery and slowly, he sobbed. Even then, he could smell the stench of his body, filthy and unshaven. He pushed himself again, driven by the thread-like hope of at least knowing where to go now.
1 month ago.
“Take it Tim. Don’t come back. The boss would kick you.” Andy, his colleague in McDonald, said. “Just take this few bucks and leave.”
Tim thought to himself, “I’ve got nowhere to go now...could I …. dad could as well hire me as his driver or servant and I’ll still be better off than this ….”
Mr. Cunningham was seated in his study room with a cup of coffee and a piece of apple custard, a routine he had for more than 40 years. He was reading that a new stock acquisition was done by a rival company when a knock on his study room was heard. Nobody knocked his study room in the morning.
“What is it?” He asked.
Mr. Peroni strode in with a nervous smile. “I brought you extra sugar for your coffee, sir.”
“I never need any, Mr. Peroni. And you should be fully aware of it by now.” His eyebrow was half raised.
“It’s just sir, there was a man outside the house. He… was not very conscious, sir and quite unshaven and not very clean……”
“So, shall I advise you to shower him, then?....Gimme a break Peroni. You could settle this beggar without my advice couldn’t you…give him some pennies and send him off as usual. Goodness Peroni, are you getting older now that I find you not quite as sharp?”
“It’s just ..sir. If my eyes hadn’t fail me, he looked like Tim, sir.” Mr. Peroni managed.
Mr. Cunningham stood from his seat, ran to the door and saw the man lying down on the front porch of his garden. He knew instantly that was Tim from the same mole on his forehead since he first saw him as a baby. He hugged him and kissed his son, his beloved son. Tim opened his eyes,” I’m sorry dad. I’m dirty and unworthy. I’ll work as your servant from now on.”
Mr. Cunningham instead shouted for his servants to prepare the best suit for Tim and washed him clean. He called for a feast and prepared the most expensive beef to be served for his son.
Danny then strolled in to find out of the commotion. Upset, he argued.
“He, had just squandered your fortune, dad and now, he came back with nothing and expects to get every thing again? Dad, this isn’t how the game is played. You taught me to be responsible for my life. And now, what’s this? He didn’t work a penny for you and now, you’re giving him back everything?”
“Son, you are always with me, whatever I have is yours. But your brother, he was once gone and now is back. I don’t care what he’d done, but he is still your brother…my son. ”
Yep...It's the prodigal son.
Half crawling, panting, he then opted to lie still on the grass-covered pavement and stared almost mechanically at the night sky; sprinkled with white stars. Countless stars. Like his deeds, which was not quite as white.
2 years ago
Tim was sprawled on his king-sized bed, legs spread wide and arms folded behind his head as he looked at nothing and smiled. He was reminiscing, proud of his afternoon accomplishment that sealed him a deal with one of the brightest and most notorious business-men in town. A great deal it was. It took him months and finally, his dad agreed to give him part of his share and within seconds, Tim was a rich man, with fortune of his own, his very own.
“I’ve got a plan. Just give me the money, dad.” Tim said.
“Shut up, Tim. This isn’t charity. You want the money, you gotta earn it!” Danny, the brother, said. “Besides, don’t joke us around with your ‘plan’. Your word is as good as your history. We know you never cared for the family fortune.”
Their father said nothing.
“Remember mom, dad. You promised, you promised her.” Tim added, and in the next second he knew he just uttered the golden word. The sudden tears confirmed it and old Mr. Cunningham took and signed the paper almost immediately.
“Don’t come back, son. You go your way. You’ve made your choice.”
Tim wouldn’t slow down now that the first plan was ticked. He had informed Sarah who agreed instantly to his proposal of going away to another town with him. We’ll have fun, he promised.
He hadn’t eaten for days and was thankful for a bottle of water given by an old beggar that passed him by. He insisted to walk alone along the long silent road refusing further assistance offered. Now, lying on his back, he started counting the stars when he heard his stomach growled, again.
A year ago
Sarah didn’t answer his phone. She had left a month ago with no news; except for the amounting credit card bills left on their dusty dining table. The last time he saw her was the night he returned home and told her he lost at the casino. A hundred grand. But he’ll gain it back he promised. She believed in him, she said.
He pushed himself up, took a few steps before he toppled down. He crawled slowly, the hard cement brushing abrasively on his dirty palms. He could hear only the sound of his breath and the night wind in the silence. His bare feet were cold and his hands rubbed them aggressively to generate some heat, reminding him of the leather shoes he sold for a meal few days ago. It was a cold night.
6 months ago.
“I’m sorry Mr. Tim. But you have to evacuate the place soon. We have given you three months grace and you still could not pay the rent. We have a new tenant now.” The message on the notice letter was printed in bold.
Tim had no more money in his account and all he had was thinning cash in his pocket. Luck was not in his side, he grumbled. The past visits to casino were unfruitful and he always left poorer than when he came. But he’ll visit again the next day. He wanted to borrow some money, but he had no friends. No more friends.
He could sense water running down his nostrils and slowly wiped it with his thin shirt. His eyes were watery and slowly, he sobbed. Even then, he could smell the stench of his body, filthy and unshaven. He pushed himself again, driven by the thread-like hope of at least knowing where to go now.
1 month ago.
“Take it Tim. Don’t come back. The boss would kick you.” Andy, his colleague in McDonald, said. “Just take this few bucks and leave.”
Tim thought to himself, “I’ve got nowhere to go now...could I …. dad could as well hire me as his driver or servant and I’ll still be better off than this ….”
Mr. Cunningham was seated in his study room with a cup of coffee and a piece of apple custard, a routine he had for more than 40 years. He was reading that a new stock acquisition was done by a rival company when a knock on his study room was heard. Nobody knocked his study room in the morning.
“What is it?” He asked.
Mr. Peroni strode in with a nervous smile. “I brought you extra sugar for your coffee, sir.”
“I never need any, Mr. Peroni. And you should be fully aware of it by now.” His eyebrow was half raised.
“It’s just sir, there was a man outside the house. He… was not very conscious, sir and quite unshaven and not very clean……”
“So, shall I advise you to shower him, then?....Gimme a break Peroni. You could settle this beggar without my advice couldn’t you…give him some pennies and send him off as usual. Goodness Peroni, are you getting older now that I find you not quite as sharp?”
“It’s just ..sir. If my eyes hadn’t fail me, he looked like Tim, sir.” Mr. Peroni managed.
Mr. Cunningham stood from his seat, ran to the door and saw the man lying down on the front porch of his garden. He knew instantly that was Tim from the same mole on his forehead since he first saw him as a baby. He hugged him and kissed his son, his beloved son. Tim opened his eyes,” I’m sorry dad. I’m dirty and unworthy. I’ll work as your servant from now on.”
Mr. Cunningham instead shouted for his servants to prepare the best suit for Tim and washed him clean. He called for a feast and prepared the most expensive beef to be served for his son.
Danny then strolled in to find out of the commotion. Upset, he argued.
“He, had just squandered your fortune, dad and now, he came back with nothing and expects to get every thing again? Dad, this isn’t how the game is played. You taught me to be responsible for my life. And now, what’s this? He didn’t work a penny for you and now, you’re giving him back everything?”
“Son, you are always with me, whatever I have is yours. But your brother, he was once gone and now is back. I don’t care what he’d done, but he is still your brother…my son. ”
Yep...It's the prodigal son.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Reading..
...And tonight, at least for the night, i have my green cup filled with warm chrysanthemum tea matched tenderly with slow jazzy Ituana; both teamed to merely soothe my soring throat, and they made me feel good.
Monday, March 15, 2010
First love
It is like breath of fresh air wafting through the atmosphere that evokes a certain sense of excitement, of joy and assurance. From where, pieces of past miseries faded into misty air, dissolved into ethereal cloud. As though scales on my eyes dropped by themselves and then I see You once more..... and I know, I have fallen in love again.
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