Everybody’s Got Something To Hide But Me and my Monkey – The Beatles

i always thought i was one of the most random people around but i suppose the beatles really own my face.

Two Weeks – Grizzly Bear

rachael sent this to me two hours ago, and in two weeks time i will be done with school, and in another two weeks i will be back in singapore; and at the end of it all, there really is no place like home.

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there are many things to say, but it is slightly overwhelming in its enormity, suffice to say that i have changed, and grown, and i think it is a good thing.  make decisions, pak shu hwa, learn from mistakes, be a better person.

Sultans of Swing – Dire Straits

there’s words, there’s love but there’s always time.

somewhere along the way, i think i have forgotten to love and i am not sure when this began but there’s a certain sense of apathy towards most things which i cannot exactly trace back to. it’s disturbing, this abject lack of intensity, and i think it is almost sad that a previously ferocious pursuit for love has been replaced by such a recess, but how many times can an ember be rekindled? yesterday lucka asked me to go to america with her, i said no, and she just flippantly tossed in ross’ name in order to elicit a reaction from me but i just smiled in disdain; is that what things boil down to, a wordplay of sorts, a game of brinkmanship? it has to stop here, it has to stop here, and i am tired of waiting for you, for you, for everyone. i have to start living for myself, i should start living for myself and stop giving my heart out like an empty bottle, for you to write messages in before hurling it to sea, to sea.

What Were the Chances – Damien Jurado

there is something salient about rain and i suppose it is probably because it reminds me of home most; more than food, which is fleeting, transient, consumable, there is an unspoken contract with the soft patter of water droplets; it is the same, whereever i am, and that is a constancy which soothes and reassures. it is the same, me, words, rain, and a solace in solitude.

it’s a whole life i have had, and i don’t remember what it was, was the sad encapsulation of benjamin button, and to a certain extent, i feel a little of that everyday; you forget a little of your past on a daily basis, you dont get as excited as you once were when you see the world, so what incandescence is there left?

we’re all telling stories from different perspectives, but what happens when we retread on similar pathways; is it our story any longer; can we claim ownership of it? everything fades, yellows, disappears.

Little Favours – KT Tunstall

it is spring, the colours are verdant and magnolia, and two days ago it snowed on leysin. yesterday i met jean-pierre before he left for his new job and it was thoroughly enjoyable as we talked about knives, tripes, the swiss and their silly dietary habits, and today, this morning, i had a surreal dream of college posting day all over again. it was good, it was pleasant, but still one cannot turn back time in that respect.

it has been a month since i last put a figurative pen to cyber paper and in that time i had travelled to budapest and prague, and risked whistles of derisions when i said i preferred the former to the latter; but why not, there was no praguian equivalent of tokaji (there was pilsner) nor anything remotely touching gooseliver (there was pork knuckles) and if it is one thing i realised, i travel around more for food than for sights (unless it’s the sagrada familiar, but there are always tapas) which probably demonstrates the essentia of being a singaporean as we traipse around pieces of land.

dandelion or pissenlit in french, jean-pierre told me, was a flower which would grow first in spring whereupon the swiss would blanch it and serve it with leaves and olive oil and vinegar, and i told him, a dandelion wine is where you take the dandelions and ferment it, just like a wine. i never felt a need to explain this title, but it’s just pretty.