i was at the computer when i saw an orange kite rise up very rapidly over the field beside my house. i watched as it hovered at around the level of my house (21st floor) before rising again to what seemed like more than twice that height.
it was the first time i've seen such a powerful attempt at kite-flying in my neighbourhood. usually the people that do it don't even manage 5 stories. might be the wind from the impending storm, i thought.
i then tried to find the pro fellow whom i assumed was doing it from the field, but i didn't see anyone, probably because my view was blocked.
the kite then moved directly away from where i was, before slowly making its way to my right over another block of flats. by this time it was easily 50 floors up and i wondered just how long was the guy's kite-string for it to cover such a great distance.
soon, the kite had moved right-wards way too far for it to be possible that it was flown from the field, but at the same time, it was not possible for it to be from anywhere due to the kite's position and the height of the buildings around here.
for a moment, i considered the possibility that the string had broke and the kite was just being blown away, but then i realised that it would end up like something i saw earlier, newspapers thrashing around in the wind. not something that was obviously in a controlled and gradual movement.
so what the heck was going on? before long, the kite had gone out of view of my window and i had to go into the living room to see it, and soon was totally out of my view. this meant that the kite had made a wide arc of over 180 degrees and counting, and probably covered a lateral distance of over 600m.
no matter how i think about it, it just doesn't make any sense. one possibility was that it was flown from a building, but that's quite impossible judging from the flight path.
another would be that guy was walking his kite like a fecking dog, but that too is rather improbable since he'd have to be bringing his string away from trees and lampposts, both of which are abundant along the only paths available here.
recently i was looking at a friend's photo album on fb. there was a long series of photos of the sunset on a beach resort somewhere. the scene was beautiful, but looking at the photos one after another, each probably taken seconds apart, i started to feel that they lost their meaning and their feeling.
whenever i see such series of photos, everything just looks like a test shot, there is no final product, like the photographer is just trying his luck with the photos and even if one turns out great, i'll feel that it's just an inevitability. at the end of everything they should just make up their mind and choose one.
the kind of photographs i like to look at are those taken without any context. just individual shots, nothing to compare with, no chance to say if it's better or worse. it is just there as it is and therefore it's perfect.
a few nights ago a dreamt that i died, twice in a row. 2 dreams, 2 deaths.
in the first, i was blasted in the face with a shotgun after a long gunfight. suddenly my enemy appeared and pointed a shotgun right in my face. BANG! and i almost jumped out of bed like what they always show in the movies.
i went back to sleep and immediately had the second dream. i was having a knife fight (damn dramatic dreams, i know) and i managed to push my enemy away, but out of nowhere a little girl ran towards me with freddy kreuger gloves.
i tried to grab her but she passed right through my arms because she was a ghost, and then stabbed me in the chest with her freddy-gloves (seems that she can touch me but not the other way round).
yesterday my maid got sent home for good, finally ending her reign of terror in my house. my mother finally had enough of her when she found out she was lying about some stuff while still trying to act blur the whole time.
she had about a week's notice, and during this time i sometimes felt quite unsafe because i've always thought that she was one who had little control over herself (aka crazy). that's why i feared for my life. who knows when she'll lose control and do a little teckwhye chainsaw massacre of her own?
but why did i think she was crazy? 99% of the time here she behaved like a little mouse hiding from my cat, whispering when she spoke to us and basically trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. well that's fine with me, but how about the remaining 1%?
the other 1% of the time (which only happened when she was on the phone), she would laugh and scream with wild abandon, as though she just lost control of herself. this could potentially happen at any time, whether she was cooking (and on the phone), lying in bed (and on the phone), or just sitting in the kitchen (and... you know).
i don't know about the official diagnosis of insanity, but to me, that was crazy as hell. and so, that's how i spent my last week, living in fear. fortunately nothing bad happened or else you'd all have seen my face on the newspapers and i'll be more famous than that murderer NS boy.
there is usually a marxist moment in every relationship, the moment when it becomes clear that love is reciprocated. the way it is resolved depends on the balance between self-love and self-hatred. if self-hatred gains the upper hand, then the one who has recieved love will declare that the beloved (on some excuse or other) is that good enough for them (not good enough by virtue of associating with no-goods). but if self-love gains the upper hand, both partners may accept that seeing their love reciprocated is not proof of how low the beloved is, but of how lovable they have themselves turned out to be. - page 49
my mouth went dry. i felt a strange throbbing movement at the back of my neck. i couldn't concieve how chloe had lost her heart to a deeply compromised piece of footwear. my idea of who she was, my aristophelian certainty of her identity, had never included this sort of enthusiasm. hurt and disturbed by the unexpected turn in our relationship, i asked myself, "how could a woman who walks into my life in sensible flat black shoes favoured by schoolgirls and nuns, and who claims to love and understand me, be drawn to such shoes?" yet outwardly, i simply inquired (in what i trusted to be a remarkably innocent tone, "did you keep the receipt?" - page 53
yet i remained pensive on the drive home through the evening rush hour. my love began to question itself. what did it mean if things i considered charming about chloe, she considered incidental or irrelevant to her true self. was i reading things into chloe that simply did not belong to her? i looked at the slope of her shoulders and the way a strand of her hair was trapped in the car headrest. she turned toward me and smiled, so that for an instant i saw the gap between her two front teeth. how much of my sensitive, soulful lover lay in my fellow passenger? - page 83
i've been obsessively listening to this song for the past week or two. it's been pretty much the only song i've listened to. most times i open windows media player, click this song, and when it finishes and goes to the next one, i click the 'previous' button and revel in the greatness once again.
of course i could very easily just put that one song in a playlist, but i don't want to in case i over-listen and get sick of it. it's happened before. now i listen a few times, close, and then when i feel the intense urge i'll listen again. and again. you should too.
most mornings i intend to wake up early because otherwise i'll sleep till 1pm. most mornings i really manage to wake up 'early' maybe around 9 or 10am, but the problem is, i'll be paralysed in bed.
i wake up and i want to get up but feel so bloody tired that i can't move my body. i'll just lie there and fall back into sleep within a few seconds. it seems that the more i sleep, the more tired and sluggish i'll feel for the rest of the day, but i would be unable to sleep at night till 3am or so. and the cycle repeats.
it's worse when i have to go to school early in the morning, because i'll have to forcibly un-paralyse myself and like use all my strength to jerk my body out of bed. it's almost like when you're dreaming and you want to get out of it, you gotta concentrate on your body and yank yourself back to reality.
i think it's a lack of hard exercise that's making my feel so tired. the blood's not pumping fast enough. or maybe i'm still suffering from post-yog hangover and i'm just making up for all the lost sleep.
i love songs with soothing female vocals. i think all female vocals should be soothing, because otherwise what the fuck are they there for?
so i now present to you, top 5 songs with soothing female vocals: swingset chain - loquat summer stars - via audio maps - yeah yeah yeahs calendar girl - stars stars - warpaint
"story of the year is unfolding here and i promise you this time i'll listen well blinded as we are under the blooming light we feel as though we're doing something right" summer stars - via audio
i've been reading this book very slowly, at the rate of 1 chapter per night. slowly, i told myself, otherwise i'd finish the whole book at once.
in it, i found so many things that passed through my mind at one point or another, but i had found these thoughts to be so strange and alien that i couldn't fully grasp what they were, let alone put them down in words.
this author, on the other hand, did it beautifully. and it also made me realise that i wasn't crazy when i had those thoughts. one day when i'm free i'll type out some excerpts for you.
after a long and painful battle, my email mysteriously started working again. i filled in the form for recovering my password, and they asked a lot of questions like,
Names of contacts in your Hotmail address book: Subjects of any old mail that is in your Hotmail Inbox or mail folders: Names of contacts on your Messenger contact list: Your Messenger nickname (display name):
and some of the questions i was tempted to answer "how the fuck am i supposed to remember?"
the hotmail staff looked through my answers and...
"We have reviewed the information you provided to us and have determined that you have not passed our validation criteria"
FUCK YOU BITCHES!!!
anyway i somehow (i don't know how) managed to log in, and saw a lot of email from fb. some ass used my email address to create an account and even added some of my friends. i looked through the fb site but couldn't find any way to report him because maybe the situation was too strange.
how did he manage to click the account confirmation email? did he access my email and then change the password back? it doesn't make sense. in the end, i clicked 'forgot password' on his account site, gained access to his account through my email, and fucking DELETED HIS ACCOUNT.