“I have to teach myself not to read too much into everything. Comes of too long having read so much into hardly anything at all.”
Monthly Archives: April 2006
overhead bridge
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after a few minutes I would arrive at the foot of the stairway. Climbing up to the very last (or is it the very first?) step would bring me to one end of the overhead bridge that was meant to help us cross the expressway.
I would walk slowly, knuckles hitting the handsupport in rhythm with my footsteps. But I would not bother when they go out of rhythm, it would not matter. On happier times I would utter an awful recitation of various scenes from The Godfather, Amadeus, or Reservoir Dogs, or started recently, True Romance. On a little less happier days, I would choose lines from Cold Mountain, Out of Africa or The English Patient. If I were to ask myself which would it be now, I swear I could not tell.
When I finally reach the far end of the bridge, I would face a downward stairway (there is no such down- or upward stairway, now isn’t there?), but with much fewer steps compared to its upward counterpart which I’d have climbed up few moments before.
Now all I’d have to do is step down slowly, be courteous to make way for a man carrying his bicycle up the stairs. Step all the way down, there I would be. In the park, again. “Good afternoon, Sir. Very fine weather for a walk in the park.”, a passer by would greet me, or so I would wish. Hmm no, I would not know anybody in the park, and no unknown body would ever greet me there. Not that it would matter, for I would be there only on my own business, known only by, other than me, the park itself.
some business I have.
refugee
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I know if I can’t bring myself to sleep I should post something here on this journal. Should I?
last night I chilled out at the lake nearby (a pond, really). On my way back home I was in my mind composing a long journal entry. That was seven hours ago. The urge to post that train of thought has now gone completely.
I visited the lake twice already within this past week. Two hours each. Sitting on one of the bench at the lakeside, in the dark, looking into the water surface that was calmer than ever, I let my mind wander into whatever moments it rekindled. It’s all peaceful that I’m now able to smile at those memories.
Around fifty metres from the lake is the largest public park in the neighbourhood. I used to walk circling its perimeter whenever I needed to vent out whatever mess of thought I had in mind. On couple of occasions I did so under heavy rains. In fact, I liked it better when it rained. I would make Phil Collins cry out I Wish It Would Rain Down loudly -sort of.
I once thought that I would not be able to walk into those two places ever again. Now I think I can visit them anytime and be reunited with their quiet and calm nature. For what we have lost will never be returned to us. The land will not heal. Too much blood. The heart will not heal. All we can do is make peace with the past. And try to learn from it.
read me to sleep
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“How long is a day in the dark. Or a week.
The fire is gone now. And I’m horr–… horribly cold.
I really ought to drag myself outside but then there’d be the sun. I’m afraid I waste the light on paintings. And on writing these words.
We die.
We die. We die rich with lovers and tribes. Tastes we have swallowed. Bodies we have entered; and swum up like rivers.
Fears we’ve hidden in, like this wretched cave.
I want all this marked on my body. We’re the real countries. Not the boundaries drawn on maps with names of powerful men.
I know you will come and carry me out into the palace of winds. That’s all I’ve wanted. To walk in such a place with you. With friends. An earth without maps.
The lamp’s gone out.
And I’m writing… in the darkness.”
the hollywood
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seen lot of movies these past couple of weeks.
from Frank Capra to Alfred Hitchcock to Akira Kurosawa to Stanley Kubrick to Tim Robbins to Ang Lee.
from James Stewart to Humphrey Bogart to Gregory Peck to John Wayne. It’s quite amazing how these four great actors shone their characters in their own ways, which styles that are distinctively different from each other but equally charming and entertaining. There’s not much I wouldn’t give to watch their works.
Also seen Cary Grant, Frank Sinatra, Kirk Douglas to Robert de Niro, Jeremy Irons, Sean Connery, Alec Baldwin, Denzel Washington, Sean Penn, Johnny Depp and Nicolas Cage. To Hugh Grant.
From Audrey Hepburn to Maureen O’Hara to Jean Simmons to Emma Thompson and Susan Sarandon. And Kate Winslet.
at the well
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it’s wonderful to love something. err, someone. Even if we have to endure sleepless, endless nights nursing the feeling; this love we have. Even if we have to dry the blood from the bleeding heart when it fails on us.
I suppose I was wrong when I said to a friend to be careful about loving someone, be careful not to suffer those endless nights all over again.
No. We don’t need to worry about suffering caused by love. To love is wonderful. Everything else matters less.
im sorry
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I’m sorry, mister. You know I am.
shall we part, here and now, mister? shall I wish you good luck? shall I say anything at all?
no. I’ll stay. If you can stand it, I can.
expertise
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IT guys tend to move on from low-level coders to higher-level management. In the process, they tend to have less and less coding time, because coding will be performed mostly by the programmers.
or so I thought.
My theory was quick to become invalid. One such invalidator, there are thousands of active very-very-senior-developers of various operating systems. How old do you think Greg Lehey is; yet he is still actively getting himself busy with the nasty kernel hacking and even emacs-macro (or is it vi, im not sure).
well, IT is a very diverse subject. It’s all about expertise. One might worship C# to death without knowing a single keyword of Lisp.
“Lisp? what in the name of devil is that?”, asked my friend, a recently IT-graduated fellow who had just submitted his computing-post-graduate application. See what I mean?