People at Night

PoTd-Nov 28th

People at night
Denise Levertove

A night that cuts between you and you
and you and you and you
and me : jostles us apart, a man elbowing
through a crowd. We don't
look for each other, eight---
wander off, each alone, not looking
in the slow crowd. Amond sideshows
under movie signs
pictures made if a million lights
giants that move and again move
again, above a cloud of thick smells,
franks, roasted, nutmeats---

or going up to some apartment, yours or yours,
finding
someone sitting in the dark:
who is it, really? so you switch the
light on to see : you know the name but
who is it?
But you won't see.

The fluorescent light flickers sullenly, a
pause. But you command. It grabs
each face and holds it up
by the hair for you, mask after mask.

you and you and you and I repeat
guestures that make do when speech
has failed and talk
and talk, laughing, saying
'I', and 'I',
meaning 'Anybody'.
No one.

POTD: Eternity & Abstinence, two poems by William Blake

Eternity

He who bends to himself a Joy
Doth the wingèd life destroy;
But he who kisses the Joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity's sunrise.

The look of love alarms,
Because it's fill'd with fire;
But the look of soft deceit
Shall win the lover's hire.

Soft deceit and idleness,
These are Beauty's sweetest dress.
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Abstinence Sows Sand

Abstinence sows sand all over
The ruddy limbs and flaming hair,
But Desire gratified
Plants fruits of life and beauty there.


评论/留言

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作者：Slappujudu　时间：2004-11-30 8:51:28

stick! i''m with you on this one! those shitheads, shut them up!! wish i could hear the song too. i do miss legends of the fall!! tristan n susanna!!!! Tristan he personally killed himself after samuel was gone. indians they do appeal to you if i remember correctly you wanna join their tribe haha! alrite, i''ll post some indian legends up.


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作者：Stickyjady　时间：2004-11-30 2:16:39

Abstinence is actually a poem selected for the literature curriculum this term. The adorable lecturer Dr Turner played us a folk song version of the poem, artist named Williamson (terrific musician, check him out. I still can''t find any free download though..). Very different from what we pop music addicts are usually exposed to. Had a very mysterious, melancholic, Oriental feel to it, slow, and deeply moving. The poem only has four lines and the song was a long one, repeating the lines with varying rhythms and emotional input. (I couldn't help get a bit irritated when patches of shitheads all over the lecture theatre started laughing at it) And in those moments I hallucinated, entering the opening scene of Legends of the Fall, the old Indian hunter murmuring intimate family stories, fragrant dry embers burning, cackling, the tent a weathered fiery brown, and the music seemed strangely apt there, in the background and foreground at once, soaking everything in a grainy, croaky solemnity that''s private possession to wanders and hunters only. "Abstinence sows sand all over/The ruddy limbs and flaming hair,/But Desire gratified/Plants fruits of life and beauty there."Somehow I think this wouldn''t be out of place at all if the song turns up somewhere in the film itself. Tristan and Susanna. The Ludlows, father and sons...

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作者：Slappujudu 时间：2004-11-28 10:50:13

absolutely great poems!!
abstinence sows sands, what a succinct and pictoral title.

the first lighting

my first time hearing this phrase 'the first lighting', for them it must be custom.

it's still a month away from christmas but all decorations are up, and today eight at night those trees at the square hundred metres away from our window were lighted up in all shades. their first lighting, first taste of holiday joy. reds, greens, even purples(don't argue with me gang jianan, it's not blue. stick you'll have to trust me.) gigantic and towering and 'delocalised all around', (sounds like?) and cuddled in the centre the open rind. i've been expecting crowds to be mass skating together while the neon lights shine on the ice and flash on the hundred of ice blades gliding past and it happens. and it's aboslutely christmasy and joyful. stick,did you watch this movie called 'love actually'? now i understand why xmas is the getting-together-and-make-up time for everyone. girls will curl up smiles and beam 'so romantic', guys will hold them and say 'you're so beautiful'(whether true or not), and we, fingerful of girls, stood there and mumbled 'so lengmatic'. we were simply beaten by the cold. i missed the fireworks though. i was walking outside against a current of people coming back in and i knew i missed the fireworks. so have to wait till real xmas to enjoy it.

the purple tree, the biggest one of them all- it's so tall! don't you want to be the little princess(female version), climb up there and pick the star. i had the urge to. you can virtually gaze, gaze, keep on gazing till your vision is a blob of watery purple and then you'll shake yourself back to conscious, realizing you're to be in quite a frightening number of unidentified photos totally unrelated to you, and people holding cameras suppressing a scowl and patiently waiting for you to walk away. just don't stone for too long.

steamboat, octopus balls, noodle soup, fried chicken wings, better be steamy, misty, hot, spicy! draw a gigantic mind bubble above my head and stuff all these in, and you might just see steamy vapour coming out of it. I WANT HOT FOOOOOOOOOOOOD! esp. on cold days like this.

so now i'm back here again typing.
finished typing.

random quotes from the English Patient

random quotes from the english patient

Don't pinch me please. Let me go on dreaming. ...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...I'm writing in the darkness.

"That night I fell in love with a voice. Only a voice. I wanted to hear nothing more."

We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes; tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers, characters we have hidden if as if caves, fears we have climbed up as if caves. I wish for all this to be marked on my body when i am dead. I believe in such cartography, to be marked by nature. Not just to label ourselves like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communial books, communial histories. All that I wished was to walk upon an earth that had no maps.



Memorable Quotes from
English Patient, The (1996)
Caravaggio: In Italy, there's always chickens, but no eggs. In Africa there's eggs, but never chickens. Who separated them?


Almásy: I fear Madox knows about us, he keeps mentioning Anna Karenina


Madox: I have to teach myself not to read too much into everything. It comes from too long having to read so much into hardly anything at all.


Almásy: Swoon. They'll catch you.


Almásy: This... this, the hollow at the base of a woman's throat, does it have an official name?
Madox: Good God, man, pull yourself together.


Almásy: There is no God... but I hope someone looks after you.
Madox: Just in case you're interested, it's called the suprasternal notch. Come and visit us in Dorset when all this nonsense is over.
[Heads away but turns back]
Madox: You'll never come to Dorset.


Almásy: What do you love most?
Katharine Clifton: Water. Fish in it. Hedgehogs, I love hedgehogs. Marmite. Baths, but not with other people! Islands. I could go on all day.
Almásy: Go on all day.
Katharine Clifton: Your handwriting. My husband.
Almásy: And what do you hate most?
Katharine Clifton: A lie. And you?
Almásy: Ownership. When you leave, forget me.


Almásy: It is a very plum plum.


Almásy: I just wanted you to know: I'm not missing you yet.
Katharine Clifton: You will.

Caravaggio: Ask your saint who he is. Ask him who he's killed.


Almásy: When were you most happy?
Katharine Clifton: Now.
Almásy: When were you least happy?
Katharine Clifton: Now.


[Asked what he hates most]
Almásy: Ownership. I hate being owned.


Almásy: I once traveled with a guide who was taking me to Faya. He didn't speak for nine hours. At the end of it he pointed to the horizon and said, "Faya!" That was a good day.


Katharine Clifton: I'm impressed you can sew.
Almásy: Good.
Katharine Clifton: You sew very badly.
Almásy: Well, you don't sew at all.
Katharine Clifton: A woman should never learn to sew, and if she can she shouldn't admit to it.


Katharine Clifton: Do you think you are the only one who feels anything?

Almásy: How can you ever smile, as if your life hadn't capsized?


Almásy: I once heard of a captain who wore a patch over a good eye. The men fought harder for him.


Katharine Clifton: Promise me you'll come back for me.
Almásy: I promise, I'll come back for you. I promise, I'll never leave you.


Katharine Clifton: Am I K in your book? I think I must be.


Almásy: I am a just a bit of toast, my friend.


Katharine Clifton: You speak so many bloody languages, and you never want to talk.


Katharine Clifton: I wanted to meet the man who could write such a long paper with so few adjectives.


Hana: There's a man downstairs. He brought us eggs. He might stay.
Almásy: Why? Can he lay eggs?
Hana: He's Canadian.
Almásy: Why are people so happy when they collide with someone from the same place? What happened in Montreal when you passed a man in the street? Did you invite him to live with you?


Almásy: There is no God, but I hope someone watches over you.


Katharine Clifton: Will we be alright?
Almásy: Yes. Yes, absolutly.
Katharine Clifton: "Yes" is a comfort. "Absolutely" is not.


Katharine Clifton: This - what is this?
Almásy: It's a folk song.
Katharine Clifton: Arabic.
Almásy: No, no. It's Hungarian. My daijka sang it to me when I was a child growing up in Budapest.
Katharine Clifton: It's beautiful. What's it about?
Almásy: Szerelam means love. And the story, well, there's this Hungarian count. He's a wanderer. He's a fool. And for years he's on some kind of a quest for... who knows what. And then one day, he falls under the spell of a mysterious English woman. A harpy, who beats him, and hits him, he he becomes her slave, and he sews her clothes, and worships...
[Katharine starts hitting him]
Almásy: Stop it! Stop it! You're always beating me!
Katharine Clifton: Bastard! You bastard, I believed you! You should be my slave.


Almásy: New lovers are nervous and tender, but smash everything. For the heart is an organ of fire.


Almásy: Every night I cut out my heart. But in the morning it was full again.


Hana: I'm not in love with him. I'm in love with ghosts... And so is he, he's in love with ghosts.


Muller: You are a Canadian spy working for the Allies. Code-name Moose.


Katharine Clifton: My darling. I'm waiting for you. How long is the day in the dark? Or a week? The fire is gone. And I'm cold, horribly cold. I really want to drag myself outside but then there'd be the sun. I'm afraid I'll waste the light on the paintings, not 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 have hidden in - like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. Where the real country is. Not boundaries drawn on maps, names of powerful men. I know you'll come carry me out to the Palace of Winds. That's what I've wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends and an earth without maps. The lamp has gone out and I'm writing in the darkness.


Almasy: You're wearing the thimble.
Katharine Clifton: Of course, you idiot. I always wear it; I've always worn it; I've always loved you.


Katharine Clifton: You're not coming inside?
Almásy: No.
Katharine Clifton: Will you please come inside?
Almásy: Mrs. Clifton...
Katharine Clifton: [scowls] Don't.
Almásy: I believe you still have my book.

this burden called time

stick, have you ever thought about your future, seriously?
btw, this site is strange. dunno how they configured english text,
isn't there automatic line configuaration instead of this long string of senteces with no breaks? i have to remind myself to enter sentence breaks manually, this's getting stupid
enter(strike of key)

i shouldn't dump any more depressing thoughts into this newly built very alive slapstick fun-devoting blog but the mood swings, well, they'll pass soon i guess, if not,i will manually 'bin' them by brutal force, like madly tearing out a crossed-out piece of rubbish paper from my notebook and start new again.i'm not questioning you really, coz i have bravely glanced at what my future's going to be like and premonition tells me it's not rosy looking. should i try the tarot telling link at the sidebar? anyway there's my roommate who claims to be a great tarot magician,
once she claimed i would have a what she called 'apocalypse' quarrel with my neighbour- btw, throw in some words for my neighbour, name Didem, parents turkish, spent her childhood
(8 years) in the northern part of Japan, speaks perfect non-yankee-accented Japanese, whose half social cycle is japanese, who works part-time in a great Jap restaurant, who is small built, dirty brown curly hair, lovely looking. and how did we come to notice she actually speaks Jap- a 'random fact' is what she calls her japanese speaking. well, one day we heard some familiar but strange sounds, for eg. gumbade, benkio(study), sabishi(lonely), someone speaking outside our room. we peeped, not asian. blurry, was it our neighbour?? so we pretended to go outside and dump our luggage to take a closer look, and we were shocked at our new
discovery, that our foreign looking neighbour speaks perfect japanese. that's more than enough words to dscribe Didem, excessive.

where am i, so my bad mood and my gloomy perspective about my own future, sometimes when i look at those websites where people claim how glad , how grateful, how excited(string of adjectives) that they are following their dreams and doing what they enjoy every single secondand minute. that it's their dream come true. where is mine? what am i doing here? do i want to be a mad scientist? (i've come to the conclusion that what it takes to be a great scientist-madness), no and no and no. sometimes i even fear it. stick why can't you go on and be an independent novelist or script writer, and i , maybe, try my luck in graphics.

and i only live one life. time's a burden.
enter, key, tap!

that's just part of my daydreaming. maybe i can only find contentment when i do put in enough efforts, which aren't there obviously or else i'll be happier. those success stories,
how i wanna snigger sometimes. and listening to 胡彦斌的‘我的未来不是梦，我在认真的过每一分钟' he sounds so happy n convincing. wish i can steal part of it n carry it around with me. forget about the depressing talks, the crux of the problem, the more i look at it, is, i'm lazy. i just wanna be entertained. i don't want to be responsible for my future,and for my 'precious' (precious being those closely related to me)that's a sign of not really growing up i guess. fabrics so thin it breaks so easy. well, stick, wat r u thinking.share a piece with me. (sounds like pizza,or should i say
'lemme have a bite', in my case one bite=one whole piece)i must make it to the finals(i mean the exams). that's the target for now, dun care how morbid it sounds.

and we once said we're gonna meet somewhere in the States right?tell u, if i don't work anyharder, i won't make it there.

mmm, ok, feeling better, dump your black biles in if you wanna shout.
black bile= melancholy, melan=black, bile=choly
that's abt one of the positive things of learning word dissection,
but it irritates pple prof says we're losing friends

songs now on my playlist
我的未来不是梦
超时空爱情
do as infinity-yesterday n today
haru no kaze-the cat returns theme song
norah jones-shoot the moon

mentantei conan's ending

it won't sound nice, but again it might be rumour

conan-returned to shiniji, and went to school again with ran

haibara- lost her memory in the final battle with the dark force, didn't return to her true self, continued to go to primary school with the other 3 kids.

there isn't enough potion for the 'transformation', in the final battle, there's a explosion and all the data n chemicals are lost, only one small ampule remained-just enough for conan to reutrn to shinji

the hook- although haibara lost her memory, when she looked at conan's photo, she cried. maybe deep in her memory, she still remembered.

the secret- ayumi saw conan turning into shinji, but she promised she'd keep the secret. she kissed shinji, as if saying goodbye to conan.

what jude thought- this sux. my haibara...

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comments

2004-11-27 10:45:08
作者：Slappujudu
really sux sux sux, our haibara
i'm gonna personally throw knives, rotten vege(downstairs from canteen), dynamites to that aoiyama if he ends it like that.
TMD
if he's going to make haibara lose her memory, let it be completely clean so she can start as if born, not with traces of conan!!!!!!!!!!!!! not acceptable

2004-11-27 10:26:38
作者：Stickyjady

what jady thought—this ending really sux. As a pervert I do so often tend to sympathize with the eccentric, outcast, less fortunate figures, and you bet I love haibara more than ran…but then again, the script writer(s) got themselves into this impossible mess of relationships and circumstances it’s impossible to pull themselves out without writing some heart wrenching ending that's bound to compromise one character or another……and of course, it's usually the social outcast that got ditched….I AM HEARTBROKEN WUWAWAWAWAWAAAAAAAAAAAA………

poems of the day - dorothy parker

Dorothy Parker (1893-1967)

Song in a Minor Key

There's a place I know where the birds swing low,
And wayward vines go roaming,
Where the lilacs nod, and a marble god
Is pale, in scented gloaming.
And at sunset there comes a lady fair
Whose eyes are deep with yearning.
By an old, old gate does the lady wait
Her own true love's returning.

But the days go by, and the lilacs die,
And trembling birds seek cover;
Yet the lady stands, with her long white hands
Held out to greet her lover.
And it's there she'll stay till the shadowy day
A monument they grave her.
She will always wait by the same old gate, --
The gate her true love gave her.


Epitaph for a Darling Lady

All her hours were yellow sands,
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.

Shiny day on shiny day
Tumble in a rainbow clutter,
As she flipped them all away,
Sent them spinning down the gutter.

Leave for her a red young rose,
Go your way, and save your pity;
She is happy, for she knows
That her dust is very pretty.