Saturday, 25 June 2011
I fed a plant a dose of cigarette ashes. I named the plant Nana.
If Nana could talk, I’m pretty sure she’d have qualms about it. But she cannot, and for that I am grateful. Despite what I may be held accountable for, I hope she will be healthy, and alive, and most importantly, sane.
I hope I’ll still be sane, too, at the end of the day.
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
Let me tell you about blunders.
It started with my loss, tears, and cries, and was coloured by my naivety. Then came the appointment, the relations, and the revelations, and all the feelings that ensued.
For your information, I am intent on making it end with your downfall.
Just like the story, the girl yelled “wolf!” and all eyes fell on her. When the audience knew that the wolf was not actually there, they hurried back to their works, grumbling as they scurry along.
Not satisfied, being the narcissist she is, she yelled again. “WOLF!” she said. The kind audience, being the human that they are, once again turned their heads and broke their necks coming to her aid. And no, the wolf was not there. The audience must feel like gullible sheep by now.
The third time she yelled wolf, the audience… Well, you know how the damn story goes: the girl gets her head bitten off (I think, and I hope). What is left to figure out is how you stand in the story.
Unfortunately, I think I play the role of the audience here. The gullible, naive audience.
Sunday, 19 June 2011
Friday, 17 June 2011
"All art is at once surface and symbol.
Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors."
- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
An affair with Dorian Gray’s picture reflects my disgust, my curiosity, my intrigue towards an act of spiralling into a kismet beyond the point of reason. The affair, having taken place besides a lonely bedside lamp, made loneliness a treasure I would not trade for little.