s t a r m | s t October 5th, 2005
sniffsniffsniffsniffcoughcoughcoughsorethroatlosingmyvoiceulcershiver
runnynoseswallowingpainfullytrembledryparchedlipsfeverishweak
hoarsevoicecoldsweatlightheadedheadachedizzystumblingspinningworld
*whine*
I don’t care, I’m going later.
sulk.
s t a r m | s t October 4th, 2005
Ever since I read Yanni’s almost-poetic review of ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ a few months back, I couldn’t get it out of my mind and had wanted to get it but resisted the temptation to ‘cos about 37 books are still languishing in my cupboard, untouched and unread [whew, that's a long sentence!].
But while waiting for the perpetually late Beebs [ok, it's not her fault 'cos her day ends later than me. hee.] to arrive, and needing some distraction to keep myself from dying of hunger, I wandered into City Link MPH only to come face to face with the book. Pick me up! I’ve been waiting for you to buy me! It tempted me like how the serpent tempted Eve with an apple.
I was halfway to the cashier when I noticed the store manager looking gleefully at me, her eyes full of dollar signs. Mystified, I looked down and realised why. 6 books in my arms. Haruki Murakami’s ‘Sputnik Sweetheart’, Neil Gailman’s new book ‘Anansi Boys‘, Tony Parsons’ new book ‘Stories We Could Tell‘, C.S. Lewis’ ‘The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe’, Cecilia Ahern’s ‘Where Rainbows End‘ and Audrey Niffenegger’s ‘The Time-Traveler’s Wife‘. W-o-a-h. Less than 10 minutes in the store and I almost blew more than 100 bucks! How nerdy intellectual can I get?
Anyway, ‘The Time-Traveler’s Wife’ won against the rest and I left the store 22 bucks poorer and a story richer. And here I am now, on page 132 and going on strong, fascinated and enchanted by the complicated weavings of Henry and Clare’s lives. Don’t know why I wrote this entry, don’t really care. Back to my book!
s t a r m | s t October 2nd, 2005
Can’t we belong in this world?
Then I’m sure you’d take me to your every road.
I know we must say goodbye,
We must say goodbye.
Closing my eyes, freezing my mind every time I pass your station,
not daring to step into old food haunts like Crystal Jade and Griller,
leaving the picture folder in my laptop untouched and unopened,
waking up in the middle of nights, eyes filled with unshed tears.
Certain words, certain images, certain actions, certain places.
When will the wounds heal?
Now alone, I realize you’re far ahead,
Without knowing you are there still in my heart.
I know we must say goodbye,
Must we say goodbye…
s t a r m | s t October 2nd, 2005
you start dreaming that you are there shoppingshoppingshopping.
