my love, my reprieve

old school jazz is love, is black liner and red rouge and long gazes and kisses to the mirror

amado mio, love me forever
and let forever
begin, tonight
:amado mio - doris fisher & allan roberts

the song is such a recognisably bachata song that it is excrutiatingly bittersweet to wrench my mind off dance for a while, picture twirling into the sunset again. my umbrella, that long skirt, this beautiful day, and maybe a touch of you -

dang. haha

four theories of the press: authoritarian, libertarian, social responsibility, soviet-totalitarian. in moments like these, i remember how i am and how i live, and how i live, thus how i am.

this swaying inside of me is threatening to overspill, i almost think i would want to dance with you, let us sway, let us say, this shall stay

(and let forever, begin, tonight)

lifted

"Forget 377A. Do you know what is 377B?

377B (2)- Sexual penetration with a living animal.
377B (4)- Causing another person to sexually penetrate a living animal or causing another person to be penetrated by a living animal.

Mind you, when they mention living animal, they are referring to a living animal.

Very thoughtful law-setters, indeed."


:chengs

25 minutes

the person from singapore compact (corporate social responsiblity) is so not returning my calls nor my messages.

the weather rocks socks and i'm sitting at the benches with a bloated stomach. the only sunshine i am getting is the reflected sun beams erwin constructed because wonderful bee hwee is guarding the worldly possessions of, oh, only 10 busy people.

wonderous totaliness.

"i've never seen such a lovely queen
from the skies above, to the deepest love
i've never felt crazy like this before"
:paint my love - mltr

my insanity is on repeat play; run along now, my love/d
run along

delusional

pulled in so many directions that i shall break

let's salsa.

"jesus loves you

is the feeling mutual?"

is the sticker on the mac infront of my face right here right now.

Hell, NO.

epistemology is the way with which we come to believe what we do, and there has to be a euphemism for disillusionary determination somewhere. seriously.

the truth always lies in subtlety, and that which screams in your face can be but another facade of depth, another mockery to the genuine.

precision of oxymorons

it is cold in the library, but it is noisy outside, and therefore i slide slowly down to silence. peace

the journal article on singapore cinema is stunningly full of oxymorons. the locality of foreignness, the articulation of hidden meanings, subtle defiance, counter preoccupation. unfold me i am small

cs people are chock full of regrets. woe'r'us

the other blog is so full of the weili i cannot stand it anymore. ah, red nails free me, free me red nails, free red nails on me. there is no sky and there is no earth but, still, snowflakes fall.

colour me white