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triggerfling
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Name: Victoria
Country: Singapore
Gender: Female
Interests: french tips, Luella bartley, How to save a life, Gg, m.a.c. lustreglass, Orson scott card, Nylon, Salman rushdie, Dead poets society, tragedy, literature, anything bigger than me.
Message: message me
Member Since:
4/12/2006
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| "Siren Song"
Margaret Atwood
This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: the song
that is irresistible:
the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see beached skulls
the song nobody knows
because anyone who had heard it
is dead, and the others can’t remember.
Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?
I don’t enjoy it here
squatting on this island
looking picturesque and mythical
with these two feathery maniacs,
I don’t enjoy singing
this trio, fatal and valuable.
I will tell the secret to you,
to you, only to you.
Come closer. This song
is a cry for help: Help me!
Only you, only you can,
you are unique
at last. Alas
it is a boring song
but it works every time.
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| Because your love, your love, your love is my drug
It's times like these that remind me how absolutely blessed I am.
Just yesterday I was writing my NTUMUN position paper (Singapore in GA discussing climate change in the Arctic... sleepfest ttm) and my dad drifted into my room so I randomly asked him if he knew the % drop in Singapore's GDP after the last recession (I know, I'm the schooling economist, I should know). He didn't. Today I got back, and first thing he did as I walked in was hand me a 12-page print out of Singapore's stats from 1960 to present. Now I know he probably got some intern to google it up for him, and I know that this is my blog and not Givesmehope.com, but honestly... GMH. <3
It's the same thing when I ask my mum to buy me a certain pen because I'm too lazy to walk to the school bookshop to buy it, and she comes back with like twelve of them in 5 different colours, because I've forgotten to specify which one it was I wanted. GMH x2.
I realise that often times, as with tragedies, the blesing is in the details. | | |
| "You know, I think more and more often"
Tadeusz Borowski
You know, I think more and more often
that I should go back.
Maybe I'll meet you. And happiness?
Happiness is being sad together.
So I look through the moonlit window
and listen.
Nothing. A breeze stirs somewhere.
Alone among the leaves - the moon.
Like a golden wheel it rolls
above the windblown leaves.
Such moons, only paler,
shone over the Wisla.
Even the Big Dipper on its course
stops in a tree at midnight,
just like at home. But why here?
Truly, I don't know.
What's here? Longing and sleepless nights,
unknown streets and somebody's verse.
I live here as a nobody:
a Displaced Person.
I think of you. I know I must leave.
Perhaps we can return to our past,
but I know neither what youth will be like
nor where you are.
But I'm yours or no one's
forever. Listen,
listen, read this poem
if somewhere you are alive.
--
I love this poem. I think I'm discovering lately the entire concept of "But I'm yours of no one's / forever". Scary innit. I suppose it's less scary in perspective - no one really has nothing. Or at least, no one should be allowed to have nothing. Even Marilyn Monroe wore Chanel No.5 to bed. (Okay here's where I stop making sense.)
ANYW January be the month of birthdays! 
5th was Popey's, 12th was Xuan's and tomorrow is Lynn's. Love love love to the max!
Look I actually managed to find a photo of all 4 of us!
Okay actually I was just stalling. The reason why I'm picspamming is largely because I don't know what else to post. Maybe HMCAsia tomorrow will bring inspiration. Bbbbs!
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| "Fragments for the End of the Year"
Jennifer K. Sweeney
On average, odd years have been the best for me.
I’m at a point where everyone I meet looks like a version
of someone I already know.
Without fail, fall makes me nostalgic for things I’ve never experienced.
The sky is molting. I don’t know
if this is global warming or if the atmosphere is reconfiguring
itself to accommodate all the new bright suffering.
I am struck by an overwhelming need to go to Iceland.
Despite all awful variables, we are still full of ideas
as possible as unsexed fruit.
I was terribly sorry to be the one to explain to the first graders
the connection between the sunset and pollution.
On Venus you and I are not even a year old.
Then there were two skies.
The one we fly through and the one
we bury ourselves in.
I appreciate my wide beveled spatula which fulfills
the moment I realized I would grow up and own such things.
I am glad I do not yet want sexy bathroom accessories.
Such things.
In the story we were together every time.
On his wedding day, the stone in his chest
not fully melted but enough.
Sometimes I feel like there are birds flying out of me.
Lovely lovely lovely start to the new year. (:
Can't wait for 2010 to begin! 
Will update proper after Xuanwei's party l8er... haven't packed for the sleepover yet OR decided what to wear URGH no time no time! ):
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| "Sonnet XCIV"
Pablo Neruda
If I die, survive me with such a pure force
you make the pallor and the coldness rage;
flash your indelible eyes from south to south,
from sun to sun, till your mouth sings like a guitar.
I don’t want your laugh or your footsteps to waver;
I don’t want my legacy of happiness to die;
don’t call to my breast: I’m not there.
Live in my absence as in a house.
Absence is such a large house
that you’ll walk through the walls,
hang pictures in sheer air.
Absence is such a transparent house
that even being dead I will see you there,
and if you suffer, Love, I’ll die a second time. | | |
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