"Loan me fifty lire."

I dried my hands and took out my pocket-book from the inside of my tunic hanging on the wall. Rinaldi took the note, folded it without rising from the bed and slid it in his breeches pocket. He smiled, "I must make on Miss Barkley the impression of a man of sufficient wealth. You are my great and good friend and financial protector."

"Go to hell," I said.

-A Farewell to Arms
by Ernest Hemingway

*giggles*

still tired but amused

Let the wild rumpus start!



There needs to be a study done to get some statistics about why this trailer gets to people. The wolf suit most definitely and the song.Oh my god the song the song the song. It feels like oh I don't know, remembering and reliving the first time you tasted candy and then how it never really tastes the same after that. It's the bitter-sweet child of a threesome between nostalgia, melancholy and pure awesomeness.

And I watched Coraline a while back. Getting it out of the way:The book was better. But the film was still amazing and for the lack of a better word wondrous. Surprisingly creepy at parts, twisting all traditional fairy tale rules (Rule of 3) but still echoing traces of early fantasy.

I've decided I like performing mice and yellow boots.

woah, tired.

Mother (mummy,mum,mom,mam) is peering curiously through the silts in the blinds of our living room window.

"Where," she asks suddenly,"did all those flowers come from?"

For a moment, all activity ceases to steal furtive look across the street, registering the pink orange summer colours lining our neighbour's drive way.

"Landscaping," says Father (daddy,dad,dude) finally.

Half remembering."They called in garden landscapers yersterday."

"Oh."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"It smells like Australia again." I mention casually because the window is open and it's drafty but the sunlight finds us and we can almost forget that there isn't a heater in this room and that the florescent lighting wasn't once again diluting any fun we would try to have.

"Really? Australia has a smell?"

"Yeah, it's like when you just step out of the airport, it hits you, scent of Australia..." I wave my hands around a little, expecting somehow, mutual understanding.

Brows furrow. "Really. What does Singapore smell like then?"

like burning asphalt ground and unwilling congealed sweat, like milk tea at 3am in the morning without getting bashed if you felt like it although i hated milk tea, like too sweet kaya toast and plastic a very persistent scent of artifice, like surly clouds and heavy thunderstorms,
like home (is, was, still, perhaps, forgotten)

"Like heat," i say inconsequentially, "humid." Colourless answers.

He is unimpressed. So am I.

Australia smells like bottled sunshine.

The cherry blossoms are already fading.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am still surprised when people use my name. In my head I am a constant 'you' or 'i'. Like absurd narcissistic love songs to myself.

Beverley, Beverly, Bev.

What belongs to you yet others use more than you do?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's a bloody beautiful day.

"It's so pretty." I exhale under my breathe.

There has to be a million more adequate words metaphors similes to describe to my surprise, the sakuras blossoms that have sprung up on trees that I hadn't even realised were sakura trees.

Now that I know though, I won't be able to unsee them like those oddly fustrating optical illusions. I'll be hoping for them to bloom, sooner, faster and in greater varieties of pink.

Transitional period between winter and spring which means scattered blossoms, rebirth and rain.

The air smells, perpetually, like early morning dew drops.

Throbbing lights, irregular bopping to music (tentatively termed dancing). a million hugs and surprisingly good food.

OMGZ FORMAL.

And I'm dead beat while "my locks come tumbling down in curls"[sister's words not mine]

Update at a more earthly hour:D

A whirlwind open day at Monash University with a substantial amount of papercuts acquired from phamplet after booklet, but i think I have found a calling although still in its embroynic stages.

I want to do law.

And I just noticed it's August.

HOMG that's 8 months since I've been here, 8 months of knowing new people or does time make them not newish any more?

I love new people but I also love comfortable silences and minimal amount of second guessing.

Wishing that i can recall where that bridging point is because the "you'll just know" shtick is not cutting it for me.(or maybe, the reason I can't remember is because you don't store 'you'll just know' moments thereby creating the necessities for them.)

:/

Time flies flies flies

Happy 2nd of August everyone and may it be as magical as the 3rd.

Letsbecrypticwise!

a rough patchwork of stolen witticism, Oscar Wilde quotes and word of mouth music.an odd tapestry of borrowed thoughts, an embroidery of all people known ( and will ever get to know) and somehow. Because to be one original thing is the holy grail of existence and we all know how hard the search for that has turned out.

a pack rat by nature (look under the bed), even more difficult to clear up intangible debris to find who we are.

bits and pieces of the truth woven into the best type of lie there is : a true lie.

Schoolwise

I haz formal, why is this more trouble than I remembered?

Being told that I am not Second Language Chinese Advance material makes me v. sad and also wondering just exactly what I've learnt in 6 years of higher Chinese.

I don't know if I'm interested in the school, to represent it or invest time in it's name. On one hand, the homework is always on time and shirt always tucked in and on the other, well, it is hard to find passion for anything else let alone school.

I take a long time making dull water coloured decision that by the time I do, most of them don't matter anymore.

Gah!

Lifewise

I have no idea why but sometimes my presence simply fades into an odd grin and an occasional strangled giggle. It's like I have forgotten how to communicate or is this because I've never really learnt how. The power of awkwardness is over whelming and surprisingly ticklish.

Where is the line between being self reflective and narcissism and when do you know you've crossed it?

OKAYMOVINGONWISE