fie-guratively speaking

unable to break up a fight in the school playground, i finally resorted to higher authority.

i hate having to report any of my kids, especially since they see me as their friend (and only ally who will fight for their soccer ground). it was strangely defeating and, at the risk of sounding all drama-ish, i almost felt like a traitor.

handling situations the right way sometimes means having the humility to admit you simply just. can’t. handle. it. 

so why do i feel like i caved in.

***

the tribute to james brown concert at no black tie was nothing short of amazing.

awesome line up by denise minnifield on vocals, the ever talented mac chew on keys, jamie wilson on electric, greg lyons, sax, super bass-fingers, andy peterson and gary gideon on drums.

cheers to eug for persuading me to go, and to harry for drinks!

the way we deciphered reality, it made me think even fairy tale characters would be jealous.

it was seamless, i think. but thoughts blurred too much with streetlight rays and winding roads, that night. 

did you not notice?

how my fingers were buried deep in my pockets, and how my toes crunched against the cold blast of air from the vents.

paperback dreams and match stick words would have been the perfect soundtrack. but as always,

we long in polaroid.

to the kapten:

we’ll always have bizarre hiking sponsorships, mural painted rooms, airport strips, mini coopers, horse analogies and tissue drawings to save for a photobook day.

be a grown-up and drink lattes, please.

if i had a favourites list, company over creases would easily make top five.

nights over static atlantic

and i’m the Little Engine that Could.

***

james franco.

be still my beating heart.

let’s play pretend

non-existence.

boston can play on.

***

shook! was uber fun.

good company, smooth jazz sounds and yummy drinks always make for a great time.

If the Boy had been there, i imagine he’d be eyeing the funky architecture all night though.

:)

  red, rummed & relaxed

so i give you Contrite,

and you give me a ticket to the Gare du Nord.

i’ll be all polaris about it, but for now…

the electronic blips of the postal service stir up some very peculiar feelings.

peculiar. but not unpleasant.

it’s the amalgamate of serendipitous collisions; of early morning conversations; of comfortable exhibition knowledge; of fragmented moments; of glad realisations; of standing on spring steps in winter; of fickle tuggings; of red jumpers and faux suede boots; of lulled-lit rooms; of sutured invitations; of therapeutic escapisms; of much-anticipated company.

i’ve undone everything now, haven’t i. but i’m allowed ever so often.

aren’t i.

i promise tomorrow will be an unblemished day, where the grey slivers of melancholia blend, hidden under foot, and perfect clouds dot clear blue skies.

over and a day.

hello,

mr metronome man.

***

it’s finally raining.

and i sound like a stuffed elephant.

stop laughing, siowkaishan.