A funny kind of feeling
Its late friday night, most of my friend have gone already. A few still sit around the house, playing winning eleven or some mahjong. I watch some of them leave, walking them out of my gate and to the nearby bus stop.
As the buses drive off, dissapearing into the concrete jungle, I walk slowly back to my home. A thought springs to mind. I realize that I never will be a student at Fairfield again. Its a funny kind of feeling, a kind of sad depression mixed with longing and unease. I would never need to endure Ms Hia's airhead rambles or Ms Ong's self-righteous preaching or Ms Wong's angry raving. I won't get to laugh at Yunxing's lame ass jokes or hear Sherman's brilliant quips or refute Clarence's next frivolous idea. Its bleakly depressing.
Its true what they say I guess, that you only miss something after you've lost it. School never had been my favourite place to be. It still isn't I guess, because its not school that I miss. Frank Herbert taught me something when I read Dune, parting with people is a sadness, but a place is just a place.
As I walk up the driveway, I see my friends laughing and shouting at the latest goal. At least I'll see them today.
Your Catfish Friend
If I lived my life in catfish forms,
in skin and whiskers at the bottom of a pond;
and you were to come when the moon was shining,
and stand there at the edge of my affection.
and think, "It's beautiful here by this pond.
I wish somebody was with me."
I'd be there with you, your catfish friend,
and drive such loneliness from your head,
and suddenly you would be at peace,
knowing I'm your friend at least.
Your catfish friend at the bottom of a pond,
Your friend forever, in a catfish form.
Adapted from the
poem by Richard Brautigan
Blackbird, by the Beatles
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arive
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of a dark black night.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of a dark black night.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Don't feel much like talking, so I'll just lazily post song lyrics and poems.
Have fun folks.
Inspiration
Sight to thought, thought to mind
Inspiration, the writer finds
Mind to pen, pen to rhyme
Words are wind, the writer's mime
Shoot the breeze, read the times
Anything at all that comes to mind
Anyday from fall to spring
writing the words the wind brings
What do you think?
A Farewell of Sorts
I walk through the door of my home. It’s late and the hall is dark. Switching a lamp on, I glance at the clock which curtly displays the time. I notice that its 11.30. "She'd be boarding the plane about now" I think; "the plane that is taking her away".
I walk slowly up the stairs, reminiscing the times we had together. I remember the laughs, the smiles, the riotous sessions of Sunday school and the hilarious youth meetings. I sit on my bed and strum my guitar softly, trying to take my mind of it. The memories linger however. A profound sadness fills me. Silently, I look at the few photographs I have of her, recalling with fondness the joy that always surrounded her. I realize that I am losing a very dear friend for what seems to be a very long time.
I lay on my bed and attempt to sleep but rest evades me. The sounds of her voice linger in my mind. She made Singapore a sunnier and more innocent place but now she’s got a ticket to ride and our lives will never be the same again.
Here’s to you Jeanette. You’d better remember Singapore, it’s a darker place without you.
