2008-05-05
Life in a hot air balloon.
I like...
the sound of the Malaysian railway train echoing up into my room through the open windows...
successfully isolating the egg yolk in my yong tau foo soup without breaking it...
putting on a hoodie jacket and walking in the rain...
rolling down grassy hills (minus the dangers of peacock droppings and colliding into fellow rollers-down-hill)...
winter light...
lying on the backseats of cars and looking at the world pass by upside down...
antiques and other old things full of unseen histories...
launching tickle attacks out of nowhere on my poor unsuspecting sister...
opening boxes, especially wooden ones with carvings on them and interesting latches...
the touch of running water...
blueskying...
waking up at ll in the morning and knowing I can do it again the next morning, and the next next morning, and the next next next morning...
having things to look forward to...
the smell of old books still in good condition...
spontaneity :D
collecting strange things...
blowing on windows to frost them up and writing or drawing in the vapour...
putting my hand near computer or television screens and feeling the little prickles of static...
real happy laughter...
funky socks...
going somewhere quiet and plugging my earphones in so I am deaf to everything but the music...
listening to stories...
watching airplanes landing and taking off from the viewing gallery at Changi...
flopping over railings and letting the blood rush to my head and fingers...
watching scary shows with creepy kids that terrorise the hapless grown-ups in them...
notebooks and thick thick stacks of blank paper...
speaking in sound effects...
things that remind me of fairy tales, circuses and carnivals, myths and legends, the stuff of fantasy...
immersing myself in a book for hours on end in my trademark book-trance...
making the people I care about happy...
exploring new places...
english tea and scones with jam and clotted cream...
intricately designed clocks and timepieces...
cold windy weather...
shopping for presents...
playing with dogs (even though some of them try to eat me)...
chasing pigeons...
sinking into the state of dreaming yet still remaining conscious that I'm dreaming so I can choose to do whatever I want (i think it's called lucid dreaming)...
talking shit with the usual suspects, and sometimes not even having to say anything...
standing in the midst of a mass of soap bubbles and trying to pop them before they burst...
creating occasions to celebrate every day...
Let the wind blow, let the dust settle
And only pick up the pieces when they can't cut you anymore
Like smooth weathered bits of broken bottle in the seaside sand
feimao at 9:24 p.m.