Sunday, April 18, 2004
All this weekday tiredness is getting on my nerves. By rights I should be asleep by now in preparation for tomorrow, but my Sunday late-nights are precious to me, because that's about the only time of the week I can feel relaxed enough to indulge in a bit of catharsis and nonsense writing. It's a great pleasure to spill 1000+ words of pure nonsense into Microsoft Word. Blogging demands a great deal more restraint.
Saturday was marvellous. After NUS IBO training, I decided to pay a long-overdue visit to Ghim Moh and partake of its hawker centre food. Ghim Moh has changed from when I last saw it, though. Thanks to ugly upgrading works, the place has lost a substantial bit of its rustic, ol' neighbourhood charm. Nonetheless, the food is still good. It gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling - being in a hot, sticky, greasy hawker centre tucking into
kway chap and sipping on iced sugar cane juice. Pure heartlander bliss. Though the crowds of green-and-white clad RJC students rather spoiled the effect. My mind refused to reconcile 'prestige JC' with 'hawker centre'.
On my way back to the MRT station, I spotted a family of mynahs: 2 adults, 1 fledgling. In the sweltering April afternoon heat, I stood and watched, fascinated, as the adults and their young one played tug-of-war with the dismembered corpse of a lizard. Alas for the poor lizard, that old tail-shedding trick hadn't been successful. One of the adult birds held the tail in its beak while the other had the rest of the body, and the fledgling hopped around its parents begging for the morsels. At once I wished that I had my camera.
After Ghim Moh I made my way to my most dearly beloved Woodlands Regional Library, where I then spent the entire afternoon in bookworm bliss. It was a luxury, yes, but one that was well worth the time because I came out of it feeling somewhat more literate, enlightened and much happier. Books are my lifeblood. Woodlands Regional is book heaven, and going there is a near-religious experience. But then of course I have no life. :-)
One of these days, when I find the time, I will camp out there from morning till night. Anyone desperately lacking a life and willing to join me?
For those who are interested to find out what I was blabbering about in the last post,
De Profundis is an extremely long letter composed by Oscar Wilde, addressed to his lover Lord Alfred Douglas, while being in prison for homosexual offences. And yes, it's definitely in English. Oh, and it's also a love letter, albeit a highly philosophical and unconventional one. Randy SMS it definitely wasn't.
words were spilled on Sunday, April 18, 2004
