Out, Wicked. In Les Miserables!
Empty Tables at Empty Tables - Les Miserables - Michael Ball
Let's hear it for the Asian :)
On My Own - Les Miserables - Lea Salonga
Bring Him Home - Les Miserables - Colm Wilkinson
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Request
I wanted something. So the lady at the reception told me that I had to put in a formal request.
I did.
I took the form, and I filled it in with a pen.
Name, Date of birth, Gender, Request (in not more than 50 words).
I signed at the bottom of the form and handed it to the receptionist.
Being the serpent she was, she used it for toilet paper.
So she told me I had to put in a proper request. I requested for the form once more, and laid my request down on paper with the very same pen, writing the very same words.
I handed it over, but the receptionist's superiors weren't any better.
They decided to "go green", and along with the paper trail leading to incriminating evidence that they had embezzled money from their corporation, they shredded and recycled by written request.
Request in pulp. That was my request.
"Make a formal request by filling in this form" Serpentine said.
I nodded, whipped out the pocket blade and sliced through my arteries. The contract of blood they wanted was made.
Blood that couldn't wipe anything clean, blood that cannot be recycled.
I bled to my death on the receptionist's desk.
She was still trying to wake me up, so that I could put in a written request, because the last one got lost in translation.
Last Request - Paolo Nutini
I did.
I took the form, and I filled it in with a pen.
Name, Date of birth, Gender, Request (in not more than 50 words).
I signed at the bottom of the form and handed it to the receptionist.
Being the serpent she was, she used it for toilet paper.
So she told me I had to put in a proper request. I requested for the form once more, and laid my request down on paper with the very same pen, writing the very same words.
I handed it over, but the receptionist's superiors weren't any better.
They decided to "go green", and along with the paper trail leading to incriminating evidence that they had embezzled money from their corporation, they shredded and recycled by written request.
Request in pulp. That was my request.
"Make a formal request by filling in this form" Serpentine said.
I nodded, whipped out the pocket blade and sliced through my arteries. The contract of blood they wanted was made.
Blood that couldn't wipe anything clean, blood that cannot be recycled.
I bled to my death on the receptionist's desk.
She was still trying to wake me up, so that I could put in a written request, because the last one got lost in translation.
Last Request - Paolo Nutini
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Christmas
Christmas is approaching. Last I noticed, christmas lights and decorations are being put up all over the city. Let's just spread the yuletide cheer well in advance this year.
Merry Ex-mas - Tori Mclachlan
Merry Ex-mas - Tori Mclachlan
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Drain that Blood. Bleed. Bleed out. Die.
There's this new-found craze over vampires lately. The oh-so-average Twilight stuff. Edward Cullen's seriously overrated. Then there's The Vampire Diaries. Oh gosh, they really had to unearth L.J. Smith's soppy teenage vamp novels from ancient history. The only thing probably worth watching would be 'True Blood'. Even so, Season 2 was slightly too draggy to be considered anywhere close to the masterpiece Season 1 was.
But the only thing worth considering is the fact that our obsession with vampire probably reflects our inner demons. We want blood. We want to bleed out each and every thing (or person) that stands in our way.
We don't want to just throw a punch to knock out that adversary. We want blood, and we will get blood. We want all of it, and we'll drain all of it. Bleed, people, bleed.
Haemoglobin-driven.
New Moon's going to be awful.
Bleeding Love - Jamie Scott
But the only thing worth considering is the fact that our obsession with vampire probably reflects our inner demons. We want blood. We want to bleed out each and every thing (or person) that stands in our way.
We don't want to just throw a punch to knock out that adversary. We want blood, and we will get blood. We want all of it, and we'll drain all of it. Bleed, people, bleed.
Haemoglobin-driven.
New Moon's going to be awful.
Bleeding Love - Jamie Scott
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sometimes, we can lay off the darkness of death and sorrow, and indulge in some feel-good, cheesy, corny music
Michael Bublé - "Haven't Met You Yet"
Used to love his music loads. Now, I get slightly amused by his work.
Well, he's a terrific singer and all, but his music is a little too formulaic. It's all simple (sometimes addictively catchy) tunes that recount cheesy, corny romantic experiences. But people just lap it up.
This disturbs me.
Used to love his music loads. Now, I get slightly amused by his work.
Well, he's a terrific singer and all, but his music is a little too formulaic. It's all simple (sometimes addictively catchy) tunes that recount cheesy, corny romantic experiences. But people just lap it up.
This disturbs me.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Weather/Water
I cross the bridge every morning. I cross it again every evening.
I see the calm, still waters. I see them turn turbulent as the skies turn cloudy.
It rained. 3 times so far.
I got caught in it twice. Twice I felt the caress of water droplets. The cold cutting through my dermis, reminding me of my mortality.
I see the droplets gather, forming that formidable surface of water that I see. Thames.
The cruise tour boat chugs by, reminding me of what the titanic would be, if it had been downsized.
Maybe that way, we wouldn't have seen it sink. But then, the Oscars would be that much less credible.
I see OXO. I see Blackfriars. On other days, millenium streaks across the water in the form of a ray of light.
Perhaps I shouldn't cross bridges. Perhaps I should break them with a twist of my finger.
Fall into the water. Cold stabbing through my dermis. Making me whole.
Where my bones can be washed clean. White. Pristine.
May the Thames wash them away the next time the sky turns cloudy.
For Good - Wicked - Idina Menzel & Kristin Chenoweth
I see the calm, still waters. I see them turn turbulent as the skies turn cloudy.
It rained. 3 times so far.
I got caught in it twice. Twice I felt the caress of water droplets. The cold cutting through my dermis, reminding me of my mortality.
I see the droplets gather, forming that formidable surface of water that I see. Thames.
The cruise tour boat chugs by, reminding me of what the titanic would be, if it had been downsized.
Maybe that way, we wouldn't have seen it sink. But then, the Oscars would be that much less credible.
I see OXO. I see Blackfriars. On other days, millenium streaks across the water in the form of a ray of light.
Perhaps I shouldn't cross bridges. Perhaps I should break them with a twist of my finger.
Fall into the water. Cold stabbing through my dermis. Making me whole.
Where my bones can be washed clean. White. Pristine.
May the Thames wash them away the next time the sky turns cloudy.
For Good - Wicked - Idina Menzel & Kristin Chenoweth
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