I really really want to go home. I want to sit for midyears with my classmates and curl up with the memory of your smile instead of prepping till ungodly hours and having to actually socialize while PMSing.
I’m just sad. And I want to go home so badly. 4 more days.
stay on my side tonight
I leave for Brunei tonight with a roll of Portra 160vc, Fuji400 and some left over professional black and white film in Josh Chan’s camera that he’s lending me. I’ve never shot in professional or black and white before, how exciting! Though I’d rather not go and take midyears with my lovely classmates that I miss terribly. ):
And you were accepted, of course.
You moved from Boston to Paris into a little apartment on the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis. I showed you our neighborhood, my bars, my school. I introduced you to my friends, my parents. I listened to your texts, your singing, your hopes, your desires, your music. You listened to mine. My Italian, my German, a bit of Russian. I gave you a walkman. You gave me a pillow.
And one day, you kissed me.
Time went by, time flew and everything seemed so easy, so simple, so free, so new, so unique. We went to the movies, we went dancing, we went shopping, we laughed, you cried, we swam, we smoked, we shaved, sometimes for no reason, or for a reason. Yes, sometimes for a reason. I brought you to the academy, I studied for my exams, I listened to your singing, to your hopes, your desires, your music. You listened to mine.
We were close, so close, ever so close. We went to the movies, we swam, we laughed. You screamed, sometimes for a reason and sometimes without. Time went by, time flew. I brought you to the academy, I studied for my exams. You listened to my Italian, German, Russian, French. I studied for my exams. You screamed, sometimes for a reason. Time went by for no reason. You screamed for no reason.
I studied for my exams, my exams, my exams. Time went by, you screamed, you screamed, you screamed.
If I’ve forgotten what to say
that’s because all words are dust
Let’s start over.
My name is Heidi. I am 17. I enjoy watching sad indie movies that make me cry only because when I was a little girl I realised that whenever a glamorous actress on the telly cried someone will be there to hold her. I am not glamorous. Neither am I a little girl anymore and no one holds me when I start to cry. But at least I get halfway there.
I take photos with a plastic japanese camera without batteries and hide my pictures in a Zara shoebox the colour of the midnight sky. I cannot put them on my walls because my parents will ask questions; try to make sense of the people I meet and why I have renounced digital cameras. But they are not interested in writing 3 pages essays on Carol Ann Duffy or the incongruity of a daily routine, and they (dramatic pause,) don’t understand.
And if you happen to see me, I’d prefer if you didn’t say hi. Just throw your arms around me and let me whimper till its awkward. Pretend that we both do not know that this will eventually turn into a poem on a night when I cannot sleep.
Sit amongst the wallpaper with me. I will pluck you a two dimensional pastal Fuschia that will betray its name. Wait for my film to expire and my notes to study themselves and my breasts to arrive. Trawl Oxfam for vintage 35mm cameras that I don’t know are going to work or not but buy anyway.
I don’t want you to think its crazy to rewatch Veronica and Logan’s kissing scene, the one with Something Happens’ Momentary Thing over and over again because it’s most beautiful.
I want to somehow put Lou O’Bedlam’s name in here because in the future when he is something big I can proclaim that I discovered him when he was still on flickr.
I want to trade you a gold coin for every nasty word I said to you. I want to buy it all back so you can patch up your heart with gold. I will waste an entire roll of film on you and not complain about the cost. I want to do this for me and I am selfish; but please, please.
Let’s start over.
Is it nothing; or less, or less, or less…
We’re holding on I guess, I guess, I guess…
I don’t want to write about the flaws of men.
I want to write about
their incomparable
beauty, the way I adore
every angle
of their hand,
the boat-like shape
of their torso,
the animal
that lives
in their arms.
I want to say: I’m certain
the jelly-like thing
that rests behind
your forehead
is sadness.
I think I can take it out
with my mouth.
I want to write:
You are better
than cherries.
By the time I finish typing
I will have fashioned
exquisite statues
out of regular men.
Then I turn
on the news,
or I turn
the page
of some newsprint,
or I turn
in my bed
and the things
I see men do
are not fit for poetry.
This poem is not about
the inability to forgive.
It’s about wanting
to find an island
where the good men live,
wanting to take a boat there
and arrive with flags
and flowers
in a kaliedescope
of colors,
wanting to embrace them
like a straightjacket
and only let go
for long enough
to write a mountain
of poems
that paint men
as beautiful heroes
and this time,
really mean it.
Gee thanks, UCAS.
Electrical supply problems on opening day! Must be a ton of people rushing to apply, sigh.
In other psuedo happier news, apart from crying from all the smoke thats in my eyes from our burnt bridges (gosh I’m making this sound a lot cheerier despite the terribly depressing content, see Sab, I can delude myself into happiness when I want to); Celine’s party was a lot of fun, despite it being 8647miles away and Josh terrorising me with her dog
I miss my friends, like the long MRT ride home from Clementi with Charm. And most of all, I miss my brain and my discipline. And I, I would rather feed your memory to the river with pockets made of stones than to wait for it sublimate into my heart; made of stones.
Do you see this? This hole I have dug?
I can throw anyone I want into it.
Filed under: Jesus wants me for a sunbeam | Tags: Rocket Science, Saturday Looks Good to Me
Rocket Science is awesome, kinda makes me remember why I joined debates in the first place, most especially the first scene. WordPress won’t let me embed videos from veoh here, but you can watch it here (click!).
Apart from the realising that I would do exceedingly well in a future career in wasting time, I don’t really have time for anything else.
give me a ride because I’m as fucked up inside as your car
a broken radiator and a broken heart
isn’t that where stories like this always start?
and sing me a song about the things that go wrong around here
and I’ll try not to fall asleep
in the backseat
Its easier to get through the day when there are things to stall; Burn Notice episodes to watch and midyears to ignore. Class pot luck later tonight, BBQ tomorrow, SG outing on Thursday and Celine’s birthday party on Sunday! But I really, really need to get started on studying and Econs WWP4 before BM comes along (and Max has given me full permission to violate little Mark at the airport, yay).
But then again things like watching Powder Blue for the 6th time and tumblr’s Daily Cute Boy are more exciting than equity in post independent Southeast Asian states.
dry my eyes so you won’t know
dry my eyes so i won’t show
i know you’re right behind me
Transnational Crime and Security Council! 
Model ASEAN was pretty fun, with Team India and ATCSC; I miss my council already, especially staying up with Rachel and Franzx to complete the damn reso and bitching about Vicechair’s complete biasness to Japan, or my alliance with North Korea ‘against the global hegemony of the United States of America’. Team India managed Best Country Profile, 1 Council Best Delegate and another Honourary Mention, yay.
“The delegation of India would like to remind their delegate to the Science and Technology Council to maintain decorum and stop flirting!”
I might not be able to go to BM after all, with the possible change in date and clashing with exams. ):
It’s cold as you fade into the sun.
Where’d you go?
“We don’t appreciate what we have until it’s gone. Freedom is like that. It’s like air. When you have it, you don’t notice it.”
-Boris Yeltsin
it was just an idea, just pie in the sky.
Lexus:
I used to love a man once
And I gave him my heart,my soul, my love
But that wasn’t good enough for him.
Who’s gonna love me big daddy-o?
[shoots himself]
Lexus:
I didn’t understand why; now i do.
How lonely you must feel inside without love
Do you want love in your life?
Charlie:
Yeah
Lexus:
Then open your heart.
Powder Blue was mind blowing, with a bloody amazing soundtrack to go with. I had my face blotchy with snot and tears smearing down my cheeks by the time I got to the end. It was amazing, pure genius.
For the werewolf, for the werewolf
Have sympathy
Cause the werewolf, he is someone
Just like you an me
