william blake kills me.


and so, this is clearly yet another bout of procrastination. this entry is going to be exactly that! i'm leaving this window open, and in moments of boredom (which i suspect, will be terribly often), i'm going to type in a paragraph. THIS WILL BE SO EXCITING, like a single-person roundrobin.

i was reading one of those scholarly criticisms websites earlier on and was its a little disturbing to realize that the words are just washing over you and you have to read the sentences over and over sometimes, to grasp what they're trying to say.
here, have a go:

the Bard's vacillation within the lyric between prophecy and self-doubt mirrors an experiential evolution of the meta-voice behind Songs of Innocence and of Experience which he exemplifies, a progression which "helps us to understand why he now refers to himself as 'Ancient'." "The Voice of the Ancient Bard" 's explicit admission of its status as rhetoric undercuts its function as prophecy and implicates itself as one example of the "folly" it denounces: "At the last, the Bard sees himself aright: as guide in need of guidance, a mental traveller whose prophetic certainty and optimism has been so undermined that 'care' threatens to be his only knowledge."

and it's one of those nice and mildly cool nights and suddenly right, i miss CAP alot. a wave of it, because it reminds me of the nights at Eusoff Hall. very dark, with all the red bricks, which i just realized, is identical to the ones used in my hdb flat. it's really quite vague, but what i do see is shuffling down the stairs after JCDrama, kinda zonked.

and then i saw my pair of (unused) house slippers lying around, and it reminded of 406 days when i shuffled around in class in them because i found my school shoes really stiffling and my mum hated my walking in class with my bare socks because they'd get grimy. so she bought me these grey house slippers and what was wonderful that i didn't feel odd at all wearing them in class. the point here is that i'd never do that in cjc.

and Frente's Bizarre Love Triangle is the song for infatuation.

and the printer has konked out on me again. this time however, it's not doing the irritating Blinking Light Morse Code. oh no, nasty plastic lump is doing the Silent Treatment. which i'm

(and i just sneezed. bless me.)













and clearly, i have a short attention span.

in a burst of morbidity, i am going through this site by a coroner and it's really interesting. like did you know, that the fastest way to get the cadaver's temperature is of course the rectal way. but to be more accurate, they insert a thermometer from an incision on the side into the LIVER. this is great man, not only am i dead, but i have people probing my body with funny sticks! NO WAY. this might be one of the top reasons why i would want to die in au naturale, so that they won't see any reason for me to have to go through an autopsy.

also, "Medical Examiners always make the "down cut" to the left of the belly button when making a Y incision at autopsy. This is done because there is a leftover tendon on the right side from the ambilical cord. They won't cut it to show respect for the way we are born."

also, "the human nose is so fragile that morgue attendants and morticians pinch-up the sheet over the nose. This is done because the pressure of the material on the nose can deform it, flattening or turning it sideways." this implies of course, that MICHAEL JACKSON is not a sick pervert who miraculously got acquited, but that he is even beyond our usual speculations of being unhuman. HE IS A ZOMBIE. it makes complete logical sense, that's why his nose behaves so strangely - it's coming to terms with being ded.

i realized that i have recently been very anal (and no, nothing to do with thermometers and such) in the sense that i have been reaping much pleasure (and man, this really just sounds so wrong) from being neat. when did this dawn on me? when i looked at the notes that i've been writing and feel happy that it's all methodically bulleted and uh, colour co-ordinated. and then in another bout of procrastination, i organized my wardrobe and uh, arranged all my hanging clothes according to COLOUR so that now when you open my wardrobe, it's nicely in a gradient of various shades. and looking at it made me so very HAPPY.

this is quite a cause for concern! because now that i think of it, the other day, i bought my current favourite candy, Tropical Skittles, emptied it into this bowl and with much glee, proceeded to seperate the candy by colour so that it kind of became a pie chart, and then i ate it by colour too. hmm. of course, if i tell my mom about my recent fixation with such anal details, she'd laugh her arse off which! i can't really blame her for, considering the dire state of my room.

here's a nice trip down Nostalgia Lane: http://www.progressiveboink.com/archive/sesamestreet.html! i was going to plug in specifically to nadya huang yanyan, then i realized i got it off her friend's blog, so she's probably already seen it, poop. the point is! seseme's street were good times. before elmo monopolized everything - like who made THAT decision huh. old school muppets were awesome, and the animation was always brilliant and cool, even then. the lovely thing was that it can be so poignant sometimes and there are still many images/skits that are still stuck in my head.

Lovely Things I Remember About Seseme's Street:
- the scene where Oscar the Grouch married, and they were both very cranky and Maria cried. and the bride (i forgot her name, but she was green and furry too) had cold feet, and it was just hilariously beautiful when after the wedding was done, people threw pieces of garbage at them instead of flowers.

- then there was this skit with gordon (this bald black guy) just jogging around new york but it was beautiful because of firstly, the camera-work and secondly, the SOUNDTRACK. i can't remember it now, but i'm sure it must have been good if i can still remember the scene that is seemingly static.

- and the LATINO FLAMINGO seranading maria with opera, below her balcony.

- the parody of cyndi lauper's "girls just wanna have fun" about uh, cereal

- and oh oh! i LOVE this one. it was a short feature about kids going to the beach and building AWESOME sandcastles and everything about it in retrospect, is so poignant from the girl doing the voice-overs and the (rather sad and cold) beach. i still think of this feature everytime i'm at the beach.



thinking about it now, i would want the dvd set of seseme's street. but only the late 80s-early 90s seasons though, because after that it was all crud. maybe because i didn't like the new interpretation of characters *eew elmo* or the INTRODUCTION of new characters. or maybe, i just grew up.

it's 7.17AM, and i have effectively been online for 6 hours 47 minutes, yawned 5 times, scoffed at three supposed lit essays, alarmed how i never noticed the disturbingly strong sexual connotations in a seemingly innocent poem and also, re-read three and a half chapters of DracoSinister.

it's quite a misty morning, and really pretty.