monoceros blogsThe violets explode inside me
When I meet your eyes
Then I'm spinning and I'm diving
Like a cloud of starlings
Every time I hear the word "starlings" or picture the flight of a swallow, I feel as if I've touched something beautiful.
When an Elbow song began playing the other day and I heard the phrase "A cloud of starlings," I stopped to dwell on the word, thinking on how it ranks fairly high on my list of favorite words. Perhaps it's the "star" that's nestled in the name or the "ling" suffix that makes it seem like a small, perfect bell that would fit in my palm.
Another bird that enthralls me is the swallow. The name is just a tad less beautiful but the image it conjures within me - the flight of a slender bird with long wings and a deeply forked tail - never fails to inspire me. Its French name is even lovelier - "hirondelle." I once read a book about a girl who was fascinated by poisons and mysteries; she also loved riding about town on her mother's bicycle and it was called "l'hirondelle."
Sous le vieux pont, les hirondelles
Deux fois l'an bâtissent leurs nids;
Le bonheur nous les rend fidèles
~ Charles Grandmougin
Starlings, by Elbow
When The Swallows Come Back To Capistrano, by The Ink Spots
Birds of a Feather, by The Rosenbergs
I've worked more eleven-hour days than I can count (or rather, so many that I've given up counting). A slow death, I'm certain. To stay alive - barely - I've been stealing minutes to read an old book about chiasmuses. It relaxes me, amuses me, reminds me of the old job I had when I first read this book (a decade ago; a few lifetimes ago).
Between yellowing pages, I found a chiasmus that really hit home -
Is this not the true romantic feeling - not to desire to escape life, but to prevent life from escaping you?" ~ Thomas Wolfe
I've often asked myself, where does it go, this life? Where indeed.
I can't wait to take it back.
Life's A Bitch, by Shooter
Lust For Life, by Kay Hanley
Life On Mars, by Anggun
The originals (it's been a long time since I last listened to these classics; am happy to have found them again):
Lust For Life, by Iggy Pop
Life On Mars, by David Bowie
Songs are re-made. TV shows too. "Life On Mars" is a current favorite (yes, and it features that David Bowie song). The original UK version, that is. There's a US version, and even a Spanish one too, but I have a thing for the BBC production (and the superb John Simm who plays DCI Sam Tyler).
In December 2008, a friend and I were strolling through a flea market in Buenos Aires when I spied a small shop selling old postcards. I became fascinated, wondering about the writers and the recipients. What stories did the cards hold, what secrets did they reveal? I felt like an intruder, reading someone else's private words, or rather, having them read to me by my friend (I had not learned Spanish yet then). I ran my fingers along the scores of cards; I knew already that I wanted to take one home. The idea of carrying home someone's postcard from another century - and another country, in another language - made me giddy with delight. Did the writer and recipient stay friends? Or lovers? Did they drift apart, never to see or write each other again?
There were too many to pore over; I couldn't choose. Instead, I decided to select one based on the picture, wanting to let chance dazzle me with whatever story the picture accompanied.
I picked one with a sprig of Lily-of-the-Valley, a flower I adore but have never touched or seen in person. I flipped it over and tried to read the message. To my horror, the handwriting confounded me. It was too cursive and I couldn't fathom some of the letters! So I found it difficult to translate; I could only determine the words that were written clearly enough and that I could recognize from what rudimentary Spanish I had picked up. But the choice had been made; I paid the shopkeeper and tucked the card into my bag.
Last week, I picked up the card again to have another go at reading the message. There was mention of a "Carnaval," a major one, I reckoned. That day, I had also read in the newspaper about the seven-year-old girl selected to be Rio's Carnival queen; it was the time for Carnivals in South America, the height of summer. Summer carnivals probably took place around the same time many years ago as they do today. And my writer had gone to one.
On the front, I could read easily "a thousand kisses" and "soon enough." There were other words too - written among the small bell-shaped flowers - but the card had darkened with age and it was hard to make out what those words were.
I suppose my little card will retain its mystery. It sits on the dining table, leaning against a tray of candles, taunting me with its spidery words and mottled patches.
Today, on February 14, it is exactly a hundred years old.
Postcards From Far Away, by Coldplay
Postcards, by Alexandre Desplat
"Human beings are divided into mind and body. The mind embraces all the nobler aspirations, like poetry and philosophy, but the body has all the fun."
~ Woody Allen.
Not by me. I wish I had a shot as beautiful as this.
Your Body Is A Wonderland, by John Mayer
A few weeks ago, I began clearing some boxes in my study and found a stack of farewell notes from teachers and classmates. They were written just before I left secondary school in the mid 90s.
Right at the top was the one my desk partner wrote me. That desk partner was DSD.
"Dearest V______,
This paper is too nice to write on. I almost felt like keeping it for myself. Anyway, the time has finally come for us to go our separate ways. From the bottom of my heart, I would like you to know that it has been wonderful knowing you. Truly a great joy. Though I didn't know you very well in Sec 1 and 2, I got to know you a little better in Sec 3, and got to know you well in Sec 4, I want to say that you're very pleasant, responsible, talented (both in your musical and literary skills) and that you've been a great friend. Come to think of it, we've been classmates for 4 years.
All the months seemed to have passed by in a flash. In this year, I've gotten to know you a whole lot better, and I never knew that we have quite a lot of common interests and similar views on certain issues.
You're a great person to work with coz I've found it very enjoyable working together with you on projects and assignments. We seem to get things done easily and quickly. (Don't know whether you felt the same way. Or I am just very thick-skinned). Anyway, maybe in the future, we could start a business together, after obtaining our degrees in Mass Communications (let's hope we get them. Maybe even with first-class honours). For all you know, it could happen.
Remember to keep in touch after graduation, and let's hope we'll be able to make that backpacking trip of ours materialize in two years' time. Remember to tell me when you're going to Canada. I'll always remember you as the girl who's absolutely nuts about unicorns, mythical stuff, books, writing and in love with Canada. When you write your first book, don't forget to dedicate it to your friends!
Finally, good luck and all the best in your "O" Levels and I am sure you can pass with flying colours!"
Well, I didn't major in Mass Communications or move to Canada. I stayed in Singapore for junior college, then went to Michigan where I majored in English. DSD, though, received her degree in Mass Communications. We never did go backpacking together but DSD and I made many journeys of our own, collecting memories and experiences as if they were the only things worth having (many times, they were). We never started a business, but we worked for the same editor, though at different times in our careers, and at different publication houses. We still have many common interests and eerily similar experiences and the same views on a good number of things.
While we were never schoolmates or classmates again, I like to think that DSD and I never quite went our separate ways. For over a decade - and then some - we remained close: writing to each other, enthusing about music and books and dreams, calling international when we needed to hear a friendly voice, taking a rock-climbing course together, rising early to enjoy the quiet of an empty beach, treading water in the sea while we gazed at the clouds and ships, and perhaps in the near future, we will travel to a distant country. It would be our first journey together. The one we spoke of 16 years ago.
Don't forget, DSD. And please remind me often too.
Friend Like You, by Josh Radin