June 29, 2002
I have been ...

I was caught in the rain yesterday, soaked to a ridiculous level - my jeans were wet rags, my shoes were half-filled leaking buckets. I'm sorry I have been a bit silent. Work days have been long and mostly fruitful, on work nights I lost myself in words or music (sore fingers from the guitar), or in books (sore feet from something-or-rather). Or in people with stories to tell, it seems.

Ten years later after a chance meeting, an email appeared from one of the people whom I used to write many letters to. I've been making new friends.

Thank you all for your birthday wishes - everyone of you are special. The day began sunny though cool, and has clouded over, trapping air pregnant with possibilities in the space between earth and sky.

Posted by sniffles at 11:53 AM | Comments (0)

June 24, 2002
Conversation

Pardon the silence. I have problems with my feet, and it's been most uninspiring. It hasn't completely stopped me walking around and taking photographs obviously, but it's a painful process.

Posted by sniffles at 07:33 PM | Comments (2)

June 20, 2002
Chord sequence

Fresh Antipasto: 3 a.m..

It does not take long during the course of a day, for my Opera window bar to look as if it carries a secret message, or maybe a chord sequence ?

Posted by sniffles at 11:51 PM | Comments (0)

June 17, 2002
City of dreams

One can imagine teleporting from reality to dreams (from War Now!). One finds too, an article on previous work done by physicists in Denmark (with a description on quantum entanglement). So maybe we can beam each other coffees over the 'net if we don't feel so safe about beaming ourselves.

Nielsen Norman are in Sydney ... and I'm not there.

Yet another article on the blog phenomenon. Last year's census results were released today, unfortunately, accompanied by things such as conservative finger-pointing by John Andersen. Old fashioned traditional values is the answer to everything, apparently.

There are still leaves on the trees. Is it autumn, or is it winter? The air breathes a ruthless chill, definitions do not matter, one's senses has no need for words.

Posted by sniffles at 10:47 PM | Comments (2)

June 16, 2002
Cafe on the corner

The cafe on the corner was surprisingly empty. I called Dan to see if he wanted a soy coffee as I was getting myself a hot chocolate - he didn't.

At the counter, the waiter bopped a little to the jazz that was piping through the speakers from somewhere up above, close to the ceiling. Looking sheepish when he finally noticed me standing at the counter, he laughed an apology. "No, no it's good music, "said I. "What is it?"

So somewhere between my order for a regular hot chocolate with full cream milk and no sugar and when it was deftly made with generous squeezes of liquid choc, the chef appeared with five CDs in his hand - I'd seen him cutting up a tomato in the kitchen. He showed me the first two, pointing out the cooler tracks, then handed the other three to me when I expressed curiosity.

And so it was, that I would be this mysterious girl with the non-Monalisa smile who flitted in for a hot chocolate and music appreciation, never to be seen again.

Posted by sniffles at 10:59 PM | Comments (0)

June 14, 2002
Far away

The early-hour morning was shrouded in silence, so pure and heavy that one breathed slowly, cautiously, so as not to interfere with the serious business of waking - a gradual reluctant dawn.

The taxi driver warmed to me after we drove past the train station where there were no buses, telling me a little of his travels some forty years ago before he left his homeland and never went back. All the while, bubbles of amber streetlamps drift past, softened by haze, suspended like half-fallen stars.

Posted by sniffles at 08:38 PM | Comments (1)

June 10, 2002
Impatient

Falling into unwilling sleep, I was afraid I would never wake. This is not natural sleep, this is an abyss of nothingness that swallows you, not knowing how deep, how far, but the silence is stifling, closet in helplessness.

The pressure in my head is unrelenting, my body forgets how to balance. The pharmacy outside is shut, like just about everything else today. Perhaps I don't need the antibiotics anyhow.

One waits with forced patience.

Posted by sniffles at 12:23 PM | Comments (0)

June 04, 2002
Shadows and wind

I would like to learn to play the guitar, but I don't want to have guitar-fingers. I need new gloves.

The wind was bitter-cold, sweet-cold or something-cold, but it was not unpleasant if I'd walked fast enough. Was I too trusting? Did I say too much? Why do I feel so useless even if told otherwise? I need new gloves.

My shadow had disappeared among other shadows, blended and belonged. There was barely enough light to see by, but despite all that I did not have, I had a sense of direction, accompanied with a kind of dread that I would have to spend some time untangling afterwards. Daylight is precious and darkness is cheap.

And later, I would seek unwilling solace in my book. I would think of people I miss and I would be glad to have friends to miss. I didn't want to hear 'good luck', which was what he said. There is a French phrase I would have much preferred.

Posted by sniffles at 08:56 PM | Comments (0)

Addendum

Just interesting to note that the "real" Pete Yorn website didn't show up when I googled for "pete yorn lyrics" yesterday, and I eventually found it via a page off Dawson's Creek Music Guide. I will not comment on the lack of meta-data, and ungoogle-able flashy objects, and so forth. Hmm.

The history of baklava made me hungry.

Posted by sniffles at 03:36 PM | Comments (1)

June 03, 2002
Mirror, mirror

Staring into the deep pool of incessant emptiness, I feel as if I have been looking at it the wrong way, and hence have ended on the wrong side. It takes effort to flip things inside out and occasionally I don't feel so courageous.

Pete Yorn strikes a chord today.

Formatting crud that came out of Word 2K is made a bit easier with HTML-Kit. (Ta, Karl). And which animal are you?

Posted by sniffles at 03:29 PM | Comments (3)