24 March 2009

From the Time's feature on "90 Years of Vampires On the Screen", comes Blacula (1972-73), in which

"William Marshall stars as Mamuwalde, an African prince transformed into a vampire and then imprisoned in a sealed coffin by Count Dracula, only to find himself released in the 1970s. Although it received rather pallid reviews upon its release, it inspired a sequel, Scream, Blacula, Scream (above) and remains a cult classic."

Yeah, as in BLA-cula.... WTF??!!! I just can't stop laughing.

But who could forget the most adorable one of them all - The Count? :-D


I just got myself one of those oh-my-gawwwd-I-can't-wait-for-this-to-grow-out-fringe. I'm such a genius sometimes.

And another thing.

While I have nothing against "let's still be friends" per se, people who say that (I think most people only say that to get their sorry asses out of more trouble) but don't mean it, or worse, start doing even MORE unfriendly things to you, should be shot - up their asses.


23 march 2009

I just caught the movie. And I liked it, very, very much.

Something about the landscape and colours.... especially the colours - so, so beautiful.

And something about the intensity of vampires that was so intoxicating - so, so intoxicating....


18 march 2009

"So rude!"

Yes indeeeeed, Miss "I'm-Not-Wearing-Underwear-Today".

How about we go out someday wearing our respective T-shirts and see what other people think, yes?

* * * * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, here's an interesting exercise in problem-solving.

You have a mediocre manager and an outstanding manager. You also have a territory performing well, and a territory performing poorly (though neither has reached its potential). Which manager do you put in charge of which territory?

* * * * * * * * * *

Break a mirror and it's 7 years of bad luck.

I must have broken a fucking mirror somewhere along the way.

Yay me.

Some people don't deserve to have arms

12 march 2009

Today, on the way back from lunch, I saw Kungfu Boy walk towards a traffic light and kick the button.


I am never touching traffic light buttons with my hands again!

Liar, Liar, pants on fire

11 march 2009

The telemarketer from Prudential insisted that he wasn't trying to sell me something. In fact, he sounded rather indignant. He wanted only to "tell me more" about some plan. And he needed "only 3 minutes" of my time.

So I listened, though I KNEW in my heart that he was lying through his teeth and that after telling me more, he would try to make me part with my hard-earned money AND in doing so, keep me on the phone for more than 3 minutes.

I was right, of course.

Anyway, I had to go and he said he would call me this weekend instead.

And when he calls, I think I shall tell him what I really think about him. I shall tell him that if there's one thing I hate, and especially hate in a MAN - is being LIED to.

A bubbling stream are my dreams

09 march 2009

I dreamt of you last night. I've never dreamt of you before last night, though I sometimes thought about you in these waking hours - the way I thought about people or things when I just needed to be.... distracted. Perhaps you dreamt of me too, under the stardust, somewhere out there. I realised last week that you had only just left this part of my world. This I know, because of your recent status update on that stalker-friendly online network called Facebook. Laugh. You had intended to leave several weeks earlier, but logistical delays had held you back here, long after the goodbyes and after I told you I would miss your classes - which made you light up like a LED torch on a night dive. Laugh. Anyway, your actual departure date doesn't change anything. Seriously. Back to the dream, the wisps of which even now grow thinner and the real world rushes in as I hurry to commit to ink how we held each other - finally - and the realisation that I would always run as I am wont to.... But there, it's gone already. I can see clearly now. It's just a dream. Still, I'll miss having someone look forward to seeing me each time. Pretty much like how some people (myself included of course) have pets because it's wonderful to be greeted at the end of a long day at work with a happy face, hanging tongue, delirious tail, and being jumped / slobbered on / pawed all over. Not that you did any of that. (Nor that I would have minded being jumped on and being pawed. Ha! Ha!) But you were certainly always happy to see me, that I know. What is it like, surrounded by only the sea and the sky, alone with your thoughts? "I'm a loner," you offered. It's a conscious choice, I know. Well, so am I, in a sense. Though I'm not so sure now that it's not by choice. You didn't know how long you would be gone, or how far, or whether you would again return to this part of the world. Wherever the tides take you, I suppose. How apt, that. Wherever life takes me. Too.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ray LaMontagne

She lifts her skirt up to her knees
Walks through the garden rows
With her bare feet laughing

I never learned to count my blessings
I choose instead to dwell
In my disasters

I walk on down the hill
Through grass grown tall
And brown and still
It's hard somehow
To let go of my pain

On past the busted back
Of that old and rusted Cadillac
That sinks into this field
Collecting rain

Will I always feel this way
So empty
And estranged?

And of these cut throat busted sunsets
These cold and damp white mornings
I have grown weary

If through my cracked and dusty
Dime store lips
I spoke these words out loud
Would no one hear me?

Lay your blouse across the chair
Let fall the flowers
From your hair
And kiss me
With that country mouth
So plain

Outside the rain is tapping
On the leaves
To me it sounds like
They're applauding us
The quiet love
We've made

Will it always feel this way
So empty
So estranged?

Well I looked my demons in the eyes
Lay bare my chest
Said do your best
To destroy me

I've been to hell and back
So many times
I must admit
You kinda bore me

There's a lot of things
That can kill a man
There's a lot of ways
To die
Yes, and some already did
And walk beside me

There's a lot of things
I don't understand
So many people lie
It's the hurt I hide that fuels
The fire inside me

Will I always feel this way
So empty
So estranged?

What I want for my birthday

08 march 2009

There was something nasty in the waters.

Almost everyone developed rashes; some worse than the others, though nothing alarming, in the medical sense. Many of us felt the sharp bites of the sea bugs and a few also got stung by jellyfishes. Once, I nearly surfaced into a swarm of the translucent menaces but had the sense for a quick overhead scan after spotting the first of them which just happened to be drifting a few feet away from the main body. Still, one of its fellows got me later on another dive.

I was also stung by something else, which caused both my hands to turn red and swell a little. When I removed my wetsuit much later, I found that the redness had spread to my forearms and also appeared around my knees, though these areas neither hurt nor itched. Vinegar was liberally applied to the affected areas, which seemed to help somewhat. Back on land, E passed me an anti-histamine. The redness came and went during the night and the next day, but was gone by the last day of the trip.

As if the usual outbreak of clogged pores wasn't enough, my face also bore evidence of what appeared to be a violent reaction to the sea water. The lower half of the right side of my face and the area around my chin in particular were covered with what looked like hives. This resulted in me having the appearance of a red bean pudding. The clogged pores have mostly cleared up in the past week but the discoloured patches left behind from the hives still need to be covered up with concealer for now.

I wonder if there's something I can pop before or during dive trips to mediate the outbreaks. I'm already using a sunblock with titanium dioxide but it doesn't seem to be helping much. Otherwise, I would seriously have to consider quitting diving altogether - other people come back from beach holidays with golden tans; I come back looking like something that just crawled out from the sea, and it sure as hell looks nothing like a mermaid!

Maybe I should get myself a dive helmet. Hmmpppfff.

* * * * * * * * * *

No photos. Only half-hearted crappy shots.

I simply haven't been feeling inspired of late.

Whose sai

04 march 2009

The thing about shit is that whichever side you are on - even if you choose neither - some of it will still get onto you.

That's the way shit flies - or splatters for that matter. Everywhere and anywhere.