Alien Landscape

the boy is a sprite.

i have to go back to writing. posting entries in denial here is just not enough. i close my eyes and even then read my eyelids like parchment. cramming my head with foolish information for the examinations just makes it even worse. useless words just twist and spread like vines across the page. i hate institutions that use up this much paper. and it is even more hateful when people scoff at my insisting to recycle paper. can't hardly blame them though. they don't have trees falling and thumping upon their hearts. like nature's wardrums. wouldn't be nice to sit upon a branch of a walking tree? like in Lord of the Rings with the Ents. mr Tolkien must've the same wardrums in him as i do.
the computer is infected with spyware and there is no access to launchcast. lack of music makes me edgy. silence is not necessary when i am not dangerously angry. empty spaces is unnerving. walls need to be covered, white blanks need to be written on, ignorance needs to be punished. isn't emptiness just so Painful? thank God for filling all that dark blue with stars. my limbs will be tangled in perpetual writhing if the stars go out.
of course, here in Marsiling there are no stars to be seen. but when you look out of the window, there are those sky-scratchers. erected so sturdily like tent poles to keep the sky from falling on us. they get higher and higher and the sky gets further and further. and i am here. at the top. the sky pressing down on my head with its great cloud palms. ah perhaps that is what mimes are pushing at after all. the sky. the greed. are mimes employed by the government to keep the sky that far off?
i love the name of my hometown. Marsiling. isn't it beautiful? better than Dover definitely. what a harsh hurtful name. it sounds like a dove-hunter. and better than the Bedok. now that sounds like somekind of a choke. apt though.
Marsiling is a beautiful name.
my ears rang again. they are straining from the music and F's loud voice. i wonder sometimes if he is a banshee. with those large watery eyes of his, the loud voice and the detached child-likeness. so very like the uncaring banshee. but i am not fooled. that boy is no banshee. he is a sprite. that explains his absurd, annoying love for the whole wide pretty world. that crazy boy loves without hope.
or maybe this dreadful dull ache is me loving through him.
good thing i'm in love with him. because i won't be able to stand him otherwise.
Posted by NHJ 4/09/2005 12:10:00 am

Saturday, April 09, 2005