More Scraps

Bleah I'm embarrassed with the quality of the last post. Didn't do MFA the justice that it deserves. But I was distracted yesterday...first Marcus showing me his discovery of swaths of stick-figure mutilation animations on the net (really quite funny...you simply cannot feel sorry for the little buggers, even if they get their brains ripped out. Dehumanisation at its best =P), and then Greg showing me his newly downloaded Who's Line is it Anyway? clips. And a South Park cartoon about Michael Jackson. Hehheh, I realise I never watched a full South Park clip before, and it's pretty good; funny, but still good. Incisive stuff.

So you see, I really didn't have the concentration to write coherently. The highlight for yesterday was laughing all the way till 0130 this morning.

But yeah. I want to work at MFA. Just filled that in for the section about career plans for the Cambridge form. Shall finish preparing all of the paperwork tonight, no matter what. Then...it'll be off, and the next stage will begin. And hopefully, with the forms beyond recall, life will return to a higher degree of normalcy.

Had a strange dream again this morning. For some reason was back in CHS. And there were some of the Humans people there too, and everyone was in CHS uniform. And, most inexplicably, Stalin was there. We were talking about doing something or other for his son, I can't remember now. But he took me to visit this bookshop, and I had that sensation again, of being in a familiar place. Though the bookshop doesn't exist in real life, it featured in another dream before, I'm sure of it. And Stalin was telling my about his childhood and how he would hang out at that bookshop all the time. And then, we go back to the classroom, there was a scream, and we found Benuel shot in the corridor. And then I woke up.

In other news, was memorising Two Look at Two today. These lines strike me as particularly significant.

Love and forgetting might have carried them
A little further up the mountainside...
...They must have halted soon in any case
With thoughts of the path back, so rough it was
With rock and washout, and unsafe in darkness...
...One last look at the way they must not go,
On up the failing path...

Unfortunately in Singapore you can't have an experience like that. It's only when you're wandering an unknown place that you'll get that kind of feeling, the simultaneous urge to go forward and nagging pragmatism always at your back. The thing is that you know that your fears are unfounded, but you don't know exactly to what extent they are unfounded. A delicious feeling, it is, to walk that tightrope and tempt fate. No, not tempt fate, tempt yourself.

"Love and forgetting..." Hmm. Perhaps I read too much into those two words. What happens when the poet's message intersects with your personal experience to produce a whole new meaning? It's so easy to be led astray by one's own self-indulgence.

pondered by phoenican @ 8.9.05