dream-ery

Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)

the storm comes precisely

at its expected time. 

corroding morale and flooding 

the floorboards of the house.

the cold water touches my feet 

I shiver and pale.

It comes precisely

at its expected time. 

(But God you call me out upon the waters, where feet may fail. In Oceans deep, my faith will stand.) 

reflection

Sometimes I wonder if I am not fully fully thinking. Not using my brain in all its capacity because I have faith. That is dangerous, nonetheless, it is what I am wondering now. Godot doesn’t help haha. Not to mention the multitude of sound, words and other people’s opinions which floods my head everyday, from the moment I wake. So much of my time and capacity is spent on the texts of my study, that I hardly have time to think for myself these days. 

Now playing: Ryuichi Sakamoto - A Flower Is Not A Flower

Maintenant

Maintenant, mes examens est très proche. Mais je suis calme et tranquille. J’aime beaucoup la Litterature, donc il est facile. Les billet pour l’avions sur 2 julliet 2013 - je manque ma famille, mes amis, la maison et ma nation, Singapour. La cuisine, le temps, la langue (haha). J’espere vister à la plage, l’écolé, USS, l’aquarium nouvelle…et mangerai la cuisine Japonaise, Coréen. WAH. Je ne peux pas attendre.

infinitely blessed

If there ever come a point in my life, where I say, ‘Why don’t I have this? Why can’t I afford this? It’s not fair, I wish I had somebody else’s life etc’ somebody must slap me. I am infinitely blessed beyond measure, being able to even have the conception of travelling, to be able to see the world, experience life in another country - but also that I have some of the world’s best people as my friends, and that my family, though with its inevitable flaws and ghosts, is one where I feel intangibly loved and in whom God’s love for me is so visibly manifested. 

‘I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself king of infinite space.’ - Hamlet. Its all about perspective. 

long day’s journey into night/Baudelaire.

EDMUND: Or be so drunk you can forget. (He recites, and recites well, with bitter, ironical passion, the Symons’ translation of Baudelaire’s prose poem.) “Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually.

   Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will. But be drunken.” - Act Four.

‘Stammering is the native eloquence of us fog people.’ 

Don’t personally condone the self-destructivity of their lives, but what  brilliant drama by O’Neill. 

Streams in the Desert, April 30 

“The cows that were ugly and gaunt ate up the seven sleek, fat cows…The thin heads of grain swallowed up the seven healthy full heads.” Gen 41:4&7

Samuel Dickey Gordon once said that the only safe assurance against such a tragedy is to have a “fresh touch with God daily - or even hourly.” My blessed, fruitful and victorious experiences of yesterday have no lingering value to me today. In fact, they can be “swallowed up” or reversed by today’s failures, unless I see them as incentives to spur me on to even better and richer experiences today.

Rêvons

I dream of you                                                                                              

But what does it matter?                                                                               

Thin air cannot be held                                                                                  

By my delicate fingers 

L’heure exquise: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJbqgQxIXA4

Lush language

The luscious clusters of the vine                                                                  Upon my mouth do crush their wine;

- Andrew Marvell, The Garden

(One of my favourite Marvell lines by far)