HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Friday, December 28, 2007 dog days for my brother's wedding, me and my sister practised singing in the kitchen. the dog got perplexed and upset, growled and barked at us to shut up. he fell asleep promptly after we left the kitchen. it was all very encouraging. now he is wide awake, giving me a naughty look and wagging his tail. everyone's asleep, so he's free to shuffle around the kitchen like a king of the castle. we keep each other awake. if ralph were in ithaca, i'd never be lonely. i'd also be forced to be very quiet, so that would mean no long phonecalls, no banging of pots and pans. coming back to singapore, i've been booted out of my room, and now im camping out at night in the living room with my sister and grandfather. i shift between the living room and kitchen, which has become my workspace, constantly surrounded by people. it's nice. there's something slightly disturbing and menacing about this city, so i like how our house is filled with australian accents and guitars being strummed. today i took my guitar for stringing at swee lee, and then played at telok ayer park. some people stopped to smile. some even turned around. some reached to take out money, but when they found out i had no money in front of me, they looked sheepish, and walked away. if there were an illegal musician at every street corner, what would this city be like? ive been spending most of the days in the heart of the city. some of my friends have changed, and some i respect immensely; others i see old flaws magnified, a certain venom and bitterness that has never surfaced before, and scares me and chases me away. and the pettiness of a small place, where everyone knows everyone, and the arrogance that comes from knowing everyone, when really, you never knew shit. posted by dawn # 8:53 AM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] running towards strong arms thought candle on the water first day home. i'm tired, emotionally exhausted, ... betrayals hunger pangs papers and winter strangely familiar groundhogs [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Friday, December 28, 2007

dog days

for my brother's wedding, me and my sister practised singing in the kitchen. the dog got perplexed and upset, growled and barked at us to shut up. he fell asleep promptly after we left the kitchen. it was all very encouraging. now he is wide awake, giving me a naughty look and wagging his tail. everyone's asleep, so he's free to shuffle around the kitchen like a king of the castle. we keep each other awake. if ralph were in ithaca, i'd never be lonely. i'd also be forced to be very quiet, so that would mean no long phonecalls, no banging of pots and pans.

coming back to singapore, i've been booted out of my room, and now im camping out at night in the living room with my sister and grandfather. i shift between the living room and kitchen, which has become my workspace, constantly surrounded by people. it's nice. there's something slightly disturbing and menacing about this city, so i like how our house is filled with australian accents and guitars being strummed.

today i took my guitar for stringing at swee lee, and then played at telok ayer park. some people stopped to smile. some even turned around. some reached to take out money, but when they found out i had no money in front of me, they looked sheepish, and walked away. if there were an illegal musician at every street corner, what would this city be like? ive been spending most of the days in the heart of the city. some of my friends have changed, and some i respect immensely; others i see old flaws magnified, a certain venom and bitterness that has never surfaced before, and scares me and chases me away. and the pettiness of a small place, where everyone knows everyone, and the arrogance that comes from knowing everyone, when really, you never knew shit.

posted by dawn # 8:53 AM

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