where thoughts materialise.

So we're into the sixth version of my blog after the last version hung around for a year or so.

Now, a bit of info on this image. This photo was taken one lovely spring afternoon, featuring the iconic Old Well from the UNC Chapel Hill campus. I would like to think of this image as a tribute to my time in UNC Chapel Hill, the awesome friends I made and the memories I now hold dear.

A milestone in my life indeed.

I've dropped the tagboard cos its useless and taking eons to load. But thanks to Angela who helped me set it up, I still do like and will miss the pink interface.

So yeah, it's the sixth one you fellas!

Yours.

27 April 2008

you know you miss my older entries

October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 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

Friday, March 30, 2007

Read this.

"Night.

I'm sitting at my screen reading this story. In turn, the story reads me.

Did I write this story, or was it you, writing through me, the way the sun sparks the fire through a piece of glass?

I see through a glass darkly. I cannot tell whether the moving shapes are on the other side, or whether they are behind me, beside me, reflected in the room.

To avoid discovery I stay on the run. To discover things for myself, I stay on the run.

Here's my life, steel-hitched at one end into my mother's belly, then thrown out across nothing, like an Indian rope trick. Continually I cut and retie the rope. I haul myself up, slither down. What keeps the tension is the tension itself - the pull between what I am and what I can become. The tug of war between the world I inherit an the world I invent.

I keep pulling at the rope. I keep pulling at life as hard as I can. If the rope starts to fray in places, it doesn't matter, I am so tightly folded, like a fern or an ammonite, that as I unravel, the actual and the imagined unloose together, just as they are spliced together - life's fibre knotted into time.

Gently the rope swings back and forth through the mirror, through the screen.
What is my life? Just a rope slung across space."

- Jeanette Winterson, The PowerBook.

* *

Absolutely beautiful. Beautiful. Winterson gets the words right and so aptly in place.

Isn't this what we all face in life? That tension and that somewhat conflicting and contradictory predicament we find ourselves in all the time. And not seemingly helping, this rather confusing perplexity is what many of us would come to know as life.

nimgnoy let the night fall at 12:04 AM

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