Tuesday, July 31, 2007

in todays news, the korean christians in captive under the taliban movement has said that they will kill if their demands are not met by wed 730 GMT. two out of the group of 23 has since been shot, the first was their leader and pastor on what would have been his birthday, last wednesday..
lets keep them in prayers.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

these are salted egg crabs, and yes they taste as good as it looks.... jusstttttt aweeesooommmme
on this side is rice dumplings, freshly made, on the other, a car workshop!
poker time!!
my first ostrich meat
congrats, mr and mrs drieberg, 777

a cost for the cause?

dear jess,

i dreamed i found my cable. and in reality i havent. my camera cable is missing, hence my long silence for i wanted to mail you pictures instead. i think they speak louder than my broken english does.

having woken up from the dream and into reality, my cable is still missing.


perhaps i really do have nothing to say and its my frail attempt to try to tell you what's happening in my oh so interesting life.

or not.

im a letter druggie, in case you have somehow failed to notice that. in which i usually and only ever write when i am emotional. and hence when i don have such a drug, i write letters to you about my camera cable. *blink*

its like one of those conversations when you just sit and stare and update each other that the school will be showing a superb musical this weekend and you got the tee shirt which you think rocks or that tomorrow's a long day.

but really. there was something initially.

simply this.

after more than three years of doing what i call an obscure job and the prospects apparently might grow, do i then share what i have taken years to build? here, take the books and materials i use so that someday you can be better than me.

remember those aunties that leave out the ingredient in the recipe? i get them now, completely. and yet we still think the food rocks. imagine.

once a druggie, always a druggie.


Saturday, July 14, 2007

heaven be my strength

dear scholar,

im not sure if i preferred it when my life was dull and filled with naps which i enjoyed thoroughly or that it has now ejaculated into a frenzy of hard work, fear, and frustration. when the confusion of an established and renown person telling you that your work is good enough for publication versus that who has power over you telling you that your work is merely surface.

i vowed to take it in stride, to learn and improve and to slowly open the pages praying that my emotions will not be involved. and that i did, trying to be a true professional, until i saw words from what was suppose to be the scholar that reads etc, etc, .. "for heavens sake"

had my unscholarly-scholarly only heaven knows what made her so irrate that she had to bring heaven into the matter? certainly i admit that my writting had been less than scholarly but at least it should only make that one of us in this case.

this "thing" that i had believed i was destined to do, this "thing" that i had continually fought for, this "thing" that has made me poor and without a proper job for hundreds of years, this "thing" that still continues to persist that it stays with me and that it will be worth it and in the process let me loose my sanity. this "thing" that keeps me constantly angry and disatisfied, confused and incapable.

how sweet would life be if i was a comic artist.


Sunday, July 08, 2007

i am edgar

there is no other name that knows my pain
than the beautiful annabel lee
loved by him in the chilling wind
edgar's annabel lee.

dear jess

there is a curiosity in when you read, you find that his love for her was great. the curiosity lies in what happened when he died, and not so much she. for edgar allan poe, the great, the mysterius, revealed bodies in his backyard, of the women, all he had loved.

how can one love so greatly and murder so lightly?

we are all great contradictions. our love and passion as much as our hate and despise for the people and the things we are.

do i want to be annabel or edgar? am i either?

as much as we are repetitious, we are all contradictions.

on that note.

for the moon never beams without bringing me dreams,
of the beautiful annabel lee;
and the stars never rise but i feel the bright eyes
of the beautiful annabel lee;
and so, all the night-tide, i lie down by the side
of my darling, my darlin, my life and my bride,
in the sepulcher there by the sea,
in her tomb by the sounding sea.

-part of edgar's annabel lee-