Friday, March 03, 2006
oh what good is nostalgia you ask, i too wonder. she lets down her ebony curls and sweet scents of reminiscence, of exquisite sadness, of beautiful yearnings are borne by the wind. But mostly jazz, i think of her when i reminisce. She taught me how to. Beautiful Beautiful Jazz. When i feel like picking up where i leave off, knowing i can't, or when i think of yester-years, a song or something comes up in the air again to catch me by surprise and She's there again.
She doesn't live by hyperboles, she's a transcendental experience. climaxes don't exist for her. how can there be? Can heaven bear climaxes when it is the epitomy of divine happiness? She's some light-foot dryad from beyond the trees, her opiate voice sends you streaming number-less into other-worldly realms of beechen green and melodious winds.
i wrote this in an old blog a few years ago:
"when i'm 18.. maybe after my A's i wanna lounge in one of those couches at velvet underground, or any other posh wine bar with my closest friends. and we'd listen to a live jazz band playing whilst we sip on our cocktails and reminisce on old times."
it never materialised.
i was seventeen then when i wrote it,
i'm twenty now.
oh stay the hand, Time! a little room to reminise, a little time to think, God forbid the future holds more regrets for us that your callous hands have stolen away all too soon.
p.s this post is dedicated to you shuz. You'll be back soon, and the sun will shine over all of us again :) and a poem for you, in case you didn't manage to read it the last time round.
so we started out 8 voices strong
but then you came along
and completed the ensemble
the symphony.
and contribute a verse
you did to each and
everyone of us,
and somehow i feel
the tug of strings stronger
in mine.
in yours.
simple trust convened
the faith you invested
in my faith.
i'll never forget the plea
you made
somehow it cemented
our connection then.
so i wish you well
my little abominable snowman
wave an artist's wand
the kind that embraces
magic and
pinkish crazes
and should the tenderfoot take
no interest in the au courant
find comfort in the old
the precipitates of friendship
that lasts a lifetime.
and find a little strip of heaven
the neat splice of earth
in the mash note i gave
and follow its trajectory
from south east to east
feel its singaporean rustle
its nanyang scribble
and ease yourself
with the thought,
the thought
which maybe feels like home.
Joyce Lim unzipped at 7:01 PM with 0 comments
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