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Showing posts from June, 2011

my unconsciousness is a $hit skit writer

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the other morning, i apparently woke with a sob. i thought i was rather waken by minnow for no good reason at all- and to add to confusion, it seemed that i was teary. what on earth?  well, it was a vivid dream.  one of those that you are completely immersed in, without any sense of 'sleep,' where it becomes more real than real. i cant exactly remember what was going on, but i tried to collect and remember as many things as possible, as it left me feeling a bit sorrowful. i was driving somewhere in a car, with my dad.  we were at the intersection near my parents' house and somehow, while making a left turn, we got T-ed by a passing red car. so we all got out of the car and started to pour out individual frustration- for some reason, we were on way home and we were late for something, mom was supposedly waiting for us.  then a bizarre thing: a spot light came up from nowheres, i initially thought it mustve be the police light, as we were blocking a huge intersection of 3

not even a penny for the thoughts

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in the days of 4G networks and smart phones, communication is becoming cheaper by the seconds i feel.  i am still holding onto my old school motolora phone; there are times when i am super tempted to upgrade to the fancy android phones, but somehow i have managed to avoid such splurge YET.  i try to do most of my communication through email- thanks to god, email format still seem to cling onto some old practices as proper addresses and closing/signatures and stuff, unlike the shorten txt gibs. but you see, you need to be on the network (hit he panic button)  and it does seem rather convenient to be able to check one's inbox couple times in an hour ( ! ) - during the peak season, i did lose couple gigs as people have replied with lightening speed (through phones, of course) and i thought over and over about conversion.  but suppose im still 'considering.'  how unfashionable of me! so why such cling to old conventions? well i do love snail mail.  once in awhile, i will ge

temporary ugliness

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on fourth day of this absolute insanity-inducing urticaria situation, i think the angry blistery uprising has gone down a bit (or im just used to seeing my face bubbly at this point) though both my eyelids are puffy and heavy with unwanted fluids. what is my skin actually trying to fight against? i have no clue nor am a smidgen bit amused anymore.  beside constantly sitting on my hands (to prevent from scratching), only other solution seems to be stay 'cold.'  ho more luxurious hot showers for this monkey. until the urticaria has gone off. it's a bizarre phenomenon for me. unlike all other allergic reactions i had in the past (the worst one being the one i had when i was 15 years old, probably ate something silly, which lead to poisoning; i took the subway to downtown to see the family doctor, in high collared shirts and hat, because my body was literally full of angry red welts.  this resulted to gracious slap on the ass with a steroid shot, which sent everything away in

fallacy of magic potion

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o the rare days of sun in england this wee monkey had her shoulders out in the sun with its little hound teeth the sun left itty marks on pale monkey skin which have not seen the sun, working in the depth of indoors at the ivory tower. small odd heat bumps carrying the anger in size of sesami seeds looking like a constellation chart the monkey remembered the advise of experts: put your sunscreen on, before the sun eats you up! pondering at the aisle of magic potions of all colours shapes and of course, prices, she read the lables: sunsmart, oil-free, perfume-free, allergy-tested, anti-pimples, anti-aging, highest-rated, lost in fancy words, she picked one and exited the shop with people cheering after her: 'you will be beautiful! you are being careful!' all she wanted was to not be bitten with itty hound teeth of summer sun rays. the fact that the magic potion costed her a handsome sum, everyone chirped about the 'high quality' of the product.

... i did get on the late train though

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people often ask how i got involved in music.  funny enough, i tell them: no, my parents arent musicians nor i was put to lessons at a tender young age.  i did wanted to go to a specialty arts schools but i wasnt allowed to audition, as only silly or really rich kids went there.  no, i didnt fall in love with piano, but with oboe; however, i wasnt encouraged nor allowed to have one. we did have a piano though so i started on piano.  hmm, organ- well, i did study for about 8 years but that's because i was one day hired to play an organ for sunday services at this massive church at age 14. yep. i was on the payroll. i remember feeling a bit confused in high school as i was not part of their music curriculum.  at that break where the preteens were taken into the band room and were asked to select an instrument, i was in my english-as-second-language class. by the time i have learned english, i have missed the boat totally to join music classes.  our high school music teachers refuse

a commie birthday

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so the earth has gone around once again, and born as a sunday's child, this particular monkey celebrated her birthday on a friday, a bit groggy and still crumpled from the cross-pond journey.  i feel a bit wistful that i left yyz a day before the happy-not-dead-yet-day as i realized that it did matter to my maternal gene pool; you see, my b days were spent out of home most of the time (since i was 19 i think?) and not having too many friends in elementary school, as a reactionary, i never put much emphasis on birthdays. but i should have thought of it from mom's perspective- after losing gabe, i bet she's a bit more attached to the other two kiddies that she conceived, gave birth to and still continues to eat her love, if a bit messily (insert lots of cut-eyes and unpleasant phone exchanges). and yes, that's what it was- she wanted to do something for monkey. she wasnt saying 'you shouldve stayed' to make me sad, but really because she wanted me to stay. oops

no one can top a sexual healing shaman, i tell you

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recently, there was a small gathering with my banff flames in toronto- we got together and played some hot hot hot tango.  if i could dance like i play the tango, i think i would be a hot item. i love making comments like that only because i will never have to prove it! ha. however, i should explain that for some reason i have tried stay as far as i can from logistics (what a 'musician' thing to do, i know) and that should explain why i rarely do things on the out side of the box. my mad flutter was all the way in montreal. so what of the logistics? well, someone else decided to jump and be the all-one-can-be. hooray. let's just call her sexual-healing-shaman lady. im not making this up, this was the description of herself from last year. one does not argue or discuss such identity- well, i wont. and i never will. what if i get vexed with some hilarious sexual curse? fisting? no thanks! anyways, at the ripe age of 31, i suppose i do have an idea of how things roll in this