Oh dear, yesterday I saw a guy who was reading and driving (slowly) at the same time... o_o multi-tasking at its worst.

Now, on with the comments :) I don't know why the font on some of these comments are appearing differenty *shrugs shoulders* as long as it's there and it can be read:

claudinebella

caragone

lorena27

lifeissweet09

so i herd u liek mudkips LIKES

• The Internet! :3 self explanatory (lame)
• Expanding on my analytical and creative writing, it was/is really fun. The exposure of our works on the Internet for other people (our class) to critique made me appreciate writing even more; it didn't seem like a chore but a hobby. My confidence in writing has increased dramatically throughout this course and I've truly enjoyed reading the works of the people in my class.
• The range of texts we went through in class; annotating in our text books was blasphemous at first, though. Too bad I hardly wrote anything original apart from obscure pop/movie/television/music/historical/geographical references. Or the dead cat I saw when I was four or five (unfortunately I am being serious). All in all, I now have some history with my text book :D
• Keeping a common place book made me appreciate life even more, especially when walking to the train station at 6.30am on Wednesdays. I certainly don't live in the flashiest or environmentally beautiful town, but I've come to appreciate and take notice of the most little of things (...I did this before I even had a common place book, although writing what I saw in a book is more worthwhile and cheers me up whenever times are bad). 'Twas great :D
• People :) Everyone's awesome d^_^b

• The Internet >:((( 1. Using it for uni has made me even more addicted to the Internet than before OTL; 2. Because of some previous malfunctions, I have lost some marks lol. Oh well, that'll just have to make me work harder to make up for what I've lost ^_^
• Some bad days got to me D< it can't be helped and it can't be fixed, so focus on what's on ahead rather than what's right next to you?

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages." - William Shakespeare.

So, we're getting into the nature of drama component of literature :) It's really interesting how playwrights can create a world separate from ours in which we can view this new world, sometimes getting into the shoes of the characters presented (as part of the audience).

This week we had a guest lecturer, Prof Sam Bernstein, from North Eastern University, Boston, USA. His lecture on his own musical adaptation of Eugene O'Neill's play, "The Hairy Ape," as well as the original play itself helped me to understand the purposes of the plays. A few other things which Bernstein said about his adaptation of "The Hairy Ape":

"To explain the manner of language, concepts, themes, characters in the form of a play.
...Witness the psychological digression.
To maintain and process the notions of the play/musical throughout the use of action and music."

While watching or listening to something, most of the time we just do so without thinking of the relevance of the concepts and themes to reality. Although, this can't be said for you if it's already a habit to analyse anything that moves (HSC English has especially taught this well >_>). Language, actions, setting, costume and props always have a double agenda in the nature of drama and tend to symbolise or emit subtle hints to the audience of something: for instance, a child dropping a torn teddy bear into the snow could signify the loss of innocence. Another example, one in which historical and biblical allusions and auditory symbolism are used to incorporate mood and reinforce the themes of betrayal and death would be episode 25 of Death Note (I won't explain or expand on anything about this...).

Watching and listening to something also leads us to categorise that something based on generalisations we receive from society: a character who's dialogue is highly sophisticated can make us assume that the character comes from a high class social background, the atmosphere around them also placing power dynamics amongst relationships between other characters and ourselves to that character. Are we above, lower or on the same level as the character presented? Will the character be compassionate or snobbish to others who aren't from the same social class?

For that matter, what are our expectations of literature or media in general? What creates a "good" play/musical? Perhaps it's the credibility of the plot and characters and our ability to respond to their nature: negative or positive. Growth and development are the most important aspects to plot and character, but what if growth and development goes through a long span of time, such as Pip Pirrip from Charles Dickens' "Great Expectations"? How is it that we maintain interest as the character grows? Like I said in my previous entry, it all comes down to our own personal experience, similarities and differences to the character. Our personality traits or what we desire may be present in the character and the realism or fantasy of their situations and how they handle them.

"You learn from a conglomeration of the incredible past - whatever experience gotten in any way whatsoever." - Bob Dylan.

(From hereon you'll be reading the obvious... however relevant it may be, it's too clichéd, repetitious and un-witty, hurhur... gah, I need work on structure xD)

I know it's immature to think so, but I've always found it ironic when people say they are fighting for freedom, their rights as a human being, equality, peace, all that jazz. Debate on issues such as war, same sex relationships/marriage, ethnicity, the environment, etc, will never be solved although those fighting for these rights try to maintain an equilibrium or understanding between the polarities. In the forms of written work (fictional or non-fictional), music, art, movements and rallies people will always have their voices heard to an audience, no matter how big or small it is, and succumb to praise and criticism.

Issues, such as the ones mentioned above are prevalent themes within the works of writers: examples include Adrienne Rich and Carol Bly. Oftentimes these issues are intertwined with their own personal experience to create the themes and morals of the story they wish to share with others. But what is it in their writing that we find so compelling? Could it be the chilling honesty of the presented theme threaded with various forms of imagery? Can we actually hear the voice of the poet or view the world they are trying to create or share with us? How do they provoke thought or reactions from us? Reactions have to start from something; maybe it's our own experiences, honesty, relevance and interest to the theme which draw our attention.

To be someone who stands out in the general public, the most important thing your voice (or a device which creates a voice for you such as your own writing). You have to stand up for your cause (what you believe is right, bringing equality) and not to back down when times are tough. During the feminist movement and Vietnam war countless numbers of people were arrested; responses from critics lead to negative assumptions of the mentioned as supposedly homosexual or communist, whether they are or not. Criticism from society, family and friends included are the main factors for people being deterred from standing up for what they believe in: ostracism being the fear.

Once again, I am going to be really immature and selfish here: that's what really gets me going. To be able to say what I want to say, even if it is controversial, without jumping from the soap box or being forced to publically apologise for my words. I want to be as honest as the writers and musicians I read and listen to, become "contemporary and relevant" rather than living like a Disney princess with little significance and power to help those less fortunate in rights and value. Sacrifices are inevitable, but I want to be able to gain more - for the sake of others.

Comment tosallylim on her entry which you can find here: http://sallylim.livejournal.com/4540.html?view=1468#t1468. Feeling stressed out at the moment? I quote from one of her poems: "Let go, breath out/ You'll be fine."

"...And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable, clinical, intellectual, cynical..." Supertramp, The Logical Song

OTL I need some catching up to do. Faaaaaaaast. Straight to the entry. Maybe I should so some planning about what to write during class time so I'm not so lost ^^|| And gah, drama groups *nervous laughter... stage fright already?*

Creative writing is going to be a bit of a challenge today, since I can only think of Emily Dickinson's "Much Madness is divinest Sense". Yeahhh. So, maybe it would be a bit easier to tear apart an old nursery rhyme for the fun of it? (boo~) *after writing it* VERY CHALLENGING INDEED TT__TT and it looks so simple when reading it. Rhyming is difficult =3= interpret the poem as you wish. Nonsense makes the most sense :)

The Unabridged Version of Humpty Dumpty

When Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
He considered the world as a whole.
Contemplating what it was like
To work his mind such as a bike
Letting his own thought conquer and roll.

Thoughts of his, however, came to loll,
Thus Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
Yolk of his soul's essence
Spilled upon their defence
Causing many to gall.

Shattered like a porcelain doll
Shell shards taking its toll.
All the kings horses
Tried to claim his forces
By covering his contents all.

Villainous cur, wretched mole
Still moving away his jowls.
Scaring people of ten
And all the king's men,
"I will survive, Ole!"

Residing in solitary zen
Inside his mind's den;
He heard children call
Him freed from the gallows pole. 
Thus they couldn't put Humpty together again.

Comment tolizkaras on her entry which you can find here: http://lizkaras.livejournal.com/5064.html?view=8392#t8392. Poems made of awesome sauce? I totally think so~

"When I was a boy, my father and mother were murdered before my very eyes. I have dedicated my life to stopping that criminal, regardless of the forms or faces he wears. Really, the form is of no consequence" - Alex Ross, Jim Krueger, Doug Braithwaite, Justice (DC Comics)

Crud, I completely forgot to make a lit entry for week 7 until now... looking back at the unit outline. Yeahhh. And I think I am catching a cold, boo. Double boo for being rejected by the QVB elevator for the first time.

Well, time to get cracking on this! Gah, I don't know what to write about, lol. I'll get something, woo!

Okay, the following is my actual creative entry thing for this "week." It's not too creative, though. Whatever. 

Rainbow Vomit Excerpts Of Herself Makes As Much Sense As The Mad Hatter

1. She does not know what to write. To ease the uneasiness, she writes in third person narrative mode. To tell you the truth, she looked up 'narrative modes' in Wikipedia just to make sure that she got the narrative mode right. She's right.

2. Because life is a bit iffy for her at the moment, she wants to curse aloud and type the series of curses verbatim here, there, everywhere. She knows that she'll get chewed for saying and writing it, perhaps she would have to make a public apology for her actions just like those newborn Disney stars. They belong to Disney, copyright included, they can't do anything risque - they're role models, right? Just like everything in this world liable to the eyes and ears of children, the future is at stake!

3. She overreacts for a little while. She does not type out her whole rant as it is considered unnecessary. Errors of all sorts pulling her Hermione Granger-like hair, ideas being cut as they have already been said, convoluted, already been said, redundant and clichéd.

4. She begins to get peeved for starting (what's that: one, two, three) three paragraphs so far with 'she.' She is also getting sick of writing about her mind. Like, you know? She's basically living with that thing, like, 100% of the time. A little less time on the self and a little more time on everybody else would be preferable. But what to write about when talking about other people? They are not her, she certainly can't pass judgment. Simple observation must be observed. To keep things real.

5. "Unsaid things have to be said," she writes. "Lots of unsaid things have to be said, yet CCTV and the great firewall of China, et cetera, are all watching and filtering people everywhere so people like you remain safe from unsaid and tainted thought crime." According to popular belief among lots of people she knows and wish she knew, censorship is bullshhhhhhhhhhhhhhirt. Bullshirt. Bullshirt has nothing to do with bullshi--

6. Cut from the hole in her mind, she returns back to reality. Round eyes have been staring at her for a while. "Are you okay?" he asks. Is she ever okay? she counters. He walks away from her. She laughs out loud at her stupidity. After a few moments, she slumps further to the ground. The price of her 'extreme' identity leaves her in debt, shutting her off with herself. That's what she wanted, right?

7. In a soft, mellow room in her mind, she stabs the padded walls with regret; wanting to escape from her own world, she yearns deeply for reality. Her mind is transcendent, yes, only when there are people to criticise and hide away from. No problems now, none at all. What does that leave her with? Isn't that what she wanted?


© 2009 scherae (...the above. The title is too long to retype or copy and paste)

Comment to lilib3t on her entry which you can find here: http://lilib3t.livejournal.com/4126.html. One of the most beautiful poems I have ever read... honestly, it's a must read!

" 'Someday - we're gonna get the jack together and we're gonna have a little house and a couple of acres an' a cow and some pigs and -'
'An' live off tthe fatta the lan'... " - John Steibeck, Of Mice and Men.

(I'm mostly talking to myself here, dw hurhur)<rant> OTL fml atm D: Boo, one month and this week has already been full of Internet troubles. -1 point for eLearning (since it's all done on the Internet :< )Gah, I'm glad that I'm usually patient, but I think I'm going to get a breakdown one day soon ): So, I sort of fixed the Internet by myself since I REALLY needed (still need) to use it, and I'm glad I did; maybe the ISP has slowed down because I've already gone over my limit? I don't see how, though. At least the holidays are coming up, hopefully I can change my limit :) It's a good thing I sent my LJ link to Blackboard on Friday morning, otherwise I would have been even more screwed... I should have tried to spend more time on the discussion thing and answered all of the questions/added more to the discussion, but I didn't know my net would be down until I fixed it. Yeah. BLAH >:((( </rant... is not over yet>

To do list:
1. Fix Internet
2. Get self-help, lol.
3. Comment back to some people on LJ once both assignments etc are finished :)

Here's a short story based on 'work and the quality of life.' It is exaggerated and in retrospect I think this story is a little weak. I will edit it sometime in the future or at least try to make it make sense. Another mention: I was inspired by the 'Choose Your Own Adventure' series style of writing. You know the series are a [self-insert] and you get to choose which direction to go in... some with dreadful consequences while others relieved you. Something like that.

The Vending Machine

You insert a coin into the vending machine. Your eyes glance at the options. Shall we go through them? I think we should. I don't give you a chance to respond. You agree, nodding your head, not knowing what's going to come next.

The first option is - cue drum roll - EDUCATION: with an education you can enhance your life and your very own power dynamic. The better your education, the more power and respect you will have socially and economically. You know you can't go wrong with it, so long as you don't fail. Even if you do, work towards something else. Educate yourself, find someone to educate you in something you think you're good at. You can't go far in this society, this way of life that you cannot escape without an education. You'll be doomed if you don't have one. Or, to put things nicely, you'll be socially condemned or disregarded if you don't recieve a good education. You'll be helping out society if you do get an education. You will help us to be better, to be more powerful and well respected! Come on now, think for the benefit of society! -

"Are you bemused? Do you agree? Do you disagree? Well, I certainly agree with gaining a proper education. When I was your age, my parents could not afford to pay for my education, and look at me now: I am in the lower end of the social order and I just want you to be in a better position than me. I want your future to be something to be proud of."

Now let's look at the second option; this one has a few lines directing from education. You look at the button below the education option. You see that this second button is filled with lines in all directions, one overlapping the other. The button looks as if it is suffocating from the heaviness of the lines, each a stroke and mark of the person who has contributed to this option: WORK. In this option, this vital, continuous, omnipotent...

"Are you going through a thesaurus?" you ask. "...Don't worry, I think I get the general gist of work. You do it. He/she does it. Everyone does. Could we just please move on to the next option?" You certainly don't understand the importance of work. Only once you're on your own, struggling and sniffing your way around for a scrap of steel and/or paper do you then understand why you need to work for something. To be something.

Your eyes scan down the vending machine. Your look sickens me. Why do you need to look at the other options when you have two options, two SECURE options to live towards? "Why are the other options missing?" you ask. I reply: Open your eyes. There may be a few missing, but there is still one more option left.

LAZINESS. This option leaves you with no options. Those who belong to this option are an insult to my existence and don't deserve the assistance they get from people. They are basically parasites. Pay no heed to them. "But why?" you ask. "They're people, too. They deserve the chance to live, whether we like it or not."

I sneer at your accepting nature. Go on, then. Be consumed by laziness. It will get you nowhere in life. People like you don't survive in the real world. You have to be critical and be educated, work for money. Money is the way to go...

I carry on. Your listless attention span delves into possibilities, pulling strands of ideas to and from each other. You have to choose which option you want to make me proud of you. To be somebody.

You think over the options, stumbling over thoughts you don't even understand. Your mind wanders around aimlessly, looking for a way out. Annoyed with you, I tell you to hurry up. Your fingers move left to right, over here and there; you crumple, then conclude.

A gleam of light, only one with sharp eyes can see, twinkles. A dollar is regurgitated. "I quit, I don't want to choose any of these options," you say. As you walk away, wherever you walk towards the vending machine follows you to ensure your destiny.

Comment to Emmaemmahasking on her entry, which you can find here: http://emmahasking.livejournal.com/2789.html?view=2021#t2021. Read and you shall see the TRUFAX light.

"For no feeling of like or dislike is quite so fundamental as a physical feeling. Race hatred, religious hatred, differences of education, of temperament, of intellect, even differences of moral code, can be got over; but physical repulsion cannot." - George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier.

In regards to uni work and that: I think I will use my LJ to boost my creative writing/critiquing (cbb spell checking atm) and use the discussions on that other thing... Blackboard or whatever for formal writing/analysing/critiquing/discussing. Something like that.

I need luck with completing assignments (Behavioural Science especially OTL). I can't wait 'til there are no more assignments. My cynical side is laughing at the thought TT__TT

Aw, the productive mood looks so cute! I thought the starfish was camping out with an apple nut it's a really cute computer :3

The following is based on the poem Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka.

(This applies to any of my entries, in particular the ones for Literature) Please correct any grammatical, tense and/or punctuation errors, etc. I appreciate the comments and feedback!

-Telephone Interrogation-

This is wonderful, it seems like everything is going to work out after all. Her stern tone changes; the conversation sharpens. Beads of perspiration form on his forehead. What should I – how would she handle it? This is my last chance. I shouldn’t tell her, I don’t have to. But I have to be honest, it’s the right thing to do.

He tells her his darkest shame: the words slip out, darts piercing his confidence. Despite the silence that soon follows, his mind scans for the nearest exit to escape the chaffing telephone booth. She won’t accept me now, she won’t accept me now, she’ll never accept me now. He tries to even his breathing.

She speaks again condescendingly, authoritatively. Her quick monosyllabic jabs begin to chew and spit him out, not giving him the chance to concert himself after each blow. Did she just – she didn’t. But she did. What… it’s not like this sort of thing hasn’t happened before… but it’s just – she’s not… This isn’t real. This is real. He observes his surroundings, feels the receiver, his feet sinking further into his polished black shoes. He awkwardly taps his fingers and places his head against the window pane while waiting for her next judgment.

My god, every part of this is real. Why do I have to suffer through this, why did God give me skin for those people to criticise and taunt? Why is it all a matter of physical appearance? …Just how do I get myself out of this?

She passes the next judgment. Okay, just answer her questions politely and she’ll be bound to give you residence. Come on, you’re an intelligent man, it’ll be cakewalk to get through this little ordeal!

And the next. Keep it cool. Don’t worry. Answer the question in the form of a one-word answer. This method will allow me to gain residence without making her think less of me.

More questions follow. Oh, can’t this woman think of anything else? Does she even know the meaning of the word ‘redundant’? I am physically dark, I am different. Does she think I’m going to stink up the place, dirty it, give hell to the neighbours, the neighbourhood, everyone? What’s wrong with being dark?

‘…Dark, light, dark, light, dark, dark, dark, dark, dark or light, dark?’ she interrogates. His reason begins to get sucked into the maelstrom that had been growing in the back of his mind, and then regurgitated in the form of biting sarcasm. Ask another question and I will give you the most logical explanation. It’s the most I can do for someone like you.

He answers back giving evidence of the truth of who and what he is, thanks to his passport. She responds back curtly. This is the end of me, you, us, and this conversation. What have I done? Can’t she just help me? Why does she have to let something like this get in the way?

He draws his last card, cynicism spluttering in confusion with its now conjoined twin: Reason. Please, madam; Get going! Just take me; I don’t need the likes of you; Persistence will give me the edge to assert myself – she will soon understand; Dwell in your ignorance if you will, foolish lady... will nothing in this world, this day and age change it?

The conversation bemuses her. She knows that it’s not going anywhere further, with him responding in the most insolent of all manners. He knows this. His desperation builds up as he pleads for not only himself, but for his people, all people who are discriminated by those with blind prejudice:

‘Madam,’ I pleaded, ‘wouldn’t you rather
See for yourself?’

© 2009 scherae (Telephone Interrogation [short story])
Telephone Conversation belongs to Wole Soyinka (this includes the last two lines of the short story ^ )

ilovefood19

 on her entry, which you can find here: http://ilovefood19.livejournal.com/1850.html. It made me think, and you can certainly have a dose of that, too!

“Gonna keep on tryin’ till I reach my highest ground” – Stevie Wonder, Higher Ground

:< Boo, I have been really fatigued in the last few days. I’m starting to get those black rings around my eyes, and I don’t know why I have been so tired (not enough sleep, lol, just contradicted yourself, Raelene). I’ve always had not enough sleep, but my fatigue has not been this bad since… a really long time ago. Succinct sentences sound strong. Damn, I thought I could make a tongue twister, but I didn’t L

*Sigh* The build up of tension over time – throwing something out of your life only to find that you want to keep that something but then it’s too late since that something is already long gone. Annoying when that happens.

I’ve made a short poem (actually done in class, although I slightly corrected/altered this version) because I liked it, especially with the peeve of something that has been built up over a period of time but then it’s all blown out in a matter of seconds which, in turn, affects everything else, etc. Crackerjack, I just repeated myself (see above paragraph). (I can’t sleep, I want sleep yet I hate sleep LEEEl).

One more thing before moving onto the poem: aside from the rational annotations, I sincerely hope the words trufax, lol, lolwut, Zeppelin rules! (it’s an eternal truth), that is so like me!, OMG, imo this person needs to get a life, I <3 Joy Harjo, I like this one, (the amount of song/film/television/lolwut/pop culture/cultural etc references),  (yes, I did draw the Batman symbol) will be meaningful to me in the near present past future (that just reminded me of the Homer Versus the Eighteenth Amendment episode of The Simpsons).

Boy With A Clubfoot

Disgusting, detested,
Voice constantly muffling,
The boy looks at me
Infinitely and idiotically smiling.

At birth to now,
Past to present,
The boy remains
Unchanged.

He looks at me with a foolish grin;
I look at him with chagrin.
What does he expect of me?
Why does his gaze make my ego thin?

The town speaks ill of I.
“The boy’s a nuisance,” I sigh.
This will keep them quiet, no rumours to bind.
Child of mine, why won’t you die?

You bring nothing but shame:
Shame for your uselessness,
Shame for your crippled state.
Anger consumes my mind.

Thrusting a crutch for which to lean,
The exit to a life he must weave.
“Go,” he looks at me, not green,
A smile so keen

Playing at his lips.
He grabs the crutch: for once I
Am scared for my safety
However he leaves me unharmed.

The idiot boy turns unquestioning,
His voice leaves silence ringing.
Throwing aside my pride, I reach
For him unwillingly:

Too late,
Gone, never to return.
He walks like the cripple he is,
However tall.

© 2009 scherae (poem ‘Untitled: Boy With A Clubfoot’ ooh, it sounds like a play!)
Artwork ‘Boy With A Clubfoot’ belongs to Jusepe de Ribera (1642)
The ‘Batman symbol’ belongs to (not 100% sure who it actually belongs to? Most likely DC comics…?) Dennis O’Neil (1964)

Comment to Emmanuel s00092243 on his entry, which you can find here: http://s00092243.livejournal.com/947.html?view=435#t435. Thought provoking, I tell you. Simple, yet ingenious.

(can't turn off the bold, I don't know why. Gah, my brain is so sdkjeklerioioef at the moment)

2009-03-15 11:45 am (UTC)

“Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.” Lewis Caroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass.

Boo, I've been really tired lately even though I still get a standard of five hours of sleep (*sniff* it's still too much, I can't stand sleeping :< ). Ahaha, I've got seriously unserious problems (so lame).

And since I've got seriously unserious problems, I've made a poem about/of my heritage! I’m guessing it’s a poem (…really, it’s just a series of quotations and conversations which I’ve had with various people). Haha, it’s fun recollecting what people think of you culture-wise ;)

It’s all muddled up and in no particular order. Ye gods, I’m starting to analyse my own poem, I better post this up immediately!

Soooooo yeeeeahhh. By the way, selective hearing and photographic memory for the win, lol.

When you're strange... (love The Doors)


I’m such a fruitcake :D LOL if you don't already know: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=hot

 

© 2009 scherae
 

Brown eyes, Green eyes,
Wog and a half,
But she’s part slant-eyed…
Where do you come from?

Why, Australia, (says I)--
No, where do you come from?
I was born here… so Australia?
Psh, it must be because she’s mixed bred,

She can’t even tell me where she’s from.
So, where are your parents from?
My dad was born in Malta but he grew up here;
My mum was born in the Philippines but moved here.

So you’re a mutt? [laughs]
I guess so… [nervously laughs]
Are you more Asian or European?
I’m Australian: I’m more Australian.

But what about your culture?
Australian--
No, your CULTURE, what about your CULTURE?
What are you more of, would you say?

(I lie) A bit of this, a bit of that.
What are you more of, though?
Both, neither, Australian, all of the above.
You’re Australian above all else

Because you were born here.
My mother is a Filipino, she lived and died there.
But isn’t she part Spanish and Chinese as well?
She’s still a Filipino.

My father ran away from Latvia
When he was fourteen since he did
Not want to fight in the war. He travelled
In the navy to Norway, country A to B,

Then to the Philippines.
Your father’s family immigrated
To Australia when he was two.
I forgot how to speak Maltese

When I started school.
Hey Raelina, when you going to get
A boyfriend? Make sure he’s Italian,
Not this Maltese.

Good girl, you’re starting to be azn.
*I say something in Tagalog,
The Filipinos laugh at me*
(An attempt to socialise with Filipinos

My age: 6 or so): Go away, you’re too white.
Don’t touch my things. This room is full.
You kind of remind me of your mum.
I can see the resemblance you have with your dad.

You’re Australian, but what did you say you were?
What did you say you are?
You look different.
Why don’t you speak…

Will you be going to…
When are you going to…
I wish I was Eurasian. Why?
Because they’re hot.

I’m such a fruitcake :D

Wk 2 comment tobelrose , her entry which you can find here: http://belrose.livejournal.com/2222.html?view=3502#t3502

Le Comment:

2009-03-08 08:09 pm (UTC)  (it's really 2009-03-09 07:13 pm, but whatever) 

Hurhur, reading Just the Two of Us, a poem by Tomioka Taeko made me think and relate the poem (...kind of) to a variety of songs:
- Jack and Diane, John Cougar Mellencamp
- Just the Two of Us, George Benson
- Lemon Song, Led Zeppelin
- Tea For One, Led Zeppelin
- We've Only Just Begun, The Carpenters
- Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd
- What a Fool Believes, Doobie Brothers

These songs influenced the sequel I wrote for Just the Two of Us (Taeko), and I'm not too happy with the ending I wrote for it (it seems too rushed, I couldn't really think things through). You might find a lot of grammatical errors and some trouble with the tense, as well as being turned off with my abuse of commas, repetition of 'I' (well, it is first person narrative), and yeah, lemons in general. OTL sorry~ ^^||

© 2009 scherae

“…and the one left, sipping tea,
then for the first time, will refuse fiction.

Even your freedom
was like a fool’s story.”- Tomioka Taeko, Just the Two of Us

Whenever you looked at me your eyes bore into mine, going to straight into the soul thinking over and repeating those words. At the hour when you passed on you didn’t say anything at all, only looking at me wistfully and endlessly, longing for the change that you wanted me to have. (I just can’t bring myself to terms with it). We knew it was going to happen sooner or later, except (I just can’t bring myself to terms with it).

A day after you’ve passed on I’m still making tea for two, waiting readily for toast that you will provide in a few minutes time. As I wait, my mind like the tea stirs. I add not sugar or milk for the two of us, just the way we like it; the thought brings me to wonder how people out there like their tea sweet, too sweet. I take a sip and you bring the toast for us to eat… except that instead of toast you just hand me an empty plate. I remember when we received this plate as part of our kitchen set from your parents. It’s an heirloom to your family, but because it has been passed on for generations the plate itself has become weathered and the lemon print is now starting to fade. I look up from my little reverie and find that you are not there anymore, no longer here.

Maybe you’re outside? I get up and look for you. I stop by the garden, looking at your scratch on the earth, one where you remain seeping into the roots of life. We agreed that when we both pass on we would be buried facing the lemon tree where we first met… so, here you are now. We used to be so daring back then, and then we settled into an unbreakable routine (we still loved every moment of it). Then you passed on…

It’s too difficult to change right now (I’m a fool), it’s just not right (you’re a fool). I don’t know what to do (it’s there), I don’t know how to live (when life gives you lemons…). What should I do – (go for it)?

I hike over to the lemon tree, and once over there, I turn to look back at the grave in the distance. Glancing up I reach out, withdraw, then tossing my fear aside I grasp a lemon. It’s nothing much, but it’s the start to something. I know it. I don’t want to refuse fiction, refusing you in turn.

So let this be the rosebud to our freedom, however foolish it may be.