Sunday
It's raining, the light is yellow or maybe it's my windows (I look up into the watery sky, I see lines of water on glass) ... I just realised the tree right outside my apartment has been losing its leaves. What's left is a pale green with blotches of yellow and brown. It's looking a bit bare and maybe it'll soon be naked as the season turns, and my first year in Australia is soon reached.
It's nice, this time of the day when day transits into night in a short drawn out moment of twilight that I wished would last longer, but then it's the very ephemeral moment of this day that is its appeal I think, and every twilight is subtly different unlike the days that go by.
So draws to an end this Sunday, the end of the week and in another how many hours after sleep and upon waking, the start of a new week. And every week I wonder what I've done and before I ever have an answer, the week renews itself and I go on.
And I suppose that's why I've stopped writing, because my world has narrowed to a point, my own little limbo in which nothing happens. Rather, things happen but feel too trivial to chronicle, or things happen but feel too frustrating ... or things happen and I rather not encapsulate them into words, rather stop thinking and consume TV because that is one way to numb the mind and the soul.
But I lie, because everything matters in their minutiae, everything haunts.
I've survived the round of layoffs at work, I don't know why. Well one ought to take joy or comfort in thinking this is a sign that I'm valuable enough to keep around, but it certainly doesn't feel that way. But you know, I really need to stop fixating about work. But it's difficult. I've been alone and thrown myself at work for so long that it is the world.
So I tried spending a bit more time on Facebook because I still don't get what people do on it. It's a lot more exhibitionist and lacking of substance compared to blogging but what do I know, because Facebook seems to be the way of the future. I thought Facebook was like a forum and when someone posts a status, it generates dialogues, but I suspect Facebook is really just an evolution of us and media, of 'reality' entertainment where people look 'into' the world of others who chose to exhibit their lives. You don't really participate in your 'friends'' lives on Facebook, you put your hand just beneath the water and feel it run past your fingers but you never really take the plunge. Facebook is entertaining the way Big Brother might be entertaining, except you're watching your 'friends' and having a very superficial level of interaction with their world.
Watchmen is out, haven't seen it, not exactly looking forward to it; but it's just one of those things I have to watch to facilitate office water cooler conversations. We don't actually have a water cooler that people gather around, but we do have a cardboard standee of one. I wasn't impressed by the movie trailers, the gratuitous use of slo-mo reminded me more of a music video than a movie even if it's adapted from a comic book. Alan Moore has disavowed it and I'm not surprised.
Went book shopping today, because I finished Banks' Matter. I'm reading a book on advertising already but I'm always itchy to read some fiction. Non-fiction books are only for home reading while fiction is what I read on the commute. And while I was finding the book, I realise books and me are like women and me. Well sort of. I can spend hours in a bookshop going through blurbs and flipping through the pages, and there are a handful of authors that I will read without fail, but most of the time, I just wander till I find the right one. Such was the case today: I set out to find Abercrombie's Last Argument of Kings which is mysteriously absent from Kino, Borders, and Galaxy; and ended up picking up Italo Calvino's If On A Winter's Night A Traveller. I came across mentions of it on a sci-fi forum ages ago, and never found the book or thought about it until today and when I saw it, something niggled at me to pick it up and the first two pages had me, and I have a new book to read.
The light is almost gone, it's kinda blue-grey now, only light illuminating me is this screen, my eyelashes dispersing it, and I can see a plane of reflection off my nose. Time to prepare dinner methinks, finish the beer, and start on the wine.
It's nice, this time of the day when day transits into night in a short drawn out moment of twilight that I wished would last longer, but then it's the very ephemeral moment of this day that is its appeal I think, and every twilight is subtly different unlike the days that go by.
So draws to an end this Sunday, the end of the week and in another how many hours after sleep and upon waking, the start of a new week. And every week I wonder what I've done and before I ever have an answer, the week renews itself and I go on.
And I suppose that's why I've stopped writing, because my world has narrowed to a point, my own little limbo in which nothing happens. Rather, things happen but feel too trivial to chronicle, or things happen but feel too frustrating ... or things happen and I rather not encapsulate them into words, rather stop thinking and consume TV because that is one way to numb the mind and the soul.
But I lie, because everything matters in their minutiae, everything haunts.
I've survived the round of layoffs at work, I don't know why. Well one ought to take joy or comfort in thinking this is a sign that I'm valuable enough to keep around, but it certainly doesn't feel that way. But you know, I really need to stop fixating about work. But it's difficult. I've been alone and thrown myself at work for so long that it is the world.
So I tried spending a bit more time on Facebook because I still don't get what people do on it. It's a lot more exhibitionist and lacking of substance compared to blogging but what do I know, because Facebook seems to be the way of the future. I thought Facebook was like a forum and when someone posts a status, it generates dialogues, but I suspect Facebook is really just an evolution of us and media, of 'reality' entertainment where people look 'into' the world of others who chose to exhibit their lives. You don't really participate in your 'friends'' lives on Facebook, you put your hand just beneath the water and feel it run past your fingers but you never really take the plunge. Facebook is entertaining the way Big Brother might be entertaining, except you're watching your 'friends' and having a very superficial level of interaction with their world.
Watchmen is out, haven't seen it, not exactly looking forward to it; but it's just one of those things I have to watch to facilitate office water cooler conversations. We don't actually have a water cooler that people gather around, but we do have a cardboard standee of one. I wasn't impressed by the movie trailers, the gratuitous use of slo-mo reminded me more of a music video than a movie even if it's adapted from a comic book. Alan Moore has disavowed it and I'm not surprised.
Went book shopping today, because I finished Banks' Matter. I'm reading a book on advertising already but I'm always itchy to read some fiction. Non-fiction books are only for home reading while fiction is what I read on the commute. And while I was finding the book, I realise books and me are like women and me. Well sort of. I can spend hours in a bookshop going through blurbs and flipping through the pages, and there are a handful of authors that I will read without fail, but most of the time, I just wander till I find the right one. Such was the case today: I set out to find Abercrombie's Last Argument of Kings which is mysteriously absent from Kino, Borders, and Galaxy; and ended up picking up Italo Calvino's If On A Winter's Night A Traveller. I came across mentions of it on a sci-fi forum ages ago, and never found the book or thought about it until today and when I saw it, something niggled at me to pick it up and the first two pages had me, and I have a new book to read.
The light is almost gone, it's kinda blue-grey now, only light illuminating me is this screen, my eyelashes dispersing it, and I can see a plane of reflection off my nose. Time to prepare dinner methinks, finish the beer, and start on the wine.