Another blog, yes?

It occurred to me (when I told Des of the blog) that the my blog address is quite poyoh.
The equivalent of a Mat who would ram his bike before a "kona baring" (academic version, non?).

Considering the blogs I've had: "Scrambled ramblings" (the name
aptly describes the posts), "I shan't delete this blog" (but did) and "Mango-peelings", I will not even try to promise myself that I won't delete this one.
A few weeks/ months/ years down the line, I shall probably review this blog, snort at the sentimental and laugh at the emo/angsty posts, following which, I will -without a trace of remorse- incinerate (give me some artistic license, setting all your works on fire is way more dramatic then clicking the mouse a couple of times) all evidence of my scribblings... off the net you go! tralala
The flair for blog-naming is simply not mine. Just a phrase or random combination of words that "clonks me in the noggin". I thought mirages and the wacky things that whoosh through the cerebral cortex on a regular basis. Technicolor dreams, asking and answering the oddest "What if's_____ ?", inspiration found in the seemingly prosaic scenes on the stage of Life ...
Whoooooooooooh! Can whoops be spelt hahahaha? Hence the fata morgana dans ma tête shall be inadequately but necessarily chronicled, words pushed out of a reluctant word-paste tube. Squish.
I shall love this blog for now and post when possible (:

P.S: It's not just blogs that I can't name... what do we call DanceProduction this year? What if I do really name my kids "Biscuit" and "Mitten"?

Three Words, One Story

Someone once told me that all the "awesomest stories ever" start with:

Once upon a time,

there was a potato crisp but it wanted to be hairpin. It drowned itself in some salsa and the obituary was on a post-it.

The End.

Wine, a definition.

(L-R): David & Isaac

David: What is wine?

Isaac: It is a kind of alcohol that looks like Ribena

Edward Hallifax

The craziest friend you could ever have. I really loved Edward's character though I prolly had the toughest time describing it to people.
Why is it that when you are truly moved by something you cannot find the words to describe it?
All I said was, "Errrmmm... he's Green man... kinda crazy...really crazy when you think about it... Like literally wears a green outfit? Erm, whacky... would do random shit on stage. Pogo stick anyone?".
Sorta like the strange twinge you get in your funny bone. You can't really describe it... it's sort of pleasant but just odd, so if you're not used to it you would find it weird.
There are 4 imaginary people but only he has magical powers. I suspect it is truly because Edward is the only character cuckoo enough to be imaginary and magic. Right now, as I write him, he's just looooooooooooooooony! It's so tough to channel the fairie air about him, the charm and the other-worldliness. He is magic! The whacky bits are easy enough to draw from life but ze magique ees stuck in my head, not translating to paper or laptop monitor.

Edward, Edward, oh Edward... I know you so well but if I have a problem articulating what and who you are, how do I get the world to see what I mean?
How do I get Ming to play you right if you are not written right?
You couldn't be his original imaginary friend because a character such as yours is of great sensitivity. You are fragile. The brilliance and whacky creativeness come at the cost of commonsense. You would not have helped John-the-lonely-child...you could have coloured his world and filled it with your own special brand of glitter, but you would not have helped him deal with the world and face it, the way Alex could.
Raaaaaaaaaaaaawr!

In the mean time, let me try figuring out an inspired valedictorian speech.

Dragonflies on the ceiling

You stared, enraptured.
I watched you watch them.
A child's sight within adult eyes.
Magic in the mundane.
Dragonflies on the ceiling,
I think of you.

Procrastination

Wakes up at close to 12 pm, thinks "Ah... might as well get up at noon, nice round number."
Gets up at 1.15, "FUCK! Oh well... lets get lunch"
Chats with random floor mate, gives opinion on outfit.
Buys lunch.
Slowly eats lunch while watching reruns of Whose Line on Youtube.
Sets up blog.
Makes Milo.
Drinks Milo.
Talks to dad on the phone.
Facebooks.
Blogs.
Thinks of scenes to write for latest script.
Messages roommate for food.
Makes tuna sandwich.
Facebooks and eats tuna sandwich.
Calls friend in Malaysia.
Google and Facebook stalk random people together.
Makes another tuna sandwich.
Eats another tuna sandwich.
Contemplates making coffee
Makes coffee
Should I write a second blog post today?
Writes it.
Argh! Past 6. Script due before midnight.
Bye GUYS! -drinks coffee-

Please Stand Behind The Yellow Line

Please stand behind the yellow line.
Corridor items in the allocated yellow box.
Have you seen the Yellow Sign?
Yellow noise allowed.
Yellow yellow dirty fellow.
Will I die of yellow fever?
Lets read the Yellow Pages.
Butter is a shade of yellow.
Follow the yellow brick road...