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i still hate the aircon

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

i remembered how a friend warned of how depressing the winter in england can be.
even more so when you do not find yourself in a crowd of familiar faces.

i told her (back then and almost instantly) that it will be alright.
i am very much afraid of the cold and i usually react negatively.
(protester of office aircon. confession to the culprit who turns the aircon down
when everyone went for lunch breaks. shamelessly layered with sweaters and
even caved in ikea blankets in front of the computer. BUT never any less productive)

i have been pierced with frosty winds,
have my bones sliced by dense and unimaginable degree celsius.
i have walked down english streets debating my intentions of ever
putting me into this abusive condition unlivable by any living thing.

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as i watch the naked trees once brimming with green spades,
now with their glory yellowed and shredded to the ground.
and on better days those leaves, they would dance
in the wind like a bunch of chirpy schoolgirls around my legs.
for my whole life, it has always been
"everyone is getting ready for christmas."
for the first time in my life, it is
"everyone is getting ready for winter."
those trees, naked but warmer.

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last saturday was a feast with music, people and substances.
the night grew into a darkness as people started to talk lesser,
move in more confidence, react with truer reflexes, dance with less restrictions.
the dusk wore off to dawn. my feet was far from my brains.
someone summoned and the half the house marched into the backyard,
where bits of white seeds fell from the sky that was shy with sunshine.
i felt a confusion between these foreign particles and the insane temperature.
i saw people scrapping snow off a canvas to sculpt a ball,
i heard people shouting in british accent i wasnt sober enough to understand,
i felt the snow bits darting onto my face. frozen, cold (but not hearted).
it didnt take as long for me to reach into my pocket for my (phone)camera
than to process the information into reality of falling snow,
in my face. on my shoes. on my shoulders. from the sky.
into the vision of mine to her, the only other person as virgin as i.
on the head of that guy shouting in british accent.
santa claus is not real. this is real.
it was magic.

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the cold doesnt bite so hard anymore.
but i still hate the aircon. (it is just not the same)

posted by peenutkew  # 14:35  1 comments

survivors

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

scooter, bicycle, a picnic with some cheap (yet good) wines.
roots, mine. leaves, yes i seem to be leaving a bit of me in places.
(more so of late, in places i have never known before.)
train, and falling in love with it all over again.
sheep, to lose counting. a fat cow, to milk for strength.
hills, those downs and ups. 4 wheels, and just keep trucking.
home, trying to find a close resemblance of it wherever i plant my feet.
fences, fending and even more so every step further from home.
birds, oh sweet aromatic freedom. light (house), and a direction.
the great ocean, with one great sail i shall own.
stars, and the representations of everything that we can only look,
in adore, with curiosity, and a distance that seem within reach,
but impossible to touch. perfection exists but doesnt live.

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good is good enough for me. bingo.

posted by peenutkew  # 23:47  0 comments