March 15, 2012

earth has not anything to show more fair

my fingers are always clumsy on the keys, in this fumbling dance of false imitation and recreation. i stare at their pallid reticence, my mind shrieking unheeded commands - quicker! more accurate! improvise! it sounds like this! - and spiraling into this cascade of harmonic beauty i will never be able to attain. it is this intense mediocrity that forces me to cower in a corner, beyond the reach of the bright lights and the stage, beyond the trivial praise i can garner from playing a few bland pop songs that have been dampened by the neutered appetite of the mainstream audience. almost as if i pretend to possess a gift in fact i lack.

there will be no towering piano concerto with dazzling cadenzas, or the rollicking genius of jazz. there are only ten fingers and a confused girl, who will - in time -learn to come to terms with the brusque truths of disappointment.

March 7, 2012

January 15, 2011

wishing to be all kinds of spontaneous.

i want to grab you by the hands and say, come with me, let’s go on a vacation now. on a ferry with the wind rushing excitedly through our hair and sitting precariously on a railing.

i want to run through falling leaves of every colour and shape and size while the sun filters through in all its golden glory; to bike down a hill on a tandem bicycle, shrieking all the way with our hair flying.

i want to have all-night conversations where we tumble into a drugged high on life and beauty and whispered secrets.

... smuggle me to places we have never been -- with hidden sunsets; city lights and the taste of the sea on our lips.

x

January 14, 2011

// twenty eleven.

[ r e m e m b r a n c e ]

your secret smile like a crimson popsicle on a summer's day...

your laughter like the faint lullaby of raindrops on teacups.

It's brave to go so close to endings; but it's often the beginnings that are sharp enough to cut.

Counting shooting stars tonight and missing you tonight dearest Sandy. x

January 7, 2011