Saturday, 22 June 2019

Travel and Dancing

What one expects and gets from travel and dance—a liberation from earthly woes, the possibility of an aesthetic relation to organized toil—corresponds to the sort of elevation above the ephemeral and the contingent that might occur within people’s existence in the relation to the eternal and the absolute. . . . Through their travels (and for the time being it doesn’t matter where they are headed) the shackles are burst, and they imagine that infinity itself is spreading out before them. In trains they are already on the other side, and the world in which they land is a new world for them. The dancer also grasps eternity in the rhythm: the contrast between the time in which he floats about and the time that demolishes him is his authentic rapture within the inauthentic domain. Dance itself can readily be reduced to a mere step, since after all it is only the act of dancing that is essential.

Siegfried Kracauer, 16th November, 1924, Frankfurter Zeitung
As quoted in the New Yorker article, Only Disconnect 


Gion Haiku

Embed from Getty Images


Geta beat like drums
Sunset, then nightfall and rain
Quick, light the lantern!

Sunday, 24 February 2019

Mood

unsplash-logoCris Saur

Saturday, 12 May 2018

Ritual

Open your eyes.

As a breath enters your nostrils, fills your body and leaves your lungs, give thanks to the Creator for your soul, able yet to inhale and exhale.

Give thanks for yet another day laid at your feet; this gift of possibility and potential, another chance to strive a little further.

Open the curtains and windows. Take in whatever light and air there is.

Remind yourself how small you are in this world, but remind yourself too that small things can make a big difference.

Inhale. Exhale. Stretch.

Put on some music. Tune your heartbeat to the rhythm of the awakening world. There is music everywhere, if we choose to listen.

Listen. To your heart and your head. Listen without judgment or regret, without the desire to control or direct.

Leave the distractions of commentary and imagery alone for now. This is time to be still and silent before the deluge of information and stimulation and noise attack you later (as it surely will).

Move. Perform a sun salutation, or ten. A push-up, or twenty. Run the block, or a few miles. Your body has rested; it needs warming up.

As you move, take note you that your heart and soul is housed in a body: your body. It is fallible, limited. But it is faithful and beautiful. It is yours alone. Do not take it for granted as you wander through this realm. Eat, drink, nourish it.

Read, at least a line or two. From the morning funnies. Or the Holy Scriptures.

Speak: to God, to yourself, to the universe. Ask: for guidance, for protection, for courage, for strength.

And now, you are ready. To meet the rest of your day, and the rest of your life.

Friday, 11 May 2018

Saudade Season

You're as tall as the tree
Sophisticated, you see
The tinsel in truth is tack
The gifts prove their own lack
Of insight into your standing now.

Yesterday's bells ring
Today's melancholy sting
Come then crowd of unwelcome ties
Another dinner to tell more lies?
Asides and clever lines for your brow.

Under the bough, no more surprises
Another lost year chastises
Too much wine, you yawn
Where could the magic have gone?
Resigned that it's lost, you bow

Goodnight youth, goodnight now.

(October 2014)

Affogato

To pour the whole shot
In one shot
Without spilling a drop
Was always a skill of yours

At first the globe floats in defiance
Refusing to succumb
But already revealing canyons
Flooded with rivers of black-brown

Soon the stirring
Melts as it mixes
The ice and heat
Embracing each other

Between forgetting
And bittersweet fantasy
I taste long gone
Weekends

Now all is left
Is a line of beige
On clear glass
And an aftertaste

Of smoke and caramel

(September 2012)

Crumpled

Unravel me
Untie the knots
Only you know
How to untie
Iron out the creases
On the crumpled sheets
Of my bundled mind
Salve my bruise
Rub off my scar
Kiss away the sting
On my broken body
My empty hands
Fill them
My blistered feet
Heal them
Speak to me
And in speaking
Give me hope to reply
Unfurl my sails
Let me dare
To dream
To fly

With you

(August 2012)

Sunday, 3 April 2016

Why Do We Work So Hard? by Ryan Avent

A friend once commented to me: Milestones fade into years.

Here's an article that really got me thinking, from the Economist. It speaks of work, life, and the lines between the two.

Friday, 12 February 2016

Mang Guo

I wrote in my previous post that a script I wrote was being made into a short film. It is finally out. I hope you enjoy it. Constructive feedback is most welcome.

Saturday, 31 October 2015

Mango(steens)

Five years ago, I was part of a devised play called Lost & Found at The Actor's Studio (when it was still at Lot 10), directed by Joe Hasham and Gavin Yap.

It was where I met Justin Wong, who not long after the play ended said he wanted to make a piece I wrote for the play into a short movie.

He's finally made it, and I had a chance to be part of the rehearsal and shoot. It was certainly a little surreal.

Unfortunately, the title fruit was out of season when we started shooting, so we substituted it with mangoes instead. #closeenough

It seems my creative writing with fruits in their titles seem to be going places.

Watch this space guys!

Friday, 30 October 2015

Moonfruit

So sometime ago, my short story "Moonfruit" was read on my favourite radio station: BFM 89.9.

You can find the podcast here.

I hope you like it!

Saturday, 25 July 2015

"You can never really heal from being an experiment."
My sister