stripped bare

Archive for the ‘Insight’ Category

Re: Your recent comment

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If you haven’t been intimately privy to my recent struggles, you have no right to leave those comments on my blog. If you really cared, you’d know better than to ask those questions. Don’t presume you know what you know simply because of the things I post. You may or may not know that Life is a vicious cycle that goes back and forth. Today I rule the world, but at night, I have to nurse my wounds.

I removed your comment and my reply from my blog, Long-time Silent Reader, because you could have been genuinely concerned and didn’t realize how insensitive you were, saying those things.

If you knew of the things I’ve been doing outside of my blogs, you will see that I have been actively trying to “give up and move on”. However, I admit I am holding myself back from greater things, but that’s only because I’m still trying to reclaim my Self that I seem to have lost. But, as you’ve observed, “he already has someone else now”, so what is the problem again?

One day, perhaps, you will see me posting happy blog entries about my newfound happiness, or sharing photos of every meal I have with my new man, of every thing he has bought for me, of every time he holds my hand in bed, and maybe, even of every time he fucks me, but till then, whenever I get emotional, or whenever I’m feeling the need to rant, I shall post whatever I want to share on my blogs, because that’s how I must deal with it.

Thank you for caring enough to comment, though. Thank you.

Written by smudgi3

September 1, 2013, Sunday at 19:28

Love After Love

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The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

– Derek Walcott

Tokyo 2012

Written by smudgi3

July 24, 2013, Wednesday at 00:05

Ground of Being

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All my life I have looked and looked at the mystery of desire and I feel no closer to understanding it. Nothing else has so shaped my decisions, my way of life; were one to inventory the costs my sexual difference the total would be enormous, yet I know that I would have paid any price. But what is it that compels us, what is it we want? Touch? Entrance behind the barrier of the skin, to penetrate the boundaries of another body, or be penetrated ourselves, as a remedy for our extreme loneliness, the awful sensation of the singular self in the singular skin? Some narcotic form of forgetfulness, an opiate dispensed in the hands of another? Not orgasm, finally, and only partly pleasure: there are many sorts of pleasure, many forms of satisfaction, but what other has the deep lodestone pull that sex has? And I don’t believe it’s simply biology, the imperative to reproduce – since for me, obviously, there will be no issue from the unions I can’t seem to live without. I want; that is the prima facie thing, the ground of being. But what is it, in a man’s body, in the heat and touch and warm interior, the rush and delay of contact, what is it that I want? Shouldn’t I be able, after a life’s worth of practice, to name that?

******

How can these things ever be inscribed, do they forever belong to the realm of the unwriteable? I have the language of pornography, I have the language of anatomy or medicine, I have the language of euphemism, and I’m happy with none of them.

– “The Unwriteable”, Mark Doty

Written by smudgi3

June 11, 2012, Monday at 23:35

Cheap To Marry.

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I’ve never understood the significance of a wedding band. To me, the exchange of rings is less symbolic than the vows you make to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. A ring is an accessory, easily removable. Words written, uttered, remembered, are more significant and real. Yes, it’s true. I’m cheap to marry.

But with this ring…

Description from Spoon & Tamago:

“The Tokyo-based gallery deux poissons, 1 of only 3 galleries in all of Japan who specialize in jewelry, recently announced that they had enlisted Torafu Architects to design their latest piece. The young architecture duo, who have no experience designing jewelry, managed to leverage their immense knowledge of material to design a ring that poetically captures the essence of the bond that is formed between two people who decide to spend the rest of their lives together.

But don’t call it a timepiece. “Gold wedding ring” is crafted from 18k-gold which is then coated with a thin layer of silver. As time passes the silver wears away to reveal the gold. It’s a poetic piece that visualizes the time shared between two people.

Depending on which ring you choose – round (52,500 – 94,500 yen) or square (47,250 – 57,750 yen) – the gold is revealed in different ways.”

 

Such a sucker for these things. I’m now just approximately SGD1000 more expensive to marry.

Written by smudgi3

May 15, 2012, Tuesday at 23:11

Posted in Insight, Stuff

Within a dream.

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He kissed me, and my heart burst into tiny little birds fluttering under my rib cage, because he hadn’t kissed me like that in a long time. His lips were not so eager to leave mine, pressing themselves against me as if to soothe the ache of our loneliness, and time flew back to when those lips first met. I cried and half-opened my eyes, and it wasn’t him anymore but a faint glow of a person. Fingers were rubbing my lips and I hear a familiar voice, a gentle, high-pitched voice of a woman, as she looked down on me. She climbed onto the bed behind me and started to hum a lullaby, then put her cool arm over me, pulling me into an embrace. It was my grandma’s ghost. She’s come back to wake me up from a dream and to tell me that it was all right, I’m a big girl now, and I shouldn’t cry. It was the same words she would say every time I cried when I fell ill as a little girl. I knew it was her ghost and I remember feeling so happy that she had finally come to me in my dreams after her death. I quietly told myself that as soon as I wake up, I would tell my mother that my grandma has heard all my prayers. I couldn’t see her clearly, but her form was real. I could feel the softness of her body behind me. I could feel her warm breath as she hummed against my ear. Then I did wake up and I was in a big white room. I have been in this room before. There were bright lights above me but I couldn’t make out the faces before me. They were saying something and my eyelids were getting so heavy. The white room turned black.

I’m being reminded that in these three years I have lost everything. Everything.

Written by smudgi3

December 24, 2011, Saturday at 05:39

Too Old For This Sh*t

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If I could ever have the chance again to perform with a band, I’d want to reunite the members from my old band. We were the sexiest band in the club, and the envy of the others, because we had the full works and more: a drummer (who could do the double pedal), two guitarists, a bassist, a keyboardist, a cellist, and saxophonist, and a vocalist.

One by one, the members left. First the cellist, then the saxophonist… at one point, there was only me and one of the guitarist, who was also the frontman of the band. We were the tightest band and the musicians were so talented, but there were a few egos too many. Still, I miss the guys. I miss the jamming sessions, I miss learning new songs and making old ones ours. I miss standing, frightened and shaking, at the front of the stage, knowing my bassist was behind me on the right keeping time, and my frontman is just to my left, silently giving me strength. I miss knowing every single pair of eyes in the audience is on me, while the spotlights blind me from seeing anybody in the room at all. I performed for everybody and nobody.

Recently, I was at a music event and someone I didn’t know called out my name. He said he recognised me from those gigs and asked if I was still doing them. I admit I was flattered – it has been 13 years. But it also meant that I was good at something I love but had to give up because. Just because.

I remember all the angsty love songs we’d perform that the crowd loved. I wrote this post because I heard an angsty love song that would be great for a band and I imagined how we could have done it. If I could have a band again and we could have an album, it would be a collection of angsty love songs, none of those flat, no-range music that the cafes keep playing over and over. Angsty, heartwrenching love songs that reminds us of all the heartbreaks that made us who we are today.

Then I’d name the album “Too Old For This Sh*t”.

Written by smudgi3

September 10, 2011, Saturday at 22:12

Posted in Dear Diary, Insight

トイレの神様 Toilet Goddess

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“The song starts with Kana in the 3rd grade when she began living with her grandmother in a house next door to her parent’s house in Kawanishi, Hyogo Prefecture in 1990. Kana helped out with household chores, but was not good at cleaning the toilet. So her grandmother (obaachan) told her that the toilet actually had a beautiful goddess (megami). If she cleaned the toilet, she would grow up to become as beautiful as the goddess. From that day on, Kana cleaned the toilet spic-and-span (pika-pika) every day, wishing to become a beautiful woman (beppin).

The song then mentions a few family trials and tribulations. Once Kana went with her obaachan to go shopping and eat out, but obaachan had forgotten to videotape a Yoshimoto comedy TV program which Kana wanted to watch after getting back home. Kana got very upset and chided obaachan. Later when Kana was a teenager, she started having arguments with obaachan and couldn’t get along with her own family (mom and three siblings). She didn’t feel at home anywhere so she hung out with her boyfriend and didn’t come home during holidays. She stopped going out to eat and playing board games with her obaachan and they drifted apart. Kana asks herself why people hurt each other like that and keep losing things precious to them.

Kana eventually leaves obaachan and moves to Tokyo to try and make it as a singer. Two years later, obaachan is hospitalized and Kana comes homes to visit and sees her thin and frail. Kana greets her with, “Tadaima!” (I’m home!) as she did in the good old days, but before they hardly talked, obaachan just scolds her to go back to Tokyo and kicks her out of the hospital room. (Obaachan wanted Kana to concentrate on her singing and didn’t want her to return until she succeeded as a singer.) The next morning, obaachan passed away quietly. Obaachan apparently waited for Kana to return before passing away.

Kana then grieves to herself that although obaachan raised her well, she regrets not being able to pay her back as a filial granddaughter. And even though she was not a good grandchild, obaachan still waited for her to return before passing away.

Toward the end of the song, Kana wonders if she really did become a beppin (yes she did), and she pledges to continue cleaning the toilet spic-and-span. At the end of the song, she thanks her grandmother in the Kansai dialect.”

Excerpt from Photoguide.jp

English translation of song here

Written by smudgi3

March 9, 2011, Wednesday at 10:08

Posted in Dear Diary, Insight, Moods

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