Monday, December 13, 2010

Saturday, December 11, 2010

The Great Bedroom Backtrack


On the other hand, who am I kidding - I'd love to have a glamorous bedroom like this!

Moodboards for Living

I've been playing with the moodboards on the mydeco boutique. (note: it's actually a competition) Methinks I actually have a certain style that I kind of gravitate towards. Behold:

Moodboard 1:

Red-Black-Blue



Moodboard 2:

Living Room Casual



I don't really like styles that are overly minimalistic (e.g. all-white houses) or ornate (e.g. too many chandeliers, gilded furniture, & embroidered cushions). I kinda dig the casual-playful-eclectic styles. Something that's easy to live in.

Ah... the nesting instincts.

Sunday, December 05, 2010

Sobering thought

I think I'll need to start writing more, not just assignments, but in general. I'm starting to find that writing doesn't come as easily to me as it once did. This is partly because I'm writing denser (& hopefully more sophisticated) arguments, partly because the stakes are higher and I'm therefore more cautious about what I write. But it's also because I don't write as much anymore, on my blog or for assignments. Yes, I write much longer papers now, but I don't write as MANY papers. I need to get into the habit of writing stuff / nonsense again.

Saturday, December 04, 2010

I remember you as you were, Pablo Neruda

I remember you as you were in the last autumn.
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.

Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.

I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house
Towards which my deep longings migrated
And my kisses fell, happy as embers.

Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.

Pablo Neruda

Lost in the Forest, Pablo Neruda

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.

Pablo Neruda

Stravinsky, Petrushka



I was wondering whether Petrushka's good to have swirling around in your head while you're trying to write a bigass paper, but then I realised that I was just getting distracted from work by the thought of the music possibly distracting me from work.

11,000 words to go!