tales to take your breath away

i want to start reading again. it was something i really enjoyed in my younger days. the thirst for stories, the adventures, without ever setting foot outside my room. and here's the proposed reading list for the rest of the semester/summer, master pieces i've always wanted to read:

• Joseph Conrad "Heart of Darkness" 
• Ernest Hemingway “The Undefeated” and “The Snows of Kilimanjaro”
• Franz Kafka “The Metamorphosis” and “In the Penal Colony”
• Rudyard Kipling “The Man who would be King”, “The Phantom Rickshaw” and “Black Jack”
• Robert Louis Stevenson "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"
• Leo Tolstoy “The Death of Ivan Ilych” and "Father Sergius”

+listening to: jimi thing by dave matthews band

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melancholy

i've always thought that melancholia was a justification i came up with for being "emo". there were definitely those truly "emo" times where tears were shed and spirits were dampened, but mostly of the time i think i hang in the balance between the two extremes of the human emotions. walking a fine line, struggling between the polarities of consciousness.

melancholia is "turbulent", while depression is "passive". i think that's what i've always been trying to explain to myself and others.

what prompted me to these thoughts was this book that i fortuitously chanced upon entitled against happiness. kind of a counter intuitive title, but i adore it. i don't have a copy but i'm quite aware of what the author wants to put across - an expose into melancholia.


and it's also not surprising that some of the most creative works of our times were composed when the artistes have immersed themselves in this strange and ambivalent state of emotion.

time to put it on the christmas wishlist.



+listening to: woman of heart and mind by joni mitchell

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lambs to the slaughter

these past few days i've been doing some pretty strange things while sorting the mess out in my room to facilitate the much dreaded packing process come time for me to get the luggage out. and from a bunch of magazines under my bed (literally), i fished out a book that looked interestingly familiar.

it was roald dahl's collection of short stories. and being the bored soul that i was and still am, i decided that what the heck, i might as well read it again since i can't really remember any of it (if i ever even read it that is).


and as fortune (or fate) would have it, it was only short stories. i just couldn't imagine myself going through a full length book at this juncture. it's been a while since i last touched anything that even remotely resembled material worthy of actual reading.

and i finished the book cover to cover twice before realizing that i couldn't stop reading it. roald dahl had never interested me like he did other kids. i'd always been more of a tom clancy/dale brown kind of guy. but somehow i got hooked this time round. maybe it's his dark, sinister writing style, maybe it's the cynical, black-comedy sort of narrative.

and the story that stood out for me was lambs to the slaughter. somehow when you're a kid you never think too much reading these type of stories. you merely treat them as fictitious work with no apparent motive other than to entertain. but i guess as you grow older you can see the writer's intentions much more clearly and you start to hypothesize about certain hidden agendas, much like how roald dahl was trying to reflect the depravity, violence and cruelty in our societies. that's how i saw it anyway.

other than being an interesting read, the title has again inflicted memories of the good old school days. as we all know too well, this time of year is the often apprehended block tests (aka blocks) season.

the signs are ominous and those eleventh-hour buddha feet unsurprisingly in hot demand among the resident school population. besides the disappointing fact that the holidays have come to an end, most people are probably crapping their pants over the prospect of a catastrophic failure.

like lambs to the slaughter, how very appropriete.


+listening to: yer blues by jeff healey

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Revelation!

what's the big revelation? one might ask. it's the book! SLASH! finally laid my grubby meathooks on it today. i was so tempted to get the hardcover version, but the 20 dollar premium on 2 pieces of cardboard hardly seems to justify any rational reasoning. so i got the paperback version. same difference. good read nontheless. it's really one of the best things that's happened to me in recent days, reading about your childhood hero, coz slash has been THE penultimate, real guitar hero there will ever be. he's style and playing speaks to me. and he is the reason i started playing guitar in the first place. plus he's a cool dude! just watch the interview with conan o'brian, it's hilarious

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