Wanna play a round of Clue?

Checked out a post titled Hmph at A bit of Bruce and found a link to The Book Quiz.

You're Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov!

You're really into poetry and the interpretation thereof. Along the road of life, you have had several identity crises which make it very unclear who you are, let alone how to interpret poetry. You probably came from a foreign country, but then again you seem foreign to everyone in ways unrelated to immigration. Most people think you're quite funny, but maybe you're just sick. Talking to you ends up being much like playing a round of the popular board game Clue.

Umm... Foreign yes, poetry yes, sick yes, but identity crises?!

For a few seconds back to Hong Kong 香港

It's funny how photos of childhood haunts can miraculously transport you back to a memory and a place you've unconsciously carried with you all those years.

A couple of days ago, I had a look at some family photo albums. They were filled with the green and orange of Hong Kong. There were pictures of rickshaws, the Star Ferry (were I lost a tooth), and humid days followed by nights filled with the sounds of tree crickets.

There's something about Hong Kong that fits my personality. The climate's one thing. The contrast between man-made high rises and peaceful nature is another. Round-the-clock 7-Elevens aren't bad either. I could write a list of all the perks and drawbacks of Hong Kong, but in the end, there's no competition, it's Home.

All this left me feeling terribly homesick. Can't wait to get back, 屋企!

appreciating music

I love lyrics. I think it's magic when words and melody meet to describe something you've felt. I've written songs since I was a child. It's often been something I haven't been able to help, like a sudden discharge of words stuck to a tune. However, after writing and performing my first piece of music, which was an ode to my dog Mani, I decided that my songs will no longer repeat 'Mani you are a bunny' so very many times. Apparently that was too much of a discharge. My dog walked away embarrassed. I still do it secretly, though.

Sometimes lyrics touch me quite intensely, and that's just what happened last week. I was listening to Arcade Fire's Neon Bible, which I bought only because the guy in the record store was so very nice. (I can't help showing my gratitude to Finnish people who are kind and polite - unfortunately often on my own expense.) Their last song on the cd, 'My body is a cage', with its words and its wailing melody, described the utterly trapped feeling I've sometimes felt. It's like something raw and sharp-edged you have to swallow and digest.

I think the song's about physical entrapment, about feeling the shortcomings of what you can do as a human being and fighting that feeling with the beauty or beast trapped in your mind. I'm not saying the song's trying to heal the world with flashy lyrics and a catchy tune, and that all the people in the world should definitely hear this particular song (although it's bitching and you're missing something), it's just one of those that made me tap into something I've felt very strongly. Here's a short version of the lyrics (copyrights can screw themselves, I'm saying who it's by):

My body is a cage by Arcade Fire

My body is a cage
That keeps me from dancing with the one I love,
But my mind holds the key.

I'm standing on the stage
Of fear and self-doubt. It's a hollow play,
But they'll clap anyway.

Standing next to me.
My mind holds the key.

I'm living in an age
That calls darkness light. Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head.

I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know. Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow.

My body is a cage.

My body is a cage.
We take what we're given,
Just because you've forgotten, that don't mean you're forgiven.

I'm living in an age
Still turning in the night, but when I get to the doorway
There's no one in sight.

I'm living in an age,
Realizing I'm dancing with the one I love,
But my mind holds the key.

You're still next to me,
My mind holds the key.

Set my spirit free.
Set my spirit free.
Set my body free.
Set my body free.
Oh, oh. Oh, oh.

I'd love to hear which songs've touched you.

Purrrrrrrrrrrrrr......

Our family got a new member. Chiquita the Jack Russell's brother Batman the Cat was yesterday welcomed to The Blue House. I've never had a cat. I've only studied felines for physical theatre - you've got to appreciate their slinking - and I've always kept my distance. I've never really been friendly with one. Yesterday was, thus, spent on the floor trying to say a careful hello.

'Careful' didn't work at all. It was crash, boom, BANG, the sparks flew, and... he's in love with me. I can't sit to write without Batman jumping on my lap and purring like doomsday. He pulls my shirt with the sharpest nails I've been close to since the Hutus of the Philippines. Our faces are as close to each other as possible so that we can rub noses (?!). He even pounced when I was asleep so that poor little Chiquita didn't dare enter the bedroom. (She likes to sleep under the covers.)

Now we've two jealous animals craving for attention. Batman's snoring on my lap. I thought cats were loners?

this will grow on me?

Yesterday I realised that my sick eye can handle computer screens in small doses and that blogs are actually pretty neat. My anarchistic I-communicate-with-people-not-machines side survived the blow of starting a blog, and I'm psyched to test my longevity with this.

So here I'll muse. Sometimes with Erato, Melpomene, Terpsichore, and their gang. Maybe with you. Sometimes with myself and as myself. In the hopes of creating a frequency for musings.

So, let's see. Maybe this will grow on me.