Re: Court Representation

Dear Madam,

I have assumed your kindness in reading this letter will automatically qualify you as a likely candidate for a simple request such as this. The law does not condone surgery if a durable or springing power of attorney is not granted by the patient. Our dilemma is this: The patient in question has been rendered mute and is currently in a state of vegetation (Different to the state of vegetablility he is used to being in. That was a conscious state). He has not had the foresight to appoint a power of attorney to anyone (as most cucumbers don't, let's not point fingers now especially since they don't have any) and is now incapable of doing so. However, surgery in the near future brings the possibility of restoring his quality of life to what it was.

I beg your kindness in representing two such unfortunate cucumbers in court so that they should be given a second chance at life and their unfortunate oversight (or undersight) toward legal matters be forgiven. Speak, strike, redress. And to redress, one needs speech. Or cloth.

Your fees are undoubtedly the highest in New York, yet we do not hesitate to seek your expertise since we want only the best for our loved ones. Your stand on the case is clear; 'Larry Dies' was tatooed all over the outside of your building in red watermelon juice, and the news coverage has been fantastic. I understand you must have been very agitated to waste such a beverage of preference. We have been stalking (celery style) you and we know you drink it every morning. And since you have that very little bit of handy knowledge, we know where you live too. We know about topsy. We know about the short samurai who sneaks into your bedroom on tuesday nights. We know that you own 12 tubs of mashed celery which you eat with ferver when you're stressed. And finally, we know who you fell in love with when you were in kindy. We have him hostage right now in the four seasons hotel (he likes spas you see) and if you do not comply to our request, we will haul you into court and make him testify about your baby pictures! WE KNOW ABOUT THAT BABY PICTURE.

We hope that you will have compassion on our green friends. Please make your decision quickly because our friends lives are in danger. Other lives are also in danger. Social lives, for example. You know what I mean. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely and undoubtedly truthfully,

L&S

p.s. If you do not comply, this letter will self destruct and all the pink bacteria bombs in your office will explode into a tiny mess of vibrant color.

p.p.s. Count your VJ PE shorts. You're missing one pair and I'm wearing them. Very comfy.

*hackCoughh..Garklrrraaaachkoffptui* adrenaline pumping, throat rawing feeling of the day.

I Haven't caught Jon for the longest longest time and I miss the diva! Bitcheeeee! Fortunately, things haven't changed that much. ;) missing the 'xi qi yang yang' times we used to have singing in the classroom. Cheers to the corny Julius Caesar days.

[szavazeng] ★jon★ hips don't lie. neither do elbows, knees, toes... says:
i felt so violated
[saraquelle] _. Majesty`- la princesse d'or. says:
were u totally flattered?
[saraquelle] _. Majesty`- la princesse d'or. says:
hahaah
[saraquelle] _. Majesty`- la princesse d'or. says:
oh. u?
[saraquelle] _. Majesty`- la princesse d'or. says:
you've been violated since ZX and LC tried to..
[saraquelle] _. Majesty`- la princesse d'or. says:
to..
[szavazeng] ★jon★ hips don't lie. neither do elbows, knees, toes... says:
ravish me
[szavazeng] ★jon★ hips don't lie. neither do elbows, knees, toes... says:
haha
[saraquelle] _. Majesty`- la princesse d'or. says:
yah
[szavazeng] ★jon★ hips don't lie. neither do elbows, knees, toes... says:
but then again,
[szavazeng] ★jon★ hips don't lie. neither do elbows, knees, toes... says:
i am ravishing.
[saraquelle] _. Majesty`- la princesse d'or. says:
ahha
[saraquelle] _. Majesty`- la princesse d'or. says:
that you are my friend

You're the only one who says 'OMG Lah'.

Housekeeping first. RACHEL! When are you coming home! I miss you! (I haven't seen you in six months but what difference does it make? It feels funny that you're not at home!) I hope you check your blog in UK.

Things have taken a turn. 2700 words have been agonisingly coughed up and I can finally begin editing. I feel my sanity stretching like a rubber band. I thought Paul Bettany in the DaVinci code was an awesome actor. Maybe it's the constantly petrified look (in more senses than one). Heeeee. Cheesysmileformebaby.

There's no remedy for love
Nothing can change the way I feel
I'm hopelessly head over heels
For worse or for better
There's no remedy for love
But I'd have it no other way
The symptoms are clear, I'm yours
For now and forever
There's no remedy for love

Caught up in the concept of your kisses
Of the Mr. and the Mrs.
Of the steps our love is taking here
I'm lost in the magic and the mystery
In our own small part of history
Our hearts have started making here
And I know there'll be no cure for me
But what sweet malady

There's no remedy for love
Nothing can change the way I feel
I'm hopelessly head over heels
For worse or for better
There's no remedy for love
But I'd have it no other way
The symptoms are clear, I'm yours
For now and forever
There's no remedy for love
There's no remedy for love

Yahyah, I nearly died of mushiness too. Especially since I feel particularly cynical right now. Nevertheless- GOT to have it at my wedding. Hurh. Not very cynical, huh? Just jaded. The OCD is gone now- but library books are smelly la. Gonna be home all day doing assignments; raid the pantry and abduct more teabags rahrahrah! Prisoners of war; they shall be drunk with malice.

Intercede for my sanity; it has 4 weeks to suffer. Should i start counting days and strike them off with eyeliner on my wall? Eyeliner is the new crayon. Blackened wallflowers scratched onto a mortified wall. O_O.

I can't read/listen to anymore bombarding. Do you really think I have such fantastic coping skills? Well you flatter me but I would rather you knew that I DON'T. I want to quit. I QUIT.
What's worse, I'm developing an OCD that obssesses with smells and I just have to know what that smell is and where it comes from and how to get rid of it and I HATE IT. Oh this is such a sign of stress.

HELP.

Can you see it in my eyes?
It's a wary fear.
The guardedness is so tiring.

Cruel apathy.
Painfully kept lies.
Grave of the fireflies is one of Miyazaki's most heart wrenching works.

I'd marry for love, wouldn't you? ;)

Mademoiselle Rachelle la poisson-
How do i get myself into those situations, except when you are there? Those funny bunny, roll around, up and down situations. Those inexplicably hilariously high places in life that I only find when I meet with you. The worst and best puns, pointed, dotty, or just plain ridiculous. You are one sik chik and I love you very much because you are all that and more. I don't know why; you've shared so much in my life and I am beginning to think of how things will be like when us three are in three corners of the world.. spreading manzai-saness pervasively and unstoppably. You certainly are special with a specialness I cannot explain. Just that I treasure you very muchly and I love you long time deep deep! hahaha. Take care of yourself girl, I love you with as much love as I have to give.

Love, your daHling with the capital H.

A cup of tea. Mandrin oranges. Papers. Books. And a hidden heart. unloved?

falsas esperanzas

I have learnt where to look for it. In puddles, against black windows, or in the plink-plonk of the dripping pipes. It is such an elusively obvious thing, rain. You know, but you don't know.

The man at the makeshift fruit stall, back bent over something, anything. Looking busy is so important. I knew what he meant. I sat with my notes in hand, hardly interested. Instead I listened to the slow droning of the radio at the fruit stall and wondered about fruits, rain, and time.

Was he happy? Was he not? Was he crazy, or just tired of it all? I tried to ask those questions of myself, and since I couldn't answer them, decided that whatever answer I derived for someone I didn't know would be equally stale and incredibly incredible. You know what I mean.

Time crawled. The fruitseller took no notice. He was tired of time, defiant; Let it pass, let it not. Why is it so important? I asked myself another unanswerable question, and wasted some crawling time fishing for an answer. Fish fish, plinkplonk. Time governs with an arbitrary government. It says that my assignment is due on a certain date at a certain time, but as I discovered, it doesn't really matter. Why let it threaten me, my peace and my life? It doesn't revolve around time, although I'm certainly stuck in it. Futility engages irritation. There IS a way out. Funny, the way out is really in.

In accordance with arbitrary tyrannism, I encountered an irate caller who demanded of me what I had decided was above my means. (Nothing is ever really above your means; But that constitutes giving life and breath to a thing you deem worthwhile, and that you may not.) Having been pressured into a psychological edema so pervasive I could have screamed, I stoically replied that almost anything could be done to me and I would have merely flinched to hide a smile. Do as you wish, you have no hold over me. You are, after all, no less mortal than I. If you were any more mortal I would have forgiven your oversight, and if you were any less, I would not have expected it.

On a lighter note than rain, I have grateful thanks to music, friends and love. Rested and preserved, my Father will not have me fall. I am grateful.

Une poste en français.
J'ai pensé des mots et j'ai commencé à demander pourquoi ils causent le si beaucoup d'ennui. Qu'est peut-être pourquoi j'ai décidé qu'ils n'ont pas d'importance autant que leur sens. Qu'est peut-être pourquoi ma poste est en français. Vous pouvez obtenir l'a traduit, n'importe. Et cette façon, je peux vous dire n'importe quoi je veux dans le français le plus terrible et vous pouvez le traduire et sait que je signifie.

Actually, maybe not. I just tried it myself and it was frenchenstein. An absolute horror and I make no sense. Maybe it's better this way. I can write what I like. Not like I'll know what I meant 10 years down the road.. It's all greek to me. =)

Words

And I've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you

Each one a line or two, I'm fine baby, how are you?

Well I would send them but I know that it's just not enough.

My words were cold and flat

you deserve more than that.

-Michael Buble

In times that words are not enough, I believe you have had the wisdom of silence. More than that, a wisdom in choosing words even when I did not ask for them; not too many, not too few, and just the right ones. Words that speak more than a voice, last longer than a breath. And most of all, that gift of speaking without words, both for me and to me. Obrigado.

She's alone tonight
with a bitter cup and
She's undone tonight
She's all used up.

She's been staring down the demons
Who've been screaming
she's just another so and so
Another so and so

You are golden,
You are golden, Child
You are golden,(Don't let go)
(Don't let go tonight)

There's a fear that burns
Like trash inside
And you're ashamed of the curse
That burns your eyes
You've been hiding in your bedroom
Hoping this isn't not how the story has to go
It's not the way it goes
It's your book now

You're Golden,
You are golden, Child
You are golden,(Don't let go)
(Don't let go tonight)

You're a lonely soul
Inlet of broken hearts
You're far from home
It's a perfect place to start

(Yeah!)
(Burn)
(Burn, Burn!)

So this final verse
Is a contradiction
And the more we learn
The less we know
We've been talkin' about a feeling
We both know inside but couldn't find the words
I couldn't write this verse
I've seldom been so sure
About anything before

Golden,
You are Golden, Child
You are Golden,(Don't let go)
(Don't let go tonight)

This world is a dead man down (Golden, you are)
Every breath is a singing crown away (Golden, Child, you are)
Like some debilitated king (Golden, don't let go)
Don't let go tonight
Earth Spins and your mind goes round' (Golden, you are)
Green comes on the frozen ground (Golden, Child, you are)
And everything will be made new again (Golden)
Like freedom and spring (Golden, Golden)
Hey, like freedom and spring (Golden, you are, hey)
Like freedom and spring (Golden, Child, you are)(Gold...)

There were two trees.

On one, hung a man by a noose, swinging, swaying as the wind whistled morbidly. I can only imagine the look on the faces of the pompous men in long robes when they saw him- frantic, guiltly, unrepentant. Throw a little sand over it, they said. It's his own fault. And yet they feared. So they bought over the field with Judas' blood money, and it became a burial place for foreigners. They had no clue to the prophecy fufilled through their guilty act; less still about the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. One can only wonder if they stopped at the other tree long enough to make the connection between the beginning of time and the end of death.

The other tree was far from lonely. The crowd surrounding it roared; some for what they perceived as victory, others for a loss so dear they thought they would never recover. They did, however. 3 days later. The man, pinned to the tree by nails, was a matted mess of blood, gravel, soil and sweat. His face, you thought, would spit hatred. But when you looked up he was talking to John, with a weary look of love and longing. "Take care of my mother". The words hit hard; a life of ministry meant being at home.. well, not at all. He was human, after all. And He was fully divine at the same time. Perhaps he wrestled with the paradox, perhaps he reveled in it. Whatever it was, he knew what he had come for. The tree of life, the second Adam, was sent for one purpose, and one purpose only. Redemption.

He lifted the cup with a quiet strength, closed His eyes, and drank.

Sot.

You know how it is when people repeatedly poke their skull with one finger and scrunch up their face at the same time? Yaah, the word that comes out alongside that is almost spat out, and I never paid attention to it because it made no sense to me. I'm afraid that's not the case anymore. Sot is the highly technical term for crazy (just like Suze's highly technical term for abominable is sponky. Got to love Suze).

I feel like I've just woken from a crazy dream like a patient from anaesthesia. I'm tired, but I'm so glad that the worst is over. Melly dear.. I appreciate you so much. reallyreally. What would I do without you as my darling mum? And papa, I think you're doing an exellent job. hurhurhur. Parenting is done by more than 2. It's done in fours and sixes and eights.

What I crave for now is a good book and a cup of tea. I crave the peace He gives me. I crave His presence; my life in shards - He loves me still.

Mixed feelings, mixed everything.

You know how children think that the best paint color is a mix of all their favourites? The experiment went awry. (Rachel, do you insist on 'or-rie' or is 'a-rye' the generally accepted thing now?) It just goes to show: you can't eat your cake and have it. (I hear you babe, I hear a loud and lengthy 'but whhyyyyyy???' coming. The italics say it all.)

I miss you gals, I really do. And mainly for the benefit of the chao tar sotong and others who potter around here, I miss you guys too.