Sunday, 4 August 2019
連
22:34; The Pianist'
Friday, 26 February 2016
Muse
It's been a while since,
I came back to my own
soliloquy.
May I have the calmness to think,
the courage to accept my own
character.
I came back to my own
soliloquy.
May I have the calmness to think,
the courage to accept my own
character.
00:07; The Pianist'
Thursday, 7 May 2015
累
累。。就永远睡吧。。
Labels: chinese, growing up, mundane, rambling
21:33; The Pianist'
Monday, 16 March 2015
人之常情
From the surface, at first blush, one can never really tell what goes on in a person's life - what that serious expression is hiding, what that smile is masking, what that blank look is suppressing.
The pains, the wrongs, the accusations...
想要的难道不都是那一点点的认可, 微微的了解, 稍稍的挂念。。。淡淡的情意?
人与人之间所存有的真挚人情,温馨联系。。。
其实, 只是想知道自己不是一个人单独作战。
人, 就是那么的脆弱。
人,也可以是那么的坚强。
一线之差, 可能就位于人之人情。
The pains, the wrongs, the accusations...
想要的难道不都是那一点点的认可, 微微的了解, 稍稍的挂念。。。淡淡的情意?
人与人之间所存有的真挚人情,温馨联系。。。
其实, 只是想知道自己不是一个人单独作战。
人, 就是那么的脆弱。
人,也可以是那么的坚强。
一线之差, 可能就位于人之人情。
22:15; The Pianist'
Friday, 17 October 2014
A talk.
And then something within me bled. And died.
Labels: rambling
22:43; The Pianist'
Sunday, 13 July 2014
Death
Death - the one thing that we all are (secretly) morbidly fascinated with. It's the only certainty we have in this ever-changing environment. Yet, ever so often, we choose not to think about the inevitable.
Funerals - the thing that we say is for the dead. It's the time when the living gather to say nice things and think nice thoughts about the dead. Yet, more often than not, it actually is for the living.
Love - that incomprehensible mystery that we all like to chase after. It's that
Yet, we tend to love broadly instead of deeply.
When I was younger, I always wanted to attend my own funeral - to hear what people would say of me. I often wondered what it is that they have to wait until I'm dead instead of telling me directly when I'm alive.
When I grew up, I then wanted to die before my loved ones - to avoid going through the pain of losing them. I often thought that I would rather die in their arms than having them die in mine.
Now, I think of who I hope would be delivering the eulogy at my own funeral - to figure out who really are closely cherished and loved. These are the ones I want to love deeply, so that there will be no regrets if I ever have to give their eulogies.
Labels: exposition, friends, growing up, love, prose, writings
03:44; The Pianist'
Sunday, 25 May 2014
Tinder
About 70 months ago, someone warned me not to play with fire. I thought I learnt my lesson.
Maybe I did, since the fire now is a different kind. But, I'm not sure I can - or rather, want to - control it...
Maybe I did, since the fire now is a different kind. But, I'm not sure I can - or rather, want to - control it...
22:53; The Pianist'
Thursday, 22 May 2014
Connections
If you don't expose the valence electrons, how can you form meaningful, lasting connections?
Sometimes you transfer them to form ionic bonds, sometimes you share them to form covalent bonds, sometimes you donate then to form dative bonds.
Sometimes it's NaCl, sometimes it's H-O-H. Or it can even be (CH3)-O-H. At the end of it all, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Different compounds are just formed differrntly with different types of interactions and connections.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me...
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
And rainbows have nothing to hide...
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.
Sometimes you transfer them to form ionic bonds, sometimes you share them to form covalent bonds, sometimes you donate then to form dative bonds.
Sometimes it's NaCl, sometimes it's H-O-H. Or it can even be (CH3)-O-H. At the end of it all, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Different compounds are just formed differrntly with different types of interactions and connections.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me...
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
And rainbows have nothing to hide...
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.
Labels: exposition, growing up, rambling, writings
01:12; The Pianist'
Wednesday, 13 November 2013
这条路
这，这条路怎么走？
我，难道还做不够？
你，会让我回头，靠着你从此以后？
这，这条路怎么走？
我，难道还做不够？
你，会让我回头，靠着你从此以后？
] 许多事虽然不明白，
但我深知主在掌权。
只要你肯回到他身边，
耐心等待主，主必垂听你祷告 -
]] 有时他没有回答，
有时他没给答案，
在我痛苦哀求他时他却离开。
有时他没有回答，
有时他没给答案，
在我痛苦哀求他离开。
我，难道还做不够？
你，会让我回头，靠着你从此以后？
这，这条路怎么走？
我，难道还做不够？
你，会让我回头，靠着你从此以后？
] 许多事虽然不明白，
但我深知主在掌权。
只要你肯回到他身边，
耐心等待主，主必垂听你祷告 -
]] 有时他没有回答，
有时他没给答案，
在我痛苦哀求他时他却离开。
有时他没有回答，
有时他没给答案，
在我痛苦哀求他离开。
这，这条路怎么走？
我，难道还做不够？
你，会让我回头，靠着你从此以后？
我，难道还做不够？
你，会让我回头，靠着你从此以后？
00:34; The Pianist'
Sunday, 27 October 2013
Memories of a dear friend
Was just mindlessly surfing on facebook and came across a friend being tagged in his friend's post. Or should I say, a late friend - someone who has already gone from this world. And so I was surprised to see that people still tag him, or post on his page.
And I decided to take a quick look at his fb page, and realised that his family members and loved ones still regularly post on his wall, tag him in photos and even videos.
And I noticed his profile pic on facebook - that classic smile. The smile that was on his face even when he could not move on his own and was confined to his own room. The smile that was on his face when I visited him and he said he decided to make use of his time by reading books and self-study. The smile which he had since I knew him in Secondary school.
Rest in peace, Melvin. It was great having you as a friend sitting in the same row for 2 years in secondary school. For the geeky maths talk we had. And it was an honour knowing you - a warrior who never gave up in the fight for health, in the face of circumstances which most people would have given up way earlier before you.
And, thank you, for reminding me today that there's always things that we can choose to do with our lives, no matter what the circumstances.
And I decided to take a quick look at his fb page, and realised that his family members and loved ones still regularly post on his wall, tag him in photos and even videos.
And I noticed his profile pic on facebook - that classic smile. The smile that was on his face even when he could not move on his own and was confined to his own room. The smile that was on his face when I visited him and he said he decided to make use of his time by reading books and self-study. The smile which he had since I knew him in Secondary school.
Rest in peace, Melvin. It was great having you as a friend sitting in the same row for 2 years in secondary school. For the geeky maths talk we had. And it was an honour knowing you - a warrior who never gave up in the fight for health, in the face of circumstances which most people would have given up way earlier before you.
And, thank you, for reminding me today that there's always things that we can choose to do with our lives, no matter what the circumstances.
Labels: friends, growing up, rambling
01:56; The Pianist'
Tuesday, 4 June 2013
Breakdown
And then the beast slowly creeps out and consumes from the inside out. Until it becomes uncontainable, and it leashes out in full bloom, forever making its mark as the Prince of Evil, condemned ultimately to hell, but not before tearing apart everything in its path.
Labels: rambling
01:12; The Pianist'
Wednesday, 1 May 2013
为什么？
03:02; The Pianist'
Friday, 22 February 2013
?
If you don't even understand yourself, how do you expect others to understand you?
Labels: rambling
00:05; The Pianist'
Thursday, 8 November 2012
Brief respite (?)
Done with presentation yesterday, one more to go for tomorrow. And then it's Research Paper due next Friday. I ought to be more gan jiong in chionging my RP, but somehow I'm feeling a sense of zen. An inexplicable sense of... peace?
It's like I can sit there and watch time slip by - a luxury I have not had for the past few weeks. Yet I know, once I head to sleep (soon) and wake up, it's madness rush again.
So for now, I'll just take a deep breath or two. Non-cognitively zen, yet cognitively still a bit of disturbance. It's pretty strange I must say.
It's like I can sit there and watch time slip by - a luxury I have not had for the past few weeks. Yet I know, once I head to sleep (soon) and wake up, it's madness rush again.
So for now, I'll just take a deep breath or two. Non-cognitively zen, yet cognitively still a bit of disturbance. It's pretty strange I must say.
22:39; The Pianist'
Thursday, 11 October 2012
-
Amazingly ridiculous I don't even understand.
And that's when you block everything out, and just push yourself on. 'cos it seems like that's the only thing left to do.
And that's when you block everything out, and just push yourself on. 'cos it seems like that's the only thing left to do.
21:21; The Pianist'
Wednesday, 10 October 2012
感慨
Tired. But still gotta press on.
No one can blame someone else for whatever happens in his/her life. We all take charge of our life and are solely responsible for it. It's not as if someone tied/chained you to a chair such that you had no freedom at all.
Gotta take charge of your own life. I gotta be responsible for my decisions and choices.
如果做人跟写“人”一样容易，那该多好。
No one can blame someone else for whatever happens in his/her life. We all take charge of our life and are solely responsible for it. It's not as if someone tied/chained you to a chair such that you had no freedom at all.
Gotta take charge of your own life. I gotta be responsible for my decisions and choices.
如果做人跟写“人”一样容易，那该多好。
05:19; The Pianist'
Monday, 1 October 2012
搞什么嘛
搞什么嘛。一个礼拜就这样过去了。
读也读不好，休息也休不了。结果到头来还不是这样？
满脑子杂乱，又不能安定心情。浮现的画面，模糊的概念。哪知怎么办？
说，也不知道该说什么。
讲，也不知道该怎么讲。
逃，也不知道该往哪儿去。
想，也不知道该如何呢？
哎，搞什么嘛。神真的是太幽默了。
读也读不好，休息也休不了。结果到头来还不是这样？
满脑子杂乱，又不能安定心情。浮现的画面，模糊的概念。哪知怎么办？
说，也不知道该说什么。
讲，也不知道该怎么讲。
逃，也不知道该往哪儿去。
想，也不知道该如何呢？
哎，搞什么嘛。神真的是太幽默了。
12:51; The Pianist'
Friday, 31 August 2012
The Long Day Closes
Been in a strange mood lately. Doesn't help that the weather's strange too.
Couldn't get to sleep some nights ago - I found my thoughts fluttering all over: some kind of overload yet it's not so concrete and I don't know how to express it. The only thing that was constant during that hours of consciousness as I lay on my bed was the looping of the song: 'The Long Day Closes', text written by Henry Chorley, set into music by Arthur Sullivan in 1868.
The Long Day Closes
No star is o'er the lake,
Its pale watch keeping,
The moon is half awake,
Through gray mist creeping,
The last red leaves fall round
The porch of roses,
The clock hath ceased to sound,
The long day closes.
Sit by the silent hearth
in calm endeavour,
To count the sounds of mirth,
Now dumb for ever.
Heed not how hope believes
And fate disposes:
Shadow is round the eaves,
The long day closes.
The lighted windows dim
Are fading slowly.
The fire that was so trim
Now quivers lowly.
Go to the dreamless bed
Where grief reposes;
Thy book of toil is read,
The long day closes.
The idea of death, though never explicitly mentioned, is vividly represented in the many simple incidents that happen in everyday life. The recurring image of something ending is unmistakeable. Perhaps that is why it strikes a resonant chord within me.
Particularly haunting is the amazing work Sullivan has done in capturing the essence in the music, which admittedly is the stronger reason why this song appeals to me:
The first phrase starts off with subtle differences and changes in its harmony, ultimately resolving to a different chord on and emphasizing 'pale'. And that is the first word that really sinks into the listener.
When it comes to 'the long day closes' for the first time, it is markedly given a longer 'airtime' as compared to all other previous phrases where the words keep moving. And that plays up the kind of anticipation that has been building up, culminating in the feeling that finally the day is closing.
The cycle then repeats, with the familiar musical starting of the phrase 'Sit by the silent hearth' as we are invited to sit by a fireplace, as though preparing to hear a story. What we are subsequently presented with is very different from what we experienced in the first stanza - we first note the difference (in chord harmony and dynamics) at 'now dumb for ever', immediately followed by the almost garish 'warning' of 'Heed not now hope believes and fate disposes'; this presumably alludes to the fact that life will go through its fair share of ups and downs, 'mirths' and 'nots', before it (or rather, but eventually still) comes to an end as the long day closes.
The music for the third stanza is set in an overlapping style, pushing the song (and life) forward as it gains impetus and momentum as it gets caught up in itself, until it finds itself quivering lowly. That somehow brings to mind a picture of old age. And it is then that we end up on the dreamless bed. A bed which its user will never dream. A bed that is devoid of all consciousness and subconsciousness. A bed where death is fully borne.
And in a last attempt to mourn and remember the dead, we so often gather everyone at this dreamless bed, where eulogies after eulogies are read out, where one's book of toil is read over and over again. The music spends a third of its time just on these last 4 lines of the poem - highly disproportionate in terms of its physical place in the poem. Yet, it is loaded with such emotional significance it cannot be emphasized more.
And only then, finally, the long day closes.
----------
Honestly, I didn't set out to analyse the music in such detail. I merely wanted to give some details on why it was particularly haunting for me. (and the analysis above, if you can call it an analysis, is lacking in many respects and incomplete and unelaborated on many counts, but deliberately so)
On that night as I lay on my bed, the song was looping in my head in the form of these few lines:
'No star is o'er the lake, its pale watch keeping, the moon is half awake, through gray mist creeping, the last red leaves fall round the porch of roses, the clock hath ceased to sound, the long... day... clo...ses...
Go to the dreamless bed where grief reposes, thy book of toil is read, the long day closes... the long day closes...'
Perhaps I was seeking to find closure in some items, or to find some conclusion. Or to find some answers.
Perhaps, it's time to close a chapter and move on.
Perhaps, it's more of being able to let go.
Perhaps, it's time for the long day to close...
Couldn't get to sleep some nights ago - I found my thoughts fluttering all over: some kind of overload yet it's not so concrete and I don't know how to express it. The only thing that was constant during that hours of consciousness as I lay on my bed was the looping of the song: 'The Long Day Closes', text written by Henry Chorley, set into music by Arthur Sullivan in 1868.
The Long Day Closes
No star is o'er the lake,
Its pale watch keeping,
The moon is half awake,
Through gray mist creeping,
The last red leaves fall round
The porch of roses,
The clock hath ceased to sound,
The long day closes.
Sit by the silent hearth
in calm endeavour,
To count the sounds of mirth,
Now dumb for ever.
Heed not how hope believes
And fate disposes:
Shadow is round the eaves,
The long day closes.
The lighted windows dim
Are fading slowly.
The fire that was so trim
Now quivers lowly.
Go to the dreamless bed
Where grief reposes;
Thy book of toil is read,
The long day closes.
The idea of death, though never explicitly mentioned, is vividly represented in the many simple incidents that happen in everyday life. The recurring image of something ending is unmistakeable. Perhaps that is why it strikes a resonant chord within me.
Particularly haunting is the amazing work Sullivan has done in capturing the essence in the music, which admittedly is the stronger reason why this song appeals to me:
The first phrase starts off with subtle differences and changes in its harmony, ultimately resolving to a different chord on and emphasizing 'pale'. And that is the first word that really sinks into the listener.
When it comes to 'the long day closes' for the first time, it is markedly given a longer 'airtime' as compared to all other previous phrases where the words keep moving. And that plays up the kind of anticipation that has been building up, culminating in the feeling that finally the day is closing.
The cycle then repeats, with the familiar musical starting of the phrase 'Sit by the silent hearth' as we are invited to sit by a fireplace, as though preparing to hear a story. What we are subsequently presented with is very different from what we experienced in the first stanza - we first note the difference (in chord harmony and dynamics) at 'now dumb for ever', immediately followed by the almost garish 'warning' of 'Heed not now hope believes and fate disposes'; this presumably alludes to the fact that life will go through its fair share of ups and downs, 'mirths' and 'nots', before it (or rather, but eventually still) comes to an end as the long day closes.
The music for the third stanza is set in an overlapping style, pushing the song (and life) forward as it gains impetus and momentum as it gets caught up in itself, until it finds itself quivering lowly. That somehow brings to mind a picture of old age. And it is then that we end up on the dreamless bed. A bed which its user will never dream. A bed that is devoid of all consciousness and subconsciousness. A bed where death is fully borne.
And in a last attempt to mourn and remember the dead, we so often gather everyone at this dreamless bed, where eulogies after eulogies are read out, where one's book of toil is read over and over again. The music spends a third of its time just on these last 4 lines of the poem - highly disproportionate in terms of its physical place in the poem. Yet, it is loaded with such emotional significance it cannot be emphasized more.
And only then, finally, the long day closes.
----------
Honestly, I didn't set out to analyse the music in such detail. I merely wanted to give some details on why it was particularly haunting for me. (and the analysis above, if you can call it an analysis, is lacking in many respects and incomplete and unelaborated on many counts, but deliberately so)
On that night as I lay on my bed, the song was looping in my head in the form of these few lines:
'No star is o'er the lake, its pale watch keeping, the moon is half awake, through gray mist creeping, the last red leaves fall round the porch of roses, the clock hath ceased to sound, the long... day... clo...ses...
Go to the dreamless bed where grief reposes, thy book of toil is read, the long day closes... the long day closes...'
Perhaps I was seeking to find closure in some items, or to find some conclusion. Or to find some answers.
Perhaps, it's time to close a chapter and move on.
Perhaps, it's more of being able to let go.
Perhaps, it's time for the long day to close...
14:03; The Pianist'
Sunday, 15 July 2012
皮包人生。
踏进电梯，手握着皮包和钥匙。低头一看，钥匙在不知不觉中留下了一道疤痕。哎，怎么搞的，皮包原来早已遍体鳞伤！怎么一直都没有发现呢？
也许是因为习惯了拿东西的方式。
亦或者是多次把皮包掉在地上。
每次的小鳞伤，累积了便成为遍体。
生命也不是如此？
也许是因为习惯了某种生活方式。
亦或者是多次不经意的受伤。
每次的小波折、小创伤；
每次的小波涛，累积了便成为汹涌。
也许是因为习惯了拿东西的方式。
亦或者是多次把皮包掉在地上。
每次的小鳞伤，累积了便成为遍体。
生命也不是如此？
也许是因为习惯了某种生活方式。
亦或者是多次不经意的受伤。
每次的小波折、小创伤；
每次的小波涛，累积了便成为汹涌。
Labels: chinese, exposition, writings
16:17; The Pianist'
Thursday, 12 July 2012
QT
best way to end the night:
诗篇 25:12 - 谁敬畏耶和华，耶和华必指示他当选择的道路。
诗篇 25:12 - 谁敬畏耶和华，耶和华必指示他当选择的道路。
02:08; The Pianist'
thePIANIST;
~ice dragon~
edmund
twenty one
phpps tchs hci nus
bmt-b sispec-g eti-ep
npcc choir
piano
edmund
twenty one
phpps tchs hci nus
bmt-b sispec-g eti-ep
npcc choir
piano
theLOVE;
violin
saxaphone
jazz
spiritual revival.renewal
books
lit
friends
love
saxaphone
jazz
spiritual revival.renewal
books
lit
friends
love
theWISH;
personalised room
keyboard
games
books
love
guitar lesson
jazz piano lesson
love
guitar lesson
jazz piano lesson
theCHATTERBOX;
theESCAPES;
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~`church
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iloveegg:) |
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Kenneth |
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Solomon Knights =) |
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Xuemin |
Yineng |
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ZhengYang |
~`others
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