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BalckHoleSun
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Name: Heng Pho
Country: Malaysia
Birthday: 9/27/1980
Gender: Male
Interests: Backpacking, music, cd's, reading, guitar.
I love my girl. If only she loves me too.
Expertise: Nothing at all. Just surfing through life.
Occupation: Research and development
Industry: Engineering
Message: message me
ICQ:  18213999
Member Since:
9/10/2003
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I used to think: but I really crave for it, why is nothing
helping me at all? Why is it so cruel? Why do I feel so helpless? If only….If
only….If only….
After some troughs that I’ve surfed through, I have come to
realise that no one owes me anything. I do not have the inherent right to lay
claim to a certain thing, a certain emotion, or feeling. Me craving for it is
not a good enough reason for something to happen. If even the Han dynasty can
crumble, I’d be able to take a few disappointments. Such is life.
Today I feel rather unwell. I feel so melancholy that I am
having problem putting a smile together for my colleagues. I craved to go home.
I want to just sit in my room and listen to songs and write and hum along and
let my mind roam freely and see where it takes me. But I have made promises
about things that I have to produce. Responsibility dictates that I have to
forego my won cravings.
And so I labour on.
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| I would like to cook for the people that I care about. Every small step, every minute detail, meticulously and carefully executed. It makes no difference to the taste, but at least I’ve poured in my all. And I do hope that when she samples the food, it is not only the aroma that she’s inhaling, not only the taste that she’s analysing. It’s the warm intentions and care of preparation that counts. For although I am very passionate, I might be caught wanting where ability is concerned.
I can’t help but smile as I flip through the latest issue for Gourmet Traveller: Wine. I bought it wanting to read a bit about the better reds this year. To my surprise, it also includes pages upon pages of cooking recipe: Coq Au Vin, Oysters with Champaign Gratin, a good simple steak…My favourites, really. Dishes simply prepared with red wine as sauce or marinade, slowly grilled/stewed to perfection.
Now all that I need is someone whom will share my joy and enthusiasm. And maybe help out with the dishes at the end.
And in a night like this, a most quiet and elegant of a winter’s Friday night, it makes the craving to cook and pamper almost overbearing. But it is pointless to do a Coq Au Vin for myself. I guess I’ll settle with a bottle of red and catch the night view on the balcony. And hum softly to tunes formed at the spur of the moment, hoping that it reaches you, no matter where you are. And you’d derive comfort out of it. | | |
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In my dream things are uncomplicated. Winter nights are not
harshly cold and I’d still be taking short walks; out of the confinements, into
the unknown.
In those dreams we walk through to the end of winter, and
then we’ll share an ice cream.
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| I’m floating in the void after a few wines. Tolerance has gone down, yes. But that’s good. It’s healthy. I don’t want to be a drinking machine anymore. There’s something else that’s worth more than a bad set of liver.
It was my buddy’s birthday bash. It was great to actually see people around. It was great to be able to observe at people while munching on sincerely prepared food.
As life spirals towards the unknown, it was always great to be able to sip in the simple pleasures of life.
I am half drunk now and there’s this unbearable urge in me to just regurgitate out all my thoughts into a stream of consciousness.
I’ll only spill a little. I’m not supposed to leak anything at all.
There’s someone that I miss. Is she the sort that only blooms into your life for a few days a year? Unforgettable in her fleeting appearances. So natural and graceful in her dignified beauty that you are basked in a comfy warm glow.
Only when she’s gone did you realise that you cannot do without. That something is missing.
Like cherry blossom
This taste good…it is almost perfectly cooked. Why do I feel sad when I ate it?
Because of the sorrow my dear. It is there for everyone to taste. | | |
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