Saturday, August 23, 2003

what a brilliant way to wake up on a saturday morning: i have to be up early in case the refrigerator people from Sears decide to show up at the crack of dawn IE 0730 on a saturday to inspect my fridge. the warranty is abt to expire, so the owner is getting the last gasp benefits if she can. anyway, so i stumble sleepily out of bed and wander over to my computer, where i talk briefly to gail and find myself pointed to this -- for those of you who know gail/ryan/chris, sorry for the double post, i couldn't resist:

"... Not that Chris enjoyed running six pointless laps around a track; he wasn't a masochist. What he enjoyed were the two opportunities to see Ryan's bare body. He'd watch, out of the corner of his eye, as Ryan unbuttoned and slipped out of his shirt (like a dancer in a sensual ballet), then pull on his tank-top (which was always one size too tight for him). never failing to muss up his hair in the process; then he'd remove his long pants (oh, those gorgeous legs) and hurriedly jump into his shorts (short shorts) which had grown way too small for him, but suited Christopher's taste just right, and the entire show would be replayed afterwards (on the VCR of the gods) but only in reverse... blessed torture! thy name is man!"

┬ęSim Yee Chiang, 2001

on top of this, i wander by cheetung's blog [congratulations, by the way] and find an absolutely hilarious exchange between one mr ryan tan and one mr lee minliang. -giggles- you guys, you've made my day. =)

has it been so long since One-Winged? wow. -grins- those were the days indeed. the meetings at yisheng's place -with the doggies! and the walk!- and the hilarity of reading the poems submitted, sometimes in KAP Macs with fries and nuggets and ketchup and BBQ sauce flying everywhere; leaving the room when my poems came up for review; putting together a final draft; proof-reading the draft in a monster of a ringbound piece of art. fighting over the title and moaning over the cover art -or lack thereof-; and then finally, at long last, seeing it in print.

the joy of seeing my name in print, even if it is in a local anthology of poems organised by an exceeding small and inexperienced group of JC students. =) wow.





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