lay back in the sun

Saturday

THE SUBTLE NUANCES OF THE LONELY RAINDROP

with all the photos parking their sad bottoms on this blog, you've almost had no taste at all of what's going with me- in words at least, but i'm sure whatever graphic that gets posted here tells a tasty story of its own as well. whatever it is, its been fifty and a half eons since i've last written anything substantial (and not that i have much to offer in the first place), and perhaps i feel the mild obligation to extend a humble written offering to all of you (left) who still bother dropping by here and parking your lazy bottoms on this silly little entity of what we know as the world wide web.

i'm glad the video (for church that is) is over and its been a smashing pleasure putting it together with the yuenster (himself the three hit-combo embodiment of patience, helter-skelter and pure genius) and having a teribly understanding uncle rich (hesitant at times but such a warm personality). had such a packed week that i hardly had time to take a breather- had originally planned wednesday to be the day to myself (it's called daniel day, according to lao pok) but it never materialized but am looking forward to one in the near future. need time to just slow down, and be alone.

it actually feels very good to be writing again. i've always enjoyed penning anything, but never ever had the drive to put anything down (on paper or text), nor the discipline to keep any form of writing going on even a semi-regular basis. however so, it still remains an immense joy to write, and right now, its therepeutic effects begin setting in (perhaps its also the pleasant post-rain weather and the even-more-pleasant miles davis whispering in my ear) and i really don't feel like stopping. i should do this more, but somehow its all more for me than for any of you, i suspect. is that selfish, or purely natural?

before i spin off tangent (not as if we were heading anywhere concrete to start with) i'd better cease my chatter lest the joys of writing transmorgrifies itself to the stale sulks (that bear many weights and burdens) of typing away like a silly secretary. thanks for listening. thanks for bothering.