Hiatus

I hate computer viruses, I hate the geekoids who came up with them, I hate the idiot in me who clicked on the link without thinking, you'd think after god knows how long of sucessfully siaming all the spammers, trojans and assorted whatnots of the virus world I'd at least have suspected that something smelt like fish when I first read the email....bleah.

Anyways, a short work jaunt to Cebu later and here me are, blog blog blog.


Early morning, leaving on a jet plane


Shot this as I was about to get on the plane, it was a shitty rainy morning the day I left and the planes taking off left pretty impressive trails of water as they blasted off into the wild blue yonder. Pity I overexposed the shots, only so much PS can do to cover up a sucky photographer. Heh.


View from the hotel window, the buildings in Cebu rarely climb above 5 stories save for some hotels, commercial and government buildings. Income disparity is insane, a buffet lunch for two with drinks can equal the monthly take home pay of a housekeeper. I read somewhere the Philippines was the strongest economy in Asia at the time of it's independence, what the hell went wrong?
S$1 = 30 pesos approx.

Snippet of life

1. Listening to The Choir of Trinity College, Cambridge sing, what else, a choral version of Sam Barber's Adagio for Strings.

2. Counting to see if I have 200 S$1 coins in my teddybear bank. Daddy needs a new Crumpler to carry EJ's barang when we go gai gai.

3. Feeling melancholic in the aftermath of doing a piece of work analyzing a pair of Romantic poems about childhood and juxtaposing that with the feelings I have for 11-day-old EJ.

Thy rosy cheek so soft and warm;
Thy pinky hand and dimpled arm;
Thy silken locks that scantily peep,
With gold-tipped ends, where circles deep
Around thy neck in harmless grace
So soft and sleekly hold their place,
Might harder hearts with kindness fill,
And gain our right good will
- 'A Mother to her Waking Infant', Joanna Baillie (1762-1851)

Dear Baby, that sleepest cradled by my side,
Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm,
Fill up the interpersed vacancies
And momentary pauses of the thought!
My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart
With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,
- 'Frost at Midnight', Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)

This poetry shit rawks dood.

Dining in tonight in the company of good friends and, depending on what they "ta-baoing", hopefully good food was well. Confinement food for mummy though, nyah nyah.









Life is good.