adventures in neverland

in between dating, haunting, bouts of insomnia, meeting friends over coffee or wine,  nursing a hang over with massage and two glasses of bloody mary at staunton, watching movies at ifc and pacific place, dvd hunting, updating my wardrobe and cruising in the river styx, i still find time to read books, i mean novels. chos! a lot.  i have never read this much for as long as i can remember. ah the price of being luvless..but i am not complaining. this goddess needs to feed her peanut-sized brain once in a while..hahaha. so far i have finished these (oh please, no bragging rights intended): (mr. hollinghurst never disappoints. his prose is poetry in disguise -- elegant just lyk most of his characters, lush, rich and delicious. it's lyk watching a merchant ivory film or a bbc classic on teevee. now i want to read again his previous books.) (i can totally relate to mr. orwell. my version would be, down and out in makati and malate.) (my third time to ...

it's raining outside. relentless, stubborn rain. i feel a tad sad. the rainy weather always brings out the dramah queen in me. i feel like crying for no reason at all. speaking of sadness, this poem (scroll down to read and weep) always makes me blue just like the beatles' norwegian wood. while i don't fully fathom it's meaning (i am not intelligent so i don't get all the metaphors and symbols hidden in each word), i could feel the poet's pain while putting words into his feelings. We make our meek adjustments, Contented with such random consolations As the wind deposits In slithered and too ample pockets. For we can still love the world, who find A famished kitten on the step, and know Recesses for it from the fury of the street, Or warm torn elbow coverts. We will sidestep, and to the final smirk Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us, Facing the dull sq...