h1

vain bubble’s shadow

September 4, 2005

I can’t live like this anymore, imagining in my heart of hearts that the next one-night-stand (oh what a sleazy term for something so miraculous!) will be the life-changing encounter, the soul-magnifying moment, that second of eternity when everything is, and is not. The last time I consigned myself something like this I refused to step out of the house for a week: where will this take me? In three weeks he shall be back in Singapore and leaving again for the UK, with all its attendant freedoms, hedonisms, high taxes. What do I make of it, what can I make of it? And so here I am in my room gorging on jazz and wishing that lyrics could be less relevant and feeling upset that my tragedy is not unique, but everyday and commonplace.

Look at me
I’m as misty as a kitten up a tree
And I feel like I’m clinging to a cloud
I can’t understand
I get misty just holding your hand.

Walk my way
And a thousand violins begin to play
Or it might be the sound of your hello
That music I hear
I get misty whenever you’re near.

Can’t you see that you’re leading me on
And it’s just what I want you to do
Don’t you notice how hopelessly I’m lost
That’s why I’m following you.

On my own
As I wander through this wonderland alone
Never knowing my right foot from my left
My hat from my glove
I’m too misty and too much in love.

Listening to Ella enchant with her hopeless supplication is driving me to the brink of insanity.

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