DIY Babe-Mobile

the air has been filled lately with the births and babies. a friend's upcoming delivery's due anytime soon and what better way to commemorate the occasion than a baby shower of sorts. Just the phrase "baby" warrants an oh-so-wholesome *goo goo.....gaa gaa....*outburst doesn't it.

Ever the task oriented ppl, the duties were delegated with clockwork efficiency. Being the unemployed bummer that i am, i decided to volunteer my "creative help" around considering ppl do have day jobs to be at. wandering our way around the streets of bugis in search of inspiration n materials for "deco", scratching our heads as to wth the latter constitutes, Nad and I had a "are u thinking what i'm thinking moment" after visiting one of the party stores there.

Armed with our newfound creative mojo, idealistic illusions that we were actually creative, courage to start thinking out of the box (quite a feat for one civil servant plus a former gahmen) and a budget of $30, we started scouring ABC-Value for money stores for tools and materials. So here is an atempt to create our version of a Baby Mobile (yes, Nad its not a Baby Chandelier, tho that sounds cute too).

Equipment/Materials need:

1. Your mum's clothes hanging pins thingy for drying clothes
2. Balloons of ur desired colors, embossed motifs
3. Nimble hands
4. Dad's fishing string or any nylon strings available at ur friendly neighbourhood store
5. Cutesy animal clips
6. Nimble Hands
7. Someone who's has the stomach to blow them balloons or can be substituted with anyone who naturally has loads of gas/flatulance
8. Backup: 1 kg flour
9. *cough* semangat *cough*

The start....blow ur balloons. Somehow, they turned out in a certain shape, wic we agred resembles the female anatomy. Apt huh for the baby, as he looks up from his cot.


Next is the tricky part....tying!!! thank god for Nad's nimble hands. The first one:

Disclaimer:

Balloons have a way of not retaining the air you invest into them. So when all gets deflated, raid your cabinets, for mum's trusty packet of flour.

Viola:

Maciam like jemput-jemput can! Love the cute animal-esque clips.

...u may not want to put us incharge of deco....lol.

Sheep in Fog

The hills step off into whiteness
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them

The train leaves a line of breath
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,

Hooves, dolorous bells
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,

A flower left out
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart

They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.


-plath-

Babies

Overheard:

L: So and so has given birth...
F: Wow...guess now having a baby is the in thing...Marriage is sooo last century
L: If marriage is soo last century, what is singlehood then......obsolete!?!? Great!

Eid Mubarak

Modern Age Infidelity

A decade ago we fossilized this union on top that little hill
Do you still remember them playing our song?
The husky baritone of Ms James declaring at last our arrival to the world
You would smile in a way I never saw before
Your bright eyes secretly gleaming that escaped their attention
Your less than successful attempt to hide the blushing
My hand on your waist, guiding our dance in embrace
Our tender kiss that levitated our souls to higher grounds
Consumed every cell in my body with conviction of this commitment

I remember how your face failed to veil the anxiety
You would readjust the onyx cuff links I gave you every 5 minutes
The ones I gave you on our special night before
Soon enough love, I’ll be there
I loved how you smelled that day
A mixture of assuredness, warmth and security
Your witty, charming self coupled with deep-set dimples I adored
I remember how you held me, how you kissed my neck
How there was no one else you needed but me

She would twirl the ends of her auburn hair sieving through mails with the careful touch of her stylus, the ubiquitous conduit to virtual connectivity
Every second or so nodding in agreement to his grunts, cocking her head to the left to ponder in the distance
Immaculate in her off-shoulder little black dress and blood red stilettos, does he notice that I’m wearing less each day?

He was literally buried to the handheld device, twitching of thumbs to catch the prize
A shadow of his prime, decked in an overused Man U jersey and FBT shorts
Unsightly strays of unkempt hairs overlooked in light of that PSP
Does she know I’m ashamed that I can’t give her what she needs?

They would sit shoulder to shoulder, the stillness to each other peppered with sporadic arm jibes and reluctant intimacy
Drowned by the cacophony of station announcements, world-weary commuters and the ending of a drawn out day


Its quarter past 10 and we’re not home yet.

Malaysia Boleh

Humour is a great Anesthesia

The realization sinks in gnawing unceremoniously from the core of the emptied
All this while hope-filled fibs and fantasy laden hallucinations veiled my worrisome mind from reality
Riding in your shadows, desperately hanging on to your coat-tails
They are long by the way, a never-ending stretch that I couldn’t get to the head of it, fiercely protesting my grip

Melodies have left leaving an untouched guitar hollow from the dearth of crafting
Instant uplifting riffs of “Here Comes the Sun” fail to inspire replication with the departure of the two
I know who is, was and will be, all at once a debilitating fear of vulnerability weaves its encumbered self into the symptomatic churning attacks
Stalemate of a prolonged fight resigned, that the stasis may never be achieved
It doesn’t matter for the flight is long and the destination may change, there’ll still be uncontrolled turbulence along the way
I’ll take it when it comes or never does…

That’s the way this wheel keeps turning now
You can’t love too much one part of
You can’t love too much one part of

Will

All winter, we got carried
Way over on the rooftops let's get married
All summer we just hurried
so come over, just be patient, and don't worry

No I don't wanna battle from beginning to end
I don't wanna cycle or recycle revenge
I don't wanna follow death and all of his friends