Zewt's Tag

Tell 5 Jokes:
1. Bad spellers of the world, Untie!
2. Start a movement, eat a prune.
3. I want to be Bacchus - the God of wine and merrymaking. And sex.
4. God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts.
5. If you need time alone, try cleaning the house.

4 Fellas I Adore:
1.Today is Good Friday. Who is it about?
2. William Golding
3. Friends. Define Adore.
4. My dog. Does that count? Define Adore.

3 Animals that represent me:
1. The Snake. Supposedly cunning, slippery, and incidentally the year that I was born in.
2. The Phoenix. Alright, it probably doesn't represent me, but I like the beast.
3. Urm ... The Cat? Sheathed claws and cute furry flicks. Nice.

A for Andrew Ho, who is sitting next to me and complaining about the quality of writing in the IMPAC Dublin essay competition.
B for books, for I love them.
C for my real name, which I will not say.
D is for Dooce, the first Blogger to have been fired over her blog.
E for English, the sole subject I can hammer people with.
F for Freedom, and oft used term in speeches worldwide. *stop being so cynical*
G for g-string, because that isn't cynical.
H for Harry Potter, for he will die.
I for Indigo, a great book for kids.
J for jello, for I've only eaten it once.
K for kolo mee, only found in Kuching.
L for lenglui, because I've no idea what else to say for L.
M for Malaysia - Bolehland
N for Nigger, which Joker is spamming me with at the moment
O for Octopus, or Owlie - and you wouldn't understand this.
P for Pondan, an accepted and oft loved part of St Thomas
Q for Que Avis, a post I wrote a few months back.
R for reverse psychology - don't continue reading this post.
S for Shells, because it's the first thing that popped to mind.
T for Testosterone, ergo above.
U for Under The Bridge, for water past.
V for Vendetta - amazing movie.
W for Wendigo. I've no idea what it means.
X for Xerox, what Americans say when they mean 'fotostat'
Y for Yuck.
Z for Zewt - This is his tag.

I tag: Stephen Chow, Golden Globe, and Road Runner - the first 3 nouns to escape Andrew's mouth. No, they're not bloggers.

Two puppets for luck

I went to St Faith kindy two days ago. There was sunlight on tile, cold cement, but the warmth of a few hundred kids.

"Why is your hair purple?" One of them asked.

It was beautiful to see the kids colouring, talking, jumping up and down on the little coloured chairs at little coloured tables. I was like that once, I thought. Nothing mattered to me, nothing to worry about. The most I needed to think about was What colour should my sky be? I chose blue. Someone else - either Naomi or Cassy - coloured theirs pink.

Perhaps it is the sight of such a pink sky, over a field of pink flowers, that imprinted that everlasting repulsion for pink that I have; that I can't exactly explain.

There were no puppets that day. We wrote a rough script for our puppet show, to be held in the Children's Ward on Easter. At which hospital I'm not really sure. I am to be the Daddy puppet. A strange reversal of roles, I'm sure.

There are still wooden spoons. And there are still discipline chairs.

I sat on one of them, trying to remember how I felt, years back.

And you know what? I found that I can't really remember. We all hold on to our childhoods - the world wasn't so cynical once upon a time, because we weren't aware of it. How nice it would be to go back again.

There was sunlight on tile, cold cement, but the warmth of a few hundred kids. I left that day feeling strange, a fading reminder of how the world seemed to me at age 4.

It was beautiful.