Why a seamstress does not suffer burnout
I am watching mother at her wheel.
And listening to her; she likes to talk.
An electrical machine, neat and quick
Basic functions- terrific.
Bobbin filler, eleven stitches, sewing light switch!
Flat bed attachment, presser foot;
accessory compartment- let’s have our toys!
Now she’s whistling
The tune of Christmas costumes.
Here’s more sequins for the good three kings,
Let the white adorn our angel!
(more sequins, dear?)
Should Joseph have a vest, or not?
“So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum, When we come.”
Here she mumbles as she measures a piece.
Only one true standard that we will keep-
That it fits you, not you fit it.
Plus-size model, or scrawny boy?
Prosperous bosom; two-scarred legs;
This silk will dress you, you will see.
The only time I see her furrowed brows,
Is when “the stitch isn’t right- come see it here.”
Yet my plain young eyes don't see the fault.
She fiddles here, unpicks the mess.
Plums the fabric and strings the thread.
One more churning and it’s done.
She looks up flushed; tired, but it is done.
She is smiling as she holds it up-
The amazing garment is true to last.
As I finger it and twirl it round,
The seamstress packs up remaining thread.
Folding unused cotton back, and switches
The machine off, it’s time for bed.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
Sty Stallone
I am Sty Stallone and I am a terror/horror junkie. I'm not being pedantic when insisting there's a difference between the two but anyone who has taken a basic "Gothic" class would know that referring to them as the same thing may be seen as negligent or simply dismissive. It is probable that movie makers and writers know this and still they use them 'concurrently'- 'simultaneously', whatever. I don't know the difference. I mean, there's nothing wrong with using terror and horror together. In fact, looking at the technology these days, it would seem a terrible waste not to unite a heart- stopping gory female "pontianak" (Malay folklore's long-haired lady in white frock) with a mind-quickening chase scene. Combined with the sound quality to complement the beating of your own heart, it's all very admirable. About there. People have asked if I've tried writing my own scary story since taking "Gothic 227" and having watched theconsiderable assortment of horror films. But you don't require a film analyst to tell you that the protagonist has had a sad/wicked past to have retribution coming to her in a form of a weeping child in the toilet, or that weird and crazy things happen to people who have some form of obsession. Runners supernaturally losing their ability to run; the fingers of a pianist chopped off or the horror enthusiast experiencing the supernatural for himself. Also, unfortunate things can happen to good people if at the wrong place at the wrong time. Too bad. But well, I do admit that I have no better ideas, being ready to be a scary spoof than a creator of scary things themselves. So perhaps then I should stop whining about the lack of great ideas these days. But here I go again, rambling on and on. I am Sty Stallone, and I am a terror/horror junkie.
What's in the name you ask? I might ask if knowing that would help you know me better. In truth it’s more than a name that identifies you. For now I am a souvenir maker; Sty Stallone, the souvenir maker whose loyalty belongs to no country. I create a product design and South Africa or Disney World goes ahead to add their own logo or form the animal using my mould. Think the bobbing head koala or an oddly shaped kite promising to fly in a different manner. For distinctive items like the boomerang or various Chinese chopsticks, I have no say for obvious reasons. You must be rather shocked, thinking that Mickey Mouse doesn't need a mould? Mickey Mouse just is... Mickey. M. But ah...it's tricky business, these tourist industries. You can't know for sure what percentage of the ten dollars you’ve paid for your brown rice soap eventually pays the provider of palm oil (which is the obvious ingredient of the soap.) You did think it'd be brown rice, didn't you? Yes, a horror technique movie makers used in the past was the cutting up of body parts to form products. The soap then rolls out with swirls of red in it before being wrapped in nice rice paper and labeled Poivre Rose. It was intended to evoke feelings of grotesque and shock. But seeing it these days would be considered gimmicky. Now you see, that's the link between scary movies and souvenir shops. Experience doesn't teach you a thing because each time you walk into the theatre or attractive shop, you still look forward to being captured by a unique, never-experienced-before experience! And like many times before, you still walk out feeling empty or empty handed, not counting your empty bucket of pop corn.
Sometimes I wish I was Frankenstein's Monster. He had purpose in life. To be a real man and to be accepted in society. Oh yes, so did Pinocchio. But Pinocchio's a wooden boy whose stature amounts to a mere shove and HE, not you, falls down. Frankenstein is the epitome of brute strength. So here I am in my workshop, working alone. I hear a creaking sound and think that the character in the movie would think it's a ghost but I won't. You are begging me for a self description because you want to visualize this scene. You may even think that I am not human myself, the narrator/character surprisingly a ghost in a few films until it became not so surprising anymore. Sorry to disappoint you but I am fully human and do not have an inch of deformity or contain the slightest speck of supernatural in my 150 pound body. That's the most I'm going to give you, I promise. Now now... it's all very inquisitive, like before trying to associate my name with something you know. As though associating ME with something you know. When you watch a scary show do you attempt to associate the wispy cold air with something you know? Or perhaps you do know it. My laughing has been described by some to be a disjointed chuckle. Please hold on if you will.
The mosquito dismembered on my fore wrist is identifiable only by the splatter of blood around its slender carcass, blood which we consider not belonging to him/her/it. I feel as though a ceremony is in order. Solemnly I walk to the bathroom, casting downward glances only to hold it in memory; the water and dettol to bring what is left of it down the sink. But not everything can be ceremonial, only when the occasion calls for it. This time, it's only because you are watching. You do like some philosophy behind all tasks and subjects of the world because that's your way of reconciling discrepancies- yes! Even when it's so jarring- that's when you say that disharmony carries its own form of reasoning. But we were talking about me and my associates. How jarring I may appear to society, the same manner is the supernatural to the perceived natural. Let me tell you one last tale before I go back to my work. It is about one day at the cinema when I realized one very perplexing truth. As I sat in the darkness waiting for Poltergeist to make his entrance (of course, the gender is open to debate), the room became more filled until every single seat was taken up. And everyone shifted with the same eagerness; their eyes glazed and reflecting the same image on the screen. I was terribly unnerved and frightened. The supernatural has in fact taken the world by storm, and Sty Stallone- terror/horror junkie, is lost.
-----
I am Sty Stallone and I am a terror/horror junkie. I'm not being pedantic when insisting there's a difference between the two but anyone who has taken a basic "Gothic" class would know that referring to them as the same thing may be seen as negligent or simply dismissive. It is probable that movie makers and writers know this and still they use them 'concurrently'- 'simultaneously', whatever. I don't know the difference. I mean, there's nothing wrong with using terror and horror together. In fact, looking at the technology these days, it would seem a terrible waste not to unite a heart- stopping gory female "pontianak" (Malay folklore's long-haired lady in white frock) with a mind-quickening chase scene. Combined with the sound quality to complement the beating of your own heart, it's all very admirable. About there. People have asked if I've tried writing my own scary story since taking "Gothic 227" and having watched theconsiderable assortment of horror films. But you don't require a film analyst to tell you that the protagonist has had a sad/wicked past to have retribution coming to her in a form of a weeping child in the toilet, or that weird and crazy things happen to people who have some form of obsession. Runners supernaturally losing their ability to run; the fingers of a pianist chopped off or the horror enthusiast experiencing the supernatural for himself. Also, unfortunate things can happen to good people if at the wrong place at the wrong time. Too bad. But well, I do admit that I have no better ideas, being ready to be a scary spoof than a creator of scary things themselves. So perhaps then I should stop whining about the lack of great ideas these days. But here I go again, rambling on and on. I am Sty Stallone, and I am a terror/horror junkie.
What's in the name you ask? I might ask if knowing that would help you know me better. In truth it’s more than a name that identifies you. For now I am a souvenir maker; Sty Stallone, the souvenir maker whose loyalty belongs to no country. I create a product design and South Africa or Disney World goes ahead to add their own logo or form the animal using my mould. Think the bobbing head koala or an oddly shaped kite promising to fly in a different manner. For distinctive items like the boomerang or various Chinese chopsticks, I have no say for obvious reasons. You must be rather shocked, thinking that Mickey Mouse doesn't need a mould? Mickey Mouse just is... Mickey. M. But ah...it's tricky business, these tourist industries. You can't know for sure what percentage of the ten dollars you’ve paid for your brown rice soap eventually pays the provider of palm oil (which is the obvious ingredient of the soap.) You did think it'd be brown rice, didn't you? Yes, a horror technique movie makers used in the past was the cutting up of body parts to form products. The soap then rolls out with swirls of red in it before being wrapped in nice rice paper and labeled Poivre Rose. It was intended to evoke feelings of grotesque and shock. But seeing it these days would be considered gimmicky. Now you see, that's the link between scary movies and souvenir shops. Experience doesn't teach you a thing because each time you walk into the theatre or attractive shop, you still look forward to being captured by a unique, never-experienced-before experience! And like many times before, you still walk out feeling empty or empty handed, not counting your empty bucket of pop corn.
Sometimes I wish I was Frankenstein's Monster. He had purpose in life. To be a real man and to be accepted in society. Oh yes, so did Pinocchio. But Pinocchio's a wooden boy whose stature amounts to a mere shove and HE, not you, falls down. Frankenstein is the epitome of brute strength. So here I am in my workshop, working alone. I hear a creaking sound and think that the character in the movie would think it's a ghost but I won't. You are begging me for a self description because you want to visualize this scene. You may even think that I am not human myself, the narrator/character surprisingly a ghost in a few films until it became not so surprising anymore. Sorry to disappoint you but I am fully human and do not have an inch of deformity or contain the slightest speck of supernatural in my 150 pound body. That's the most I'm going to give you, I promise. Now now... it's all very inquisitive, like before trying to associate my name with something you know. As though associating ME with something you know. When you watch a scary show do you attempt to associate the wispy cold air with something you know? Or perhaps you do know it. My laughing has been described by some to be a disjointed chuckle. Please hold on if you will.
The mosquito dismembered on my fore wrist is identifiable only by the splatter of blood around its slender carcass, blood which we consider not belonging to him/her/it. I feel as though a ceremony is in order. Solemnly I walk to the bathroom, casting downward glances only to hold it in memory; the water and dettol to bring what is left of it down the sink. But not everything can be ceremonial, only when the occasion calls for it. This time, it's only because you are watching. You do like some philosophy behind all tasks and subjects of the world because that's your way of reconciling discrepancies- yes! Even when it's so jarring- that's when you say that disharmony carries its own form of reasoning. But we were talking about me and my associates. How jarring I may appear to society, the same manner is the supernatural to the perceived natural. Let me tell you one last tale before I go back to my work. It is about one day at the cinema when I realized one very perplexing truth. As I sat in the darkness waiting for Poltergeist to make his entrance (of course, the gender is open to debate), the room became more filled until every single seat was taken up. And everyone shifted with the same eagerness; their eyes glazed and reflecting the same image on the screen. I was terribly unnerved and frightened. The supernatural has in fact taken the world by storm, and Sty Stallone- terror/horror junkie, is lost.
-----
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