Cirque du Soleil's Varekai

Today I'm finally doing what I've been wanting to do since I set foot on Melbourne: theater-going. Not the big, silver screen kind that goes along with giant popcorns that cost fifteen bucks and taste like paper. Live performances is what I mean. On this occasion, I'm going to watch Varekai, one of Cirque du Soleil's mystical performances.

I've seen the ads on TV and only barely know the storyline's about a young man's fall into a deep forest somewhere near a volcano, and his subsequent rebirth. Since it's a Cirque production, I'm expecting a lot of jaw-dropping stunts, though not as much in storyline. But I hope my expectations will be surpassed. The ticket cost me a fortune, but I believe would be worth the spend. Hoping this is the first of many interesting cultural events to come.

Te quiero

Received a letter from Maycol yesterday. He's in second grade now and is doing well, he said. And he's grown up a lot since his last photo, but looks just as adorable. He also said "te quiero" and, as always, sent me a huge hug. This kid will do well with girls some day.

Poemsville

A repository of what I've written over five years...

POEMSVILLE

"Wait Another Day"

Wait another day,
Your heart can bear the weight;
Wait another lonely day,
You don’t have to mark the date
Of your love departing,
Days in the sun are returning -
They miss you just as much,
And the way sand and skin touch.


Wait another day,
There’s no need to cry;
Wait another rainy day,
You’ll soon hang your tears out to dry,
And your Gene Kelly shoes
Will bring back those steps you loosed
On that fateful day by the Seine -
If ever there’s more to give, you can.


But don’t wait another moment
To break free from the torment
That imprisons your smiles -
People queue up for them for miles;
Don’t wait another minute
To live again, if you mean it,
But then waiting really is a virtue -
Why, it leads me to you!

"Are You Just A Face"

Are you just a face
that beseeched my desires?—
they were aching to find
a land among empires
where milk and honey flow
through souls wearied and hollow


Or are you something more
than the face I adore?—
holding out a wavering beacon
high up in your abandoned fort
when no homing ship can be sighted
out in the darkening port


My yearnings grew muscles
when I saw you by the ray;
I meant to seize the castle,
but why did I wait another day?—
until my strength was spent
before any could be lent!


Can a fair and beckoning lady
give a man his might—
or does his strength come
from elsewhere,
teaching him how to fight?
This much I know is true:
The tower must fall for you.

That face

Allow me to exercise my chauvinistic criticism as I recount an observation made of the opposite sex. I've seen enough women to have yet met before today an equal in both beauty and grace. Almost all young women in Melbourne have a composure and manner of speech that could use some—some a lot more—ripening. It might be the water they drink from the community well, but you could recognize most Melburnian girls by their signature high-pitched tones and the word "like" littered all over their short and trawling sentences.

But finally a woman befitting the title! The woman in the suit store (let's call her Stella) was relatively formal under the circumstances and yet the soft texture of her voice immediately distinguished her in a crowd. Stella's face was a warm rendition of Athena's sculpture inevitably caught in the epitome of feminine allure. It was as if time had stopped on her face since eternal past, while the radiance of her smile confirmed the rumors of angelic visitation. If I had the courage I would have brought to her attention the fact that she has a face that inspires songs.

She didn't know, but Stella brought songs into my head and birds and bees to boost.

Pre-launching my other blog

So far it's only the first sketch of an escape plan and much detail has yet to be filled in. But in all its unripeness I give you...

WRITING IN PARIS