Monday, December 24, 2007

Fitting In

Where do you fit in?
When you find yourself out of rhythm and rhyme with the poets,
when you can't walk the walk and talk the talk with actors,
and your entry and exit seemed staged when you are with playwrights.
When you can't find your tune with the songwriters,
and when you lose your voice among the singers.
When you can't wrap it up with the filmmakers,
or see the big picture with screenwriters,
where will you go, where will you go?
Would you rather experience the surreal with addicts and abusers?
or would you rather keep the idiot box company?
Pursue your career like a loyal dog,
or bossing everyone around as if you're God?
Will you rally with activists to make a stand
or will you join in the crowd for the sales when the year ends?
What are you doing? What are you doing?
You can save the whales, the sea lions and the environment
but can you save yourself from the corrupted dystopian government?
Where do you fit in, in the scheme of things?
Do you sit back and relax and make wishes in your dreams?

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

The Rarest Find

It's as good as any when you have none,
or you can be grateful even with just one.
Praying to the stars and heavens above,
will not make any difference if you don't know love.

Monday, December 10, 2007

O' Grandma

I dreamt of my grandmother on Thursday night (Friday morning) but in a very frightful manner. She has been dead for four years and I dreamt that she didn't realize that and was gliding from one room to another. Although she didn't seem horrifying in any way the fear it evoked was very real.

These dreams make me wonder why I am dreaming of the dead, just like the recent one about Peter coming back to say goodbye. What messages do they hold? Or could it be just another stray thought or an unconscious repression that surfaced as a distorted imagination?

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Harrumph!

I was in the train yesterday and I saw a group of people protesting outside a bank, stating in the placard that the bank devoured their bonus. This must be the forth demonstration I have heard or seen or indirectly connected to it. At the same time I watched a documentary about Rwanda: Do scars ever fade? It's a heart wrenching documentary about the genocide of Tutsis and moderate Hutu sympathizers which estimates about 800 000 to 1,000,000 deaths. Although it occurred in 1994 the question remains about the emotional scar that still lingers among the people.

Demands, wishes, desires and cravings have caused more than enough unhappiness in the world today. Where are we going with it as the world shrinks with over population, natural catastrophes, war, discrimination and persecution? Are there scars too deep to heal and has to be reopened to check and see if they are healing?

Perhaps the first book anyone should consider reading is The New Revelations by Neale Donald Walsch. You think it might help?

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

It's so quiet you'd think everything's okay

I imagine my life with two wishes and a dream.
One wish is for placidity, tranquility, serenity to call my own.
One wish is to share this peace with those who want it.
And the dream is do everything I can to make them come true.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

He came back ... to say goodbye

I was busy with something on ground level when he walked past. I snatch a quick glance and saw how handsome he looked when he paced to the other car which was out of my view. I said, "I thought you were dead. Someone told me you were but he must have got it wrong. You look really good." He didn't respond to my insensitive burst of joy to see him so I hurriedly cleared up what I was doing and stood up to run to him to share the lost times.

When I saw him coming up in a 4WD I waved to him and all he did was to wave back through a closed window. He pointed to the direction he was going and he didn't wait for me to
join him.

After he left I felt so sorry we didn't have the time to catch up and then I woke up remembering that he really is gone.

He is the third person who has come back to say goodbye...

(The last I blogged about him was April 7th, the day I heard he went away without saying goodbye)

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Home At Last

It rained everyday. I haven't had this experience for a long time. It either drizzled all the time or poured heavily one moment, then its gone again and come back to repeat the sequence. This was how it was in Taiping when I was home for 10 days.

The lake was magnificent, the fauna and flora flourished with the freshness and clean air doused by rainfall. Just looking at the trees and animal life is enough to make me want to go back and being a kid and relive the times when I knew nothing about life except to pass the day climbing a tree, digging for insects and submerging myself in the cold frigid water from the hills.

It was a regenerative moment for me when I spent time with mom and dad in our serene neighborhood with a picturesque view of Maxwell Hill. I felt young again, like I was back in the seventies but everyone I knew did not live there anymore. They were everywhere but there. It was so perfect to me I wished everyone I loved was beside me and living in this paradise that I would like to call home.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Earthwatch

I watched the bulldozer digging up earth from a distance and wondered how fast it was for them to flatten a hill than it took for it to get so high. What was once a desolate place for nature to proliferate, it is now an over developed, over populated and gridlocked housing estate with roads that are too narrow and too few. But nothing and no one is interfering with the progress of assaulting and ravaging this side of the world I live in.

People's voices are not heard and money rules the heart of the hungry. In time to come everything will be devastated. Those who try so hard to make it known are exhausted and those who are getting a cut of the pie couldn't be anymore unenlightened.

What will my words do for the depleting planet which I would very much like to call home?

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

I wonder

I was having dinner at a restaurant the other evening and I saw people walking up and down as though they were fish looking through the glass window.

I wondered where they were going and what they were doing besides shopping, hanging out, dating, looking for places to eat and strolling aimlessly.

I felt wrong to be in that particular restaurant because it didn't seem like a good place to spend some time, although it was just eating.

When in a glass bowl, who is actually looking in and who is actually looking out?

Monday, October 1, 2007

Rant

Celebrate your love with your energy or go without the power souce

Friday, September 28, 2007

Unexpectedly Him

It's not the same when you look at someone and you don't see love.
It's not the same when you feel his touch but nothing moves your heart.
It's not the same when you hear him call your name yet everything stays the same.
It's not the same when you get a whiff of him only to know it's just a flyby whim.
It's only when you kiss him on the lips that moves your heaven and your earth
that you'll know it's really him.
The one you have a connection with, the one you would love and sacrifice
and the one who steals into your dream.

Monday, September 24, 2007

The man with the traveling voice

There was a man who spoke with echoes
but he did not seem to mind.
When you hear him,
his voice reverberates and resonates
from one end of the world to another.
You think you are going crazy
you think you are mad,
but you hear him only when
you know you've been really bad.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Fire

The head is like a ball of fire,
burning with aching needs.
The eyes all glow with dire
thoughts of wayward deeds.
The tongue slithers out with desire
hungering as it feeds,
I shall be your answer
you shall be my sleep.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Home, Go Home

He's coming home.
He's coming back.
But I have no home.
I have only a shack.
Where will I go?
Where will I live?
What do I do
in moments like these?
Go back to where you belong,
go home and stay home.
It could be a house,
it could be a storage,
but you have to go back
and sort your baggage.
He's coming home.
He's coming back.
I am happy
and I am sad.
For I have no home to go to
I have no place to find.
It's not the building
or the trimming.
It's the home,
the home
that I'm going back to.

Tomorrow's Dance

I promised myself tomorrow's dance
when I find the right man,
but today I missed that chance
when I could have danced with friends.

I promised myself tomorrow's dance
when I find the time,
but today I missed that chance
when the moment could have been mine.

I promised myself tomorrow's dance
when I have the space,
but today I missed that chance
when I could have come out of my daze.

I promised myself tomorrow's dance
when I can find a reason,
but today I missed that chance
when I could have enjoyed all the seasons.

I promised myself tomorrow's dance
when I hear the laughter I long for,
but today I missed that chance
when I could have start by opening the door.

I promised myself tomorrow's dance
when I see the sun shine through,
but today I missed that chance
when I could have dance in the rainfall too.

I shan't promise myself tomorrow's dance
and wait till I turn blue,
so today I will not miss that chance
I'll start dancing with you.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

To be spontaneous, my friend, is an act of faith

I used to think that everything done spontaneously was the best deal to bargain for. No plans, no worries, no upsets. Back when I was younger, still at the spark of life's beginning, me and a bunch of friends would mingle and make last minute decisions for the things we want to do without the hassle of being adult about it. I thought that was amazing the way we did what we did on a whim. Like spending nights in one another's homes, traveling out of the city to places we could afford, watching the stars and boats at the jetty and doing whatever else our hearts and minds fancied. This went on for a while in the three years we were together since we were bound by college life. But as everything in the turning of the wheel goes our adventurous escapades didn't last. Upon completing the course, we set out to search our own destinies and inevitable contract for adulthood. We met occasionally in our new environment and we missed the good old times when there was not a care in the world. We tried again to relive those days but they were never the same again. Although at one point when all of us had our lives altered by our own partners, the dry season of our friendship prolonged for quite a fair bit of time. We thought it was all vanishing like how acquaintances usually do. Of all our gang of friends who used to do the crazies and on the spur, only three of us kept very closely in touch. But only two of us would finally meet up and still try our hand at being impromptu, but with a little more responsibility attached to it. It wasn't the same as before where we whiled our time away wondering about the big secret of life. Now we are part of the secret and trying to make it real to us. Somehow we realized that there was no point in getting back to where and what we used to be. It was the 'now' that was important and how we changed with time and age that makes it even more relevant because the fact remains that we are still friends. It's been twenty years that we have known each other and when we meet we still wonder how all those time just flew by. Although we are committed by choice or obligation at this time, when we meet up we are back to our college days of rain watching and adventure seeking. And the spontaneity is not of what we do but what we feel being together.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

My Time

Today I sigh with that breath of mine.
I had so much to eat and yet I have none.
I am tired and sleepy
and my eyes are heavy,
for sleep, for fresh air,
for a need, for a purpose.
It's so quiet and the noises are muffled,
but I could still hear the crying children.
Is there a warm bed in the house?
I'm not sure but everything is feeling hot
and restless, looking for answers.
I don't want to close my eyes and go to sleep
I don't want to rest until I can dance to the beat,
but I cannot party while I'm like this.
When I think about looking out the window
to the evening skies,
and day dreaming under the tree
with my crooked smile.
I know it's been too long
and it's been a while
I have snuggled with the pillows
and cowering under the blanket.
It's time to wake up, get up and step up,
before I can take another bow.
I welcome the sunshine and all the light
even in the darkness where I cannot see.
I shall complete the mandalas
that I once started
and go to the finish line
that I have already crafted.
I sigh again with a hopeful respire,
this is the time,
this is the beginning
of all my desires.

Monday, June 25, 2007

This guy...

I dream of him regularly,
I see someone who looks like him everywhere.
His name is mentioned by strangers,
or appears on a website,
a movie or in a book.
What does he want from me?
Am I in love with him?
I don't think so,
but the thought of him
being with me is quite
fanciful and fun.
I try to erase his image and presence
out of my library of memories
but he never goes away.
Even if I succeed for a while
he comes back again.
He weaves himself through the network of my life
and reminds me all over again.
I can't get by a day without a glimpse
of his face or laughter or touch.
Tell me,
am I paranoid
or am I insane?
Am I smitten
or am I desperate?
Who's he?
This guy won't leave me alone.
Why has he got such a hold on me?
I can feel his energy drawing me to him
and I don't know how it will go from here.
I wonder if he knows what he is doing to me.
I wonder if this guy knows.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

The waiter by the doorway

He stands against the wall at the entrance when no customers are in need of his services. He stares into space, longing for things he never had and thinking of everyone back home where life is slow and quiet. He misses that. He never thought he would be waiting tables in a foreign country. Back home he did everything he could to make it through the day. It wasn't much but it was a living. Selling knick-knacks by the roadside to tourists, helping at the family farm, working at sites that needed on the spot workers, he was all of them. He wondered, just like young men his age wondered what was far and beyond the mountains and across the ocean to taste the life of another world.

One day that chance came. A tourist asked him if he would like to work in a restaurant. He was thrilled and nervous to make a decision. He has never been out of his country and this would mean giving up all the comfort of his family and home. Before he knew what he wanted to do, his bags were all packed and ready to leave. In an instant he was flying over the land he knew so well and then the next he was stepping on new grounds with the sweet scent of mystery. As soon as he got off the plane, his new employer ferried him to his work place and was to start as soon as the next day. It was exciting and adventurous working in a restaurant nestled in some upper middle class area and meeting new people.

His eight to ten routine that goes on for six days a week became exhausting and wearisome after six months. He has seen his customers with big cars from big houses that talk about business that runs into millions. He sometimes envies them and sometimes admires them. Every now and then when the crowd was low, he would stand by the doorway and look out into space and think of the mountains, the trees and his family. They were poor by any standards but they were together. Before he could think any further a customer would call him to serve and then his life would roll on for another day until at which time when there was no one to interfere again with his reverie.

Monday, June 11, 2007

In The Name Of Anger

In the name of anger, I swear to God I'll kill.
In the name of anger, I will wipe out all nations, I will!
In the name of anger I can do anything I want.
In the name of anger I'll trash everyone for fun.
In the name of anger all men are not equal.
In the name of anger I am always greater.
In the name of anger you are all nothing but...
In the name of anger my voice is louder because I shout.
In the name of anger who are you to say anything?
In the name of anger who are you to tell me what to do?
In the name of anger I don't know what's the plan.
In the name of anger I shall die without a friend.

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Baby, join the army

You march on solid ground
you terrorize the town.
You carry your weapons
you bury the dead.
Sons and daughters
of tomorrow's frown,
I dare you to take on
and join the army parade.
You sing their anthem
you shout out their name,
you get a medal
for dodging bombs.
You stand up tall
you wreck some skulls,
you cry not a tear
when you puke out your gall.
The honor is great,
the joy is greater,
to be patriotic
to be egocentric.
Let's go to war
and fight all evil,
slay down the ugly boars,
kill all the people.
You're in the army baby,
you're serving the nation,
you're a baby in arms,
you, you're that person.

Saturday, June 2, 2007

The sun that hurt my eyes

I came away crying from the hot blazing sun that hurt my eyes when I looked ahead and suddenly realized all things must come to a close ... before anything can be reopened.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Shits to you

Mind you,
it's bullshit if you step on it,
it's dog shit if you squash it,
and it's cat shit if you smell it.

Remember when you go swimming
in the river and the streams,
that's where fish shit in it.
And the oh-my-goodness public toilets,
need I remind you who did that?
Yes I do, that's human shit for you.

When you don't go F**K,
you'll go SHIT!
Either way, it means the same.
It can be an oh-shit day
and someone can be real shit to you.
If nature is against you
you may even shit in your pants,
or God forbid that you'll be shitting bricks.
And if your day goes all wrong
then you'll know that shit happens!
But if you want to go all Frenchy
just tilt your head and whisper c'est la vie.

If you're a toad under a rock
you might see some weird ass shit,
but if you like what you see
it'll be some real cool shit.

Some people believe that life is shit,
and go around telling everyone else
they don't need this shit
and accuse the others of being horse shit.
It's because they are so full of fear
that makes them chicken shit
but the truth is,
they want to get out
of the shit hole
they shat themselves in.

Has anyone ever told you you're full of shit?
Or perhaps they mentioned something to the effect
that you are a real piece of shit.
If you're ever in doubt about it,
you could always turn around and scream back
- I don't give a shit!

It's how we perceive a shitty day
that makes it all worth while,
once we can get our shit together
our lives will be filled with shitty smiles.
People only get into deep shit if they allow it,
that's when the shit hits the fan,
but if you walk on by and go about your shit
then you'll know the shit you get is all your own.
At least you can will truly know
that you don't have shit for brains.
And after all these madness and confusion
it is only in death that we will see
what can be only described as 'holy shit'!
And when we realize that our entire existence
is based on human assumptions of making up
stories as we go along,
if you don't already know it,
well in the end
everything's a major crock of shit.
So whatever, whatever, whatever.
One things' for sure,
it feels so good to do it
doesn't it?

Sunday, May 13, 2007

my own

When he walked out,
he left a trail of blue green dust
that drifted recklessly
like a dying wind in a cold room,
or static that hangs on
to the ends of the hair.
I was nonplussed,
I was indifferent
and stupefied
to have what I wanted
but to lose what I gave up.
I couldn't understand
why I bewilder myself
with such angst
trying to straighten the lines
that were crooked
and bending the lines that
were straight.
He was suddenly gone.
I could now hear
every distinct sound
buzzing round my head.
I could feel the breath
of warmness that seeps
from underneath the floor.
I felt the hunger
in my stomach
and I realized I was
indeed yearning to devour
or pleasantly nibble
at the edges of time
and not grind my teeth
in the middle of the night.
I could, I suppose
ask for more
but the truth is,
I don't want anymore.
I shall walk to the arid desert barefooted
and swim with the barracudas barenaked.
After all, I am my own moment,
I am my own noise.

Sunday, April 29, 2007

Worth

In honor of love & everything
I walk upon the surface of my earth.
With tip toes & light treads of a dream
tell me how much I am worth?

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Red is my Color

The red of my eyes
are yours for keeps,
the red of my heart
is where blood seeps.
The red of my sorrow
is meant to weep,
red is all I am
when I can't get to sleep.
The song of my soul
is yours to sing,
the art of my mind
runs deep within,
the dance of my body
has always been
wearing red shoes
in my miscellaneous dreams.
The rebel that I am
is for a good cause,
the war that I create
is not for loss,
My retaliation is
against corrupted force,
but red I see, red I taste,
and red I touch in a mono pause.

Monday, April 9, 2007

When I Die...

When I die I want to die for a good cause.
I don't want to be in bed writing with pain,
crying out to God or the doctors to take it all away.
I want to be able to fight to my very last breath
and smile about how great it all was.
I want to fight my own battle to the very end.
I don' even want to think about what I will do
when I become incapable because I will not succumb to it.
I want to die a good old age when I am good and ready,
not when I am tired and sick.
I believe being sick is a state of mind like everything else,
I don't have to be if I don't want to be.
There will be no such thing as loneliness because
I will always be by the side of the ones I love
and share with them what I have accumulated all my life.
There is always enough to go round
and even for the second, third
and forth time if it is needed.
Everyday will be my last
and everyday will be my first in everything I do.
I want to be curious like a child
and yet I want to be wise with experience
so that I can appreciate everything that comes my way.
Most of all I want to laugh because I can.
Because there is humor in everything we do,
the seriousness is only a show to icing
the lopsided cake that we all are.
My heart will also be with the animals
that are meant to be free, and nature that is forever.
They are the real meaning of life without judgment,
without prejudice, without discrimination.
But if fate would have me bed ridden for whatever reasons,
I will take it as it comes because there must be
some universal unseen reason for that to happen.
But believe me, I will not go down without a fight
for there's always a better reason than just to die.

Saturday, April 7, 2007

Fly away Peter

My friend died of a heart attack the other day and he is younger than me by a few years. We were close once but that was a long time ago, when we were kids. After leaving my small provincial town, we lost touch for a while, got back to updating each other on our lives and then we went our separate ways again.

Friends like these are the ones that make me wonder if we were friends after all. As kids, we always had fun doing crazy things and imagining the ridiculous and the incredible. We talked about worlds beyond, school scandals and what we aspire to be. The thing that we least talked about was ourselves. We never ventured into that territory for the simple fact that we were afraid of being exposed of who we really are. I don't know why it was that way with us but could it be the way we were brought up? Or laid-back towns like ours doesn't approve of openly talking about our fears? If I had that chance to have a heart to heart talk, I would never leave any details out about myself now, but that's a little too late. He never really knew me and I him, and he doesn't know my aspirations are coming true and my dreams have been realized.

I thought about him every once in a while during our hiatus from one another, but the drive to reconnect was never there. It always came down to 'maybe someday', 'I wonder what he's up to' and 'we used to have so much fun talking nonsense', but there was never a follow up. And that was that.

For the past week, I was feeling a little restless and uneasy. I get this way when I feel something not quite right somewhere with someone close. Just two days ago I got a call from another friend who knew him as much as I did. When he said he had some news, I knew right then that it was Peter. I didn't go hysterical with an emotional breakdown because I lost that when we drifted apart. It seems he suffered a heart attack at the airport and collapse. And that was the end of his life story.

I don't really miss him, and yet I could use a little reunion just to say hi and look at how we've changed, but that's something I cannot do now. I have so many other friends who are closer to me than he ever was, and that makes me ponder on what I should do to let them know I love them.

But as I sit down and recall his deep baritone voice laughing at the things that we find hilarious, I guess I really do miss him now. Peter wherever you are, I've always loved you.

Thursday, April 5, 2007

What music will you play?

Will you love a man
who plays you like a violin,
a cello or a fiddle?
Or will you let him
beat you like a drum?
Would you prefer
to be caressed like a piano
or strummed like a guitar?
Manipulated like a flute
or blown like a tuba?
Will his touch make music
with your soul?
Or will it stop
at the rhythm of your body?
How do you want him to play you?
Or do you want to be played at all?
Does his presence make you sing the blues,
or something smooth and jazzy?
Does he make you
want to be a dance number
or do you want to rock?
Is his being with you
a new age experience
or is it with ambient whispers
chilling out?
How will your man be
in the quiet of the night,
and cacophony of the day?
How will you be
to his gentleness,
weakness and tiredness
from the jarring noise?
What music will you play?

Sunday, April 1, 2007

Tis' my country

I want to belong to a country
that will take me for who I am
and allow me to grow on my own,
to make decisions of my own.
I want to be in this country
that protects the environment
and educates her subjects
to a level of competency
on the things they should know.
I want to uphold this country
and be proud of who she is
as she is proud of who I am.
This country that I love
will share with her people
all the truth there is to share
and believe in raising them
to higher grounds of magnificence
despite their ethnicity.
And in return,
I will be the best I can be
to my country.
I will devote my life
to make it a beautiful place to live in
and if necessary
I will pick up a weapon
to defend it from invaders of any form.
I will stand by her
in her moments of despair,
I will be a willing sacrifice
for her freedom.
Death will not keep me away.
I want to be a part of this country,
and I want this country to be a part of me,
but where, where shall I begin?

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

The spiderous woman

The spider is a unique creature
that reminds me of a woman's character.
She spins a solid web to snare,
to what she wants and what she cares.
The fodder that sticks
to her home and lair
are history once she gets her share.
Like the male that loses
his life to a black widow,
the man will do anything
to get into a woman's meadow.
The woman and the spider can spin a nifty web
to hold and store her closet with surprises,
she loves her life and children so dearly
and if a man do come along, he'll taste just fine and dandy.

Roll over

I am cruel,
I am mean.
I embrace my nightmares
and I love my dreams
I think God is a woman
and I know nothing is what it seems.
There are no coincidences
and there are reasons to believe.
Roll over and play dead
or have some tea and bread.
I hate to travel up
and down the road,
to get caught in the human inconsistency.
I'd rather go to a casual undisclosed place
and party spontaneously.
Hmm ... it would be so nice,
it would be so great.
I shall gobble down the cream
and I shall eat my cake.

Saturday, March 3, 2007

And time slips away

Come away, come away
I haven't been here
since yesterday until today.

The hours are long and dreary,
the seconds are short and snappy.

I dream of becoming and then I fall asleep,
my mind is racing and my body is weak.

I wake up with a headache,
I hear my bones shake,
My throat's parch and dry
I'm bewildered by the question 'why'

I know I'm been away, been away
and I miss it all that's garish and gay

But now I'm home, I'm home
in the arms of my own

I want to stay quiet and still
Make my fantasies funny and real

Before I lose my myself in the human race
I shall walk away with the sun in my face

Go away, go away you little impish nuisance
I will not go with you, not for any reason

I love the silliness, the adventurous, the wild
I love things that pull my heartstrings to make me smile

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Being bad

No one is born bad. They just get sidetracked and distracted along the way and become everything they are not meant to be.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

It's what you wanted

You chose this life.
No matter how difficult
it must seem now,
you must try to remember
why you chose this life.
Before time,
before you were even born,
you already knew
you chose this life
because you wanted
something out of it.
All you have to do is
to try and remember
why you chose it
and then go on with your life.
You will achieve nothing
and feel nothing
if you choose to forget.
Once you can overcome this fear,
you will be able to
understand the situation,
unravel the complexities,
endure unbearable pain,
realize your dream
and love beyond limitations
and you will be
among those who know.

Wednesday, January 3, 2007

The year that was...

It was the 31st of December 2006 when the bash went awry. Everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong right from the beginning. Bands and performers cancelled last minute, some were not punctual, a partner pulled out, the printing was delayed, promises to support were broken, disappointed and angry patrons walked out, missing the countdown and a whole lot of agitation shook the ground we stood on. To the minds and eyes of many, everything was a failure. The kind of failure to black mark a diary or journal or blog, but not for me.

Being the creature of observation that I am, I saw a different perspective between the mess and chaos. Friends who were not involved with the organization emerged to help in whatever ways they could. They stood on the steps and walkway to invite potential clients to walk into the Carnival for a great time to end the year. The party also lead Edwin and I to find the accessory shop that sold everything we wanted at a reasonable price, Rachel said it was the best time of her life for 2006, the magic of the night gave some of the Piccolo workers a wonderful night to remember, a couple of elderly men had a memorable experience which made them feel young again, friendships were bonded, true colors were illuminated and most of all love was shared.

The only thing that warranted the party a failure was the inability to make it profitable, otherwise the getting together was the best thing that could ever happen to anyone because that was the truest form of success.

To those who were there and to those who weren't there, someone gave us a chance to be a part of it. If it weren't for them, there would be no blog like this and a lot more. For Jas and Nikki, thank you for this terribly adventurous journey. The night is still young...