Saturday, September 23, 2006

In veno veritas

I'm such a geek - My post-prelims days are spent reading plays and novels non-stop. So far, I've finished 2 Ibsen plays, 2 Beckett Plays, 4 Harold Pinter Plays, re-read Long Day's Journey into Night, gave up on Hornby's Long Way Down because it's getting damned boring (but the Virginia Woolf joke was just classic) and finally, in the midst of finishing Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion.

As you can see, I'm practically ransacking Edmund Tyrone's bookshelf, but please don't take it as one of the unnatural symptoms of a mugger. Rather, I find myself when I read those decadent plays that's not only tinged but infected and plagued by pessimism, malaise and infinite sorrow of modern man; that's just like you and me. Plus it gives me orgasms.

Naturalists touch on topics I so enjoy, in particular Ibsen's obsession with 'truth in marriages' and man's over-idealized notion of romance and love. When I read his plays, I just go,

"YEAH MAN FUCKER YOU GOT IT ALL PINNED DOWN TO A T!"

And when I get high on music, I shout out to my maid,

"IT IS THE HOUR TO BE DRUNKEN SITI! BE DRUKEN, IF YOU WOULD NOT BE MARTYRED SLAVES OF TIME; BE DRUNKEN CONTINUALLY! WITH WINE, WITH POETRY, OR WITH VIRTUE, AS YOU WILL!!!!'

And make her reply (with vehemence),
"IN VENO VERITAS!!!!"

YEAH, TRUTH WE FIND IN WINE!

Anyhow, I was listening to U2'S 'Walk On' and its amazing how, through all these years, the intro riff still pierces my heart as it did the first time I heard it. And it makes me wonder, if the song pierces me (no phallic implications) because it softens me, or because I just let down my guard and you know, kinda like embrace the whole shit. And I can't help but remember this very nice but cliched line that goes,

"Artists paint on canvas; musicians on silence."

Woah, quite apt right.

posted@2:32 PM

|