Sunday, February 05, 2006
It being the 7th day of the Lunar New Year, it's "everybody's birthday".We went to lo hei at my cousin's place and had lots to eat, and luck is with me so far this year, made another killing playing blackjack. I had some Singapore Sling too, which gave me warm fuzzy feelings. I hate that everytime I drink I turn so fricking red when I'm not even drunk [it is an Asian affliction I say], but it tasted really good.
Right so I have hardly done any work today after waking up so late after staying up so late doing work, and the cycle repeats itself.
I am very hyper now, feel like a boingboing.
To write a poem is not painful, and yet after hours are spent on it, polishing and retouching, there is a certain touch of despair mingled with our other feelings that indicates the lack of perfect, undoubted satisfaction, a certain self-reproach because the lines do not carry the entire beauty of the sentiment.
-The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, Volume Two, Anaïs Nin
rachel at 12:20 AM