Flight 1116 to Amsterdam

Flight 1116 to Amsterdam

Unpublished / unperformed
Written November 2010
by Jasmine Low

Where does it all go?

Memories, experiences, 

information a human like you or I

learnt, paid for, embraced 

for the duration of our lives

Where does it all go?

What a waste it is, I feel

That my passion for Escher's art

Appreciation of Jeff Buckley

A knowing of intimate No Black Tie gigs by Ady Suwardy

Or the beauty in curt prose spoken by Tshiung Han See

Would diminish the moment I depart

Thoughts must be retained, stored as energy

The greater the resistance, the greater the Inertia 

So it doesn’t crash through to the generations

Unless I sit them around me and tell the story

Where does it all go?

Thoughts.

White clouds.

Black rain.

Acid.

Soap down the tubular canals.

Into the deep blue sea.

Transformed to red.

Pollutants.

Fire up my dreams.

I write these unprocessed thoughts.

These raw ideas.

From above clouds.

On Flight 1116 to Amsterdam.

Do we all just die with such rich thoughts

Only to return as a better informed being?

- end - 

Shanghai, underground

Here's the UK Pavillion at the World Expo 2010, Shanghai. I entered without queuing hours as I was a participant at the Malaysia Pavillion. Just one simple idea, to carry through the entire country and their representation to the Chinese.

These seedlings were encased in acrylic rods that jutted out of the square central room. From the outset, it looked so phenomenal. Inside, you could then see how simple the idea was. Kudos to the curator. We get your message, Britain.

So it was 29 August when we arrived at the hotel. Me and an entourage of about 15 others indie singer songwriters and band members. The tour would bring us to music livehouses in Shanghai, as well as the main stage at the Malaysia Pavillion. How exciting!

More...

Living in a gated & guarded community

http://www.elvispresleymusic.com.au/pictures/1957_april_22.html

I guess it depends which side of the gate you're at. Are you on the IN- or OUT side the gate? And if it were Elvis guarding it, would we all be a whole lot happier? I wrote a piece of advert copy for a housing developer recently, and offered it swash-buckling words to bring together hope for a safe and loving environment. The truth is, WHAT are we guarding ourselves from besides other fellow humans.

Each day, I hear stories of friends with handbags on their passenger seat, only to be surprised and shocked out of their guts when a snatch thief smashes through the car window to steal the handbag. And we feel fear. And we lock our doors when we enter our metal commodes.

And we consider living and raising our children in gated communities because you NEVER KNOW what's out there. The horrors. The people who are so desperate. The snatch thieves.

I always thought I was invincible. Until I fell flat on my face, lost my own handbag and belongings to a snatch thief on a motorbike. The nerve of him! I would have run after him. I would have slapped him across his face. I would! Because he stole my belongings. Because he stole things from ME. Because he dared! The nerve of him! He dared to break my stance!

And that's what it's about. A perpetrator. A bully. A stronger human being. A more desperate individual with less value for his life. A poor sod. A psychopath. A crazy man. A hungry man. A greedy woman. A stealer. Stealer! You thief! You stealer! You copycat! You took the words right out of my mouth. You copied my copywriting! I wrote it last week! And it's appeared on your advert in this weekend's newspaper spread! You thief!

Freedom Girl Sculpture by Kirk Hogben

 Aren't we all?

Thieves of time.
Thieves of days.
Thieves of youth.
Thieves of silence.
Thieves, we are.
Take.
Here, take it.

I give to you.
My gates are open to you.
I let my guard down.
I let you in.
Unguarded.
Uncompromised.
It's called love.
It's called love.

Written Thursday, 14 July 2010 (C) Jasmine Low.