Friday, October 03, 2008
Glassy
My eyes gets glassy after a good amount of alcohol. I think around my third glass of whisky mixed with water I begin to feel the effects.
Glazed and slightly dazed by the travelling of alcohol in my blood stream, I love to muse quietly and look around my surroundings- the idle chitter chatter, sight for cosy lovers (which never fail to give me a sense of fuzziness) and all the activities that are spinning around me, rousing my senses of sight, sound and scent. I get into a “Lucy and the Sky of Diamonds” state- I hear the lyrics sometimes singing in my head intermingled with the sounds that my ears picked up but were quick lose its meaning, I find myself in an unfocused and languid state... The world suddenly appeared a tad rosy.
Earlier in the night last week, I had dinner with a male friend, Soci at this Japanese pub where we chatted idly over a tall bottle of plum wine. With one too a many glasses of Japanese plum wine, I unwittingly caught myself in the above state. Later on, the Old Boy came to join us. Soci's father is a good friend of the Old Boy and I got to know Soci through his father when I was asked to give him advice on Australian education. The Old Boy eased into a friendly conversation with Soci as soon as he arrived and sat himself next to me and the boys got into a discussion about video games. Boys will be boys, I thought quietly. The twenty-year age gap was bridged by the common interest of playing games.
My world was getting slightly hazy with the consumption of alcohol. Right before the Old Boy arrived, we had ordered yet another bottle of plum wine. I was getting a good buzz and my eyes were getting glassier by the minute. I found myself mesmerised with the Old Boy and the warm, fuzzy feeling of love overwhelming me once more. In my languid state, I tried hard at focusing my attention on him whilst he chatted away but I occasionally turned to eye Soci in order to behave socially courteous.
In that state, I found myself loving and being so giving of love and being in love all at the one go for the Old Boy. I watched him quietly as the boys chatted on animatedly and I wished he knew how much I love him-like he could feel that surge of energy and power of my love for him through sheer telepathy. In my glassy state, I could only think of love, not passion for him. Just love. Silently, I was hoping to take courage and slide my hand to interlock with his under the table and hold it tight like before- maybe my action would speak louder than my words for all that I have felt for him. I held myself back given the inappropriate social situation.
Glassy- I enjoy being in that state of slight tipsiness, my girlish eyes glazed with the innocence and hope my closeted hopeful self still holds for the world. This state of Dutch Couragedness heightens my love because at that moment, I feel safe to make bold at wearing rose tinted glasses. I indulge myself and let my emotions flow as they deem fit-I stop worrying or being paranoid at being short-changed and would have voluntarily lost my cynicism into outer space. It's a powerful feeling because my glassiness made me feel almost invincible to disappointment and inevitably pain. I have so much love to give when my eyes become glassy, my state of being fixated at giving love to him, him forming the axis for my emotions and love spinned ceaselessly at a million miles per hour around him. My glassy eyes are ever so fond of distilling the images they see especially of the Old Boy, only registering the rosy shades of the surroundings with him before projecting them inwards- I see and hear my manic soul drunk with love and carelessness...heck the aftermath, there's always another day to deal with pain...
My eyes gets glassy after a good amount of alcohol. I think around my third glass of whisky mixed with water I begin to feel the effects.
Glazed and slightly dazed by the travelling of alcohol in my blood stream, I love to muse quietly and look around my surroundings- the idle chitter chatter, sight for cosy lovers (which never fail to give me a sense of fuzziness) and all the activities that are spinning around me, rousing my senses of sight, sound and scent. I get into a “Lucy and the Sky of Diamonds” state- I hear the lyrics sometimes singing in my head intermingled with the sounds that my ears picked up but were quick lose its meaning, I find myself in an unfocused and languid state... The world suddenly appeared a tad rosy.
Earlier in the night last week, I had dinner with a male friend, Soci at this Japanese pub where we chatted idly over a tall bottle of plum wine. With one too a many glasses of Japanese plum wine, I unwittingly caught myself in the above state. Later on, the Old Boy came to join us. Soci's father is a good friend of the Old Boy and I got to know Soci through his father when I was asked to give him advice on Australian education. The Old Boy eased into a friendly conversation with Soci as soon as he arrived and sat himself next to me and the boys got into a discussion about video games. Boys will be boys, I thought quietly. The twenty-year age gap was bridged by the common interest of playing games.
My world was getting slightly hazy with the consumption of alcohol. Right before the Old Boy arrived, we had ordered yet another bottle of plum wine. I was getting a good buzz and my eyes were getting glassier by the minute. I found myself mesmerised with the Old Boy and the warm, fuzzy feeling of love overwhelming me once more. In my languid state, I tried hard at focusing my attention on him whilst he chatted away but I occasionally turned to eye Soci in order to behave socially courteous.
In that state, I found myself loving and being so giving of love and being in love all at the one go for the Old Boy. I watched him quietly as the boys chatted on animatedly and I wished he knew how much I love him-like he could feel that surge of energy and power of my love for him through sheer telepathy. In my glassy state, I could only think of love, not passion for him. Just love. Silently, I was hoping to take courage and slide my hand to interlock with his under the table and hold it tight like before- maybe my action would speak louder than my words for all that I have felt for him. I held myself back given the inappropriate social situation.
Glassy- I enjoy being in that state of slight tipsiness, my girlish eyes glazed with the innocence and hope my closeted hopeful self still holds for the world. This state of Dutch Couragedness heightens my love because at that moment, I feel safe to make bold at wearing rose tinted glasses. I indulge myself and let my emotions flow as they deem fit-I stop worrying or being paranoid at being short-changed and would have voluntarily lost my cynicism into outer space. It's a powerful feeling because my glassiness made me feel almost invincible to disappointment and inevitably pain. I have so much love to give when my eyes become glassy, my state of being fixated at giving love to him, him forming the axis for my emotions and love spinned ceaselessly at a million miles per hour around him. My glassy eyes are ever so fond of distilling the images they see especially of the Old Boy, only registering the rosy shades of the surroundings with him before projecting them inwards- I see and hear my manic soul drunk with love and carelessness...heck the aftermath, there's always another day to deal with pain...
