Disheveled Chic

Wendy and magic

2012-02-23T16:53:00.000+08:00

I fell in love with the old mansion in the series; with all its candelabras, mantel paintings, armored statues and animals. If given a different lifetime, I'd want to grow up in such a house with all its intrigues. It does lend a sorta dark magic to the unknowing.

Of course, a rock band playing in an empty swimming pool seemed cool, especially if your mystery man is the singer. Still, I would always think of Peter Pan as this kid who doesn't grow old.

11:11

2012-02-12T00:40:00.001+08:00

a whispered wish escape my lips

carried off and scattered by the four winds

to shake the ground I walk on

and wake the universe.

and the skies, the waves and earth will heave

to heed my call

and the stars will realign themselves

as they cry out in unison.

thus is my magic

thus I hold the world in my palm

thus is my destiny in crystal

thus spake me.

{image // baptisms }

Autumn Leaves

2012-01-14T01:42:00.001+08:00

Autumn leaves

I wish I am a magician

or a witch or a sorceress

so that I could wave a hand

and summer will give way to winter.

I wish to be like Sleeping Beauty

and when autumn comes

I will close my eyes and sleep

if only for a season.

I do not want to see autumn.

I do not want to watch how leaves fall,

how the wind rustles it

abandoned on the street

the way my world fell when you left.

But I am not a magician

or a witch or a sorceress.

And just how some things are certain,

autumn will always come.

{image via movie Parked}

just because...

2012-01-03T02:19:00.000+08:00

Atonement

...I cannot watch the film again without my heart breaking in silence, so I'll make myself content looking at this picture.

Among other things, there is something about Joe Wright and his films that draws me much closer to the characters.

a new year's musing

2012-01-03T01:54:00.000+08:00

I like leaning mirrors. The world gazing back at me, tilted, angled and seemingly like an other world, gives me perspective sometimes.

I, too, love stringed lights. They make this gritty world and everything else a bit magical before my eyes.

May this new year be full of new perspective and magic.

Mermaids beckon

2011-12-22T00:29:00.000+08:00

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,

There is nothing that can console me but my jolly sailor bold.

Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea.

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,

There is nothing that can console me but my jolly sailor bold.

- Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides

Forgiveness

2011-12-05T19:04:00.001+08:00

I am like a wilted flower

hanging on a clothesline

under the summer sky.

Dawn calls like a noontime bell

tolling in the nearby church;

elusive and unseen.

Clouds move like snails

while I look up waiting,

waiting to hear wonderful duet voices;

waiting to see sparks crackle before my eyes;

waiting for an absolution
that all the days weren't in vain.

Let forgiveness pour down

and engulf me

like a storm in the night that won't end.

With never one not upturned on its wake.

Sweep me off my feet!
Come and find me, please.

용서.

now playing: Song for Sienna by Brian Crain

{credit to Jamie Beck and Kevin Burg: 1 // 2 via msmuse}

We were Lucy, once

2011-11-15T22:10:00.001+08:00

I'm as quiet as a cup;

Quick!

- Lucy Harmon

Stealing Beauty

Becoming Jane

2011-11-10T22:43:00.001+08:00

Jane Eyre

I love period films. The window seat, letters, lace nightgowns all beckon to me.

Inspiration: Be Free

2011-10-26T22:48:00.001+08:00

I got in late in the Polyvore bandwagon and was totally excited making one. Although, rather than making a look per se, I was leaning on trying to make a virtual collage. Like I usually do when I make paper collage.

I am still enjoying putting things together freely.

A scrap of paper

2011-10-22T00:44:00.000+08:00

now playing, Asleep by States

"You are beautiful beyond description."

Fifteen years ago, a young boy handed me a piece of paper with these words written. Our then teacher had just asked us to pick out five classmates and to describe each of them. I wondered what went through his mind since I'm nowhere near perfect nor that beautiful. I remembered asking him if he was joking. That moment, though, just faded into the mysteries of time.

Now, I almost forgot the boy, but his words remained with me. I wonder if I still have that piece of small paper with his handwriting.

A Greeting from Far Away

2011-09-30T00:48:00.002+08:00

I'm sending a greeting to my childhood best friend who now lives far away, hoping someday we can meet again and travel to other places we've dreamed of and enroll in cooking class together.

Xine, let's dream about our Montreal.

Another world, another time

2011-09-08T14:36:00.000+08:00

The charm of masks, postcards, pearls, faux furs and Paris mementos draw me into the world of daydreams in the middle of the day. Perhaps the olden days always remain in my mind no matter how fast track the world is now. A world more subtle, more beautiful and more mysterious.

{Images: 1 // 2 // 3 }

Call me your Mashiara

2011-08-09T22:23:00.000+08:00

today

like any other day

i write you letters full of deep tenderness

that oozes out of my heart

like a doomed fire

burning everything on its path.

the words will burn themselves

and become ash blown by the wind

onto you, i fervently wish

like a drowning leaf that can't be saved

no matter how loud it screams.

only the lucid dreams are vivid

the planes of your face

and the way you look at me

floating beneath my lids

that lingers with me on this brittle day.

mashiara - a word from Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series which means "beloved of the heart, but a love lost".

{image: 1 }

portraits de nostalgie, five

2011-07-31T23:57:00.000+08:00

{Images: 1 // 2 // 3 }

Dim Hallways

2011-07-29T00:06:00.000+08:00

(A Rock Song)

We run like hell
in the dim hallways of your mind
from the black loneliness in your soul.
With you, we are one.

Your mouth tastes bitter.
Your rage makes you shiver
and be thirsty for blood.
Come, let us purge this foulness.

That halo of despair
above your head, which never leaves with the day,
pushes you to the brink.
But, too, pushes you to form their words.

Pain from your wounds bleed away
as if sucked by the first strums of guitar;
and all heavens broke loose
as your deafening cries resound.

{Image: 1 }

Sporadic mumblings

2011-07-02T15:51:00.002+08:00

Dappled sunshine rove over my skin,

upturned face lingering

of last night's wakefulness.

I wait by the stairs.

Brown leaves feel dry crushed under my fingers,

I stand so still and my face cold

from the west winds.

I wait by the stone balustrade.

Handmade Memories

2011-06-14T23:18:00.003+08:00

I love scrapbooks. It has a life of its own.

A page turned is like a trip down to memory lane or a captured moment with the ones we have loved, places we had been, and else more.

PS. I still want to steal Claire's travel scrapbook from Elizabethtown.

{image credits: 1 // 2 // 3}

House on a hill

2011-05-14T19:45:00.001+08:00

Annie has a beautiful

stone house on a hill,

where flowers bloomed

and grass is green still.

I look forward to visit her

and talk like old times,

laughing loud over

coffee and pies.

I loath when the day's done

and bid on her stone door,

while running my hand on cold letters

that comforts me nevermore.

{Image: 1}

Yearnings

2011-05-04T19:48:00.001+08:00

I crave for life,

filled with passions;
of bleeding pain and wondering touch.

I'll be intoxicated by the pleasures of beer;

I'll exhaust myself just to feel.

I'll be thirsty like parched earth yearns for a downpour;

I'll be untamed like the wind,

the sea and the heavens.

I'll be free from these cold monotonous chains that grip me

and my back will be smoothened from

my immortal wings.

{Image: dream-traveler )

Like a bouquet of ranunculus

2011-04-07T20:02:00.001+08:00

Time dragged like the creaking wheels of a cart on a lonely road.

A fetching picture, like how a lone figure walks sluggishly under the rain without an umbrella.

It drags until the eyes open in the late morning light while a distant bell tolls for noon.

A distant bell tolls...

Will a fairy from Faerie* appear before me and take me away to his countless balls and sleepless days?

If so, then time will have stopped, if only for a while.

Time...

Like the stars on the darkened velvet sky, as always, are

beyond my outstretched hands to reach;

uncaring and forbidding to earthly creatures like me.

If I could bottle their cold winking light and pour it down my dim eyes

I may have to see graceful mythic figures come to life

And my days will be spent gloriously.

But for now, it feels like someone gave me a bouquet of ranunculus;

the purple sad petals draw me into it's pool of secrets

and my mind whirls and scatters into the four winds...

I am Rouenna and I am delusional.

*Faerie - old England from the book, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, where a tolling bell signals the appearance of a fairy.
{Image credit: 1 // 2}

Music and memories

2011-03-21T22:44:00.002+08:00

for akapugs
now playing: Can't take my eyes off you by Lady Antebellum

The music played.

The guitar strums stir into

your consciousness.

Nostalgia knocks out our senses

digs out memories,

to bring it out in the surface.

Those we loved and have loved

parade behind our lids,

in sync with the melodies.

Just as if the song was made for them.

{Images: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8}

little earthquakes and little deaths

2011-03-11T00:24:00.011+08:00

for czae

Silent lovers;

sparks flying as they pass by each other;

hands clasping so tight there's pain, a relief;

searing meaningful gazes.
They could burn where they stand.

Waking dreams and hidden rings
propel their boat to float.
Lips are sealed,
they long to utter precious names.
They slip, they burst out;
and you catch your breath.
The world tilts for a moment,
yet you wish this moment won't ever end.

~.~

where love is a scream of anguish.

- Maya Angelou

{images: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7}

Remembering a day in Feb.

2011-02-11T15:56:00.000+08:00

an ordinary day to receive one red rose

an innocent girl who got swept off her feet...

{Image credit: tumblr / bitznpieces via whitebreeze / tumblr}

Olden Days

2011-01-26T18:10:00.000+08:00

I love those old children books with illustrations at the beginning of their chapters.

I still want to write my poems on a typewriter.

I miss the idea of sending old postcards, having old keys, and vintage timepieces

{Image credit: zvaella, via daydreamlily, via kazzy-ass}

portraits de nostalgie, four

2010-12-13T15:24:00.000+08:00

Dancing is like dreaming with your feet

- Constanze

{image credit: tumblr, misscheriedior, ballet }

Silence of November

2010-11-04T02:37:00.000+08:00

Every November

an ancient gloom hovers

a memory of a heart breaking for the first time

but as time heals most things

can now look back only

with wistfulness

November

when the past and present blurs

the mind turns unnatural

a time of smiles

tinge with sadness.

{image credit: 1) alicebaby; 3) mothermonsterr}

Wisps of Me

2010-09-09T00:16:00.000+08:00

If going up in smoke leaves one in so much awe

I think I'd rather fade away than burn out.

{image: dreehemingway}

Just because...

2010-08-14T16:59:00.000+08:00

One boring day, I found this post on a blog and I thought it would be fun to answer them, too. I simply love lists like this and my journal is full of them.

about me/if i was...
a month, i would be: may
a day of the week, i would be: sunday
a time of day, i would be: a couple of hours past midnight
a planet, i would be: saturn
a sea animal, i would be: a seahorse
a direction, i would be: like a long winding road
a piece of furniture, i would be: window seat
a sin, i would be: sloth
a historical figure, i would be: marco polo
a liquid, i would be: vodka mixed with everything else
a stone, i would be: a broken one lit by sunlight
a tree, i would be: rowan tree
a bird, i would be: eagle
a tool, i would be: a letter opener
a flower/plant, i would be: wisteria
a kind of weather, i would be: windy on a clear sky
a mythical creature, i would be: phoenix
a musical instrument, i would be: harp
an animal, i would be: a cheetah
a colour, i would be: heartache
a vegetable, i would be: potatoes
a sound, i would be: a distant thunder
an element, i would be: fire
a car, i would be: good ol' beetle
a song, i would be: the dreamy kind
a movie, i would be directed by: Joe Wright
a book, i would be written by: Virginia Woolf
a food, i would be: pasta and French bread
a place, i would be: edge of a mountain plateau
a material, i would be: a wooden swing under a lone tree
a taste, i would be: vanilla
a scent, i would be: the still air before a storm
a religion, i would be: none
a word, i would be: day dreaming
an object, i would be: an old vintage clock
a body part, i would be: nape of the neck
a facial expression, i would be: the one gazing up the sky
a subject in school, i would be: literature
a cartoon character, i would be: bugs bunny
a shape, i would be: shifting clouds
a number, i would be: 8

{image: mystic domestica}

Hopping by Circa

2010-08-02T17:21:00.002+08:00

Period films, fashion shoots, theme parties...love, love, love.

Dakota and Kirsten in the film The Runaways

Natalia Vodianova by Meisel for Vogue

Masquerade

Hippie chic

Keira in Pride and Prejudice

The looks for every circa make for an interesting study.

At times, I feel like I was an eighteenth century lady in my past life. Most times, I've been wanting to see things in a hippie's point of view. One part of me wants to get out and flaunt some rock image or be like a mysterious creature in a ball gown and mask.

Ah, who of them all had the most intriguing life?

{image credits: stylehop; stylehive;life is bananas; elle fr; xinhuanet}

Innocence, books, treasures, etc

2010-07-07T21:20:00.002+08:00

A few of my favorite things...

If I could live my life with passion,
If I could be demented in despair for them
If I search that longing fire inside my soul
Then I may have a life lived.

{images: 1.2. anna williams 3. the girl who tamed the tiger 4. xue ying}

...it's gonna haunt me the rest of my life

2010-06-30T19:52:00.000+08:00

BEFORE SUNRISE

Daydream delusion, limousine eyelash

Oh baby with your pretty face

Drop a tear in my wineglass

Look at those big eyes

See what you mean to me

Sweet-cakes and milkshakes

I'm a delusion angel

I'm a fantasy parade

I want you to know what I think

Don't want you to guess anymore

You have no idea where I came from

We have no idea where we're going

Lodged in life

Like branches in a river

Flowing downstream

Caught in the current

I carry you

You'll carry me

That's how it could be

Don't you know me?

Don't you know me by now?

- Street Poet

Jesse: Uh... I'm gonna take your picture. So I never forget you or, uh, or all this.
Celine: Okay. Me too.

portraits de nostalgie, three

2010-06-14T20:46:00.000+08:00

Photos via 1;2;3

Flower of Melancholy

2010-05-30T19:14:00.003+08:00

There is something melancholic about wisteria.

wisteria

The drooping blossoms that mirror my lone violet thoughts.

trellis

Even the word "wisteria" leaves an impression to me...

pillar

...like something grand but lonely.

"Wisteria woke me this morning,
And there was all June in the garden;
I felt them, early, warning
Lest I miss any part of the day.
Straight I walked to the trellis vine.
Wisteria touched a lifted nostril:
Feelings of beauty diffused, to entwine
My spirit with June’s own aura."

- Ann McGough, Summons

All I Long for Summer

2010-05-06T00:45:00.003+08:00

The lazy afternoons are here and my body seemed languid.

I only want to spend these days listlessly; stare out the windows, gaze at the soft light of the setting sun, throw my arms outward to feel the breeze on my loose hair...

bleubird vintage

inspired

natalie kucken

nonpareilofjulia

tryphena

In the midst of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.

- Albert Camus

Mesmerized by Meisel, always

2010-04-06T19:45:00.003+08:00

For many times, I wish to live a "flapper" kind of life.

...wearing felt hats

...conversation over coffee and croissants

...the glamor of a Parisienne.

Photos by Steven Meisel for Vogue September 2007

Still Beauty

2010-03-23T17:58:00.004+08:00

Portrait of a Woman

True beauty is in her eyes...
- Jean Pullman

via tumblr

A Strewing of Flowers

2010-03-12T21:42:00.001+08:00

Flowers on their hair...

Under the Tuscan Sun

Flowers on her arms...

Atonement

Flowers on her hands...

Mamma Mia

Most wonderful of all is to be surrounded by flowers.

Bright Star

"...and then my heart with pleasure fills,

and dances with the daffodils."

- I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

William Wordsworth

Wall of Messy Inspiration

2010-03-04T22:55:00.000+08:00

I love scrapbooks and art collages.

This is the cover of my current journal. I like the little colored horses and little roses strung at the end of the ribbon bookmark.

I keep mementos and journals on this recycled cardboard box full of illustrations and artwork.

Words cut from a glossy mag pinned to our cork board.

Let yourself

whisper and wander and wonder.

Let yourself anticipate

the bliss.

Let yourself

have all you deserve.

Let yourself remember

the unforgettable.

Let yourself let it go.

A cylinder covered by paper collage, used as a sort of piggy bank by my sister.

Inspiration is all around us.

portraits de nostalgie, two

2010-02-26T21:01:00.001+08:00

Photos via weheartit

In the gloomy hallways of my twisted mind

2010-02-26T19:22:00.005+08:00

Saint Ange

I saw the movie years ago and it left me a bit confused, too, as if I had gone mad myself.

Somehow, all I could remember, and all that had made an impression to me was the imposing mansion, a grand staircase and a demented girl in white.

Lull

2010-02-21T02:05:00.002+08:00

The clandestine meetings;

the surreptitious glances;

the hot clasps.

- Rightfully mine by Doris Mortman

Please

don't ever say never...

...and please don't promise me forever.

All I ask

is that you love me

now.

source

A Page Comes to Life

2010-02-16T20:27:00.006+08:00

I have kept a journal for many years now.

journal of a preacher

Writing is a dog's life, but the only life worth living.

- Gustave Flaubert

bill sharp's sketches

A journal tells stories. Open it and the pages come to life.

daily Bible journal

I have collected many colorful journals and it's been interesting to read past entries; past loves and hates, past pains and joys, forgotten epiphanies and buried dreams.

My little journal

first love never dies

2010-02-13T19:00:00.000+08:00

The memory of a young love is young forever.

Like a stone that withstands time; its memory is young forever.

Happy Valentines, everyone!

Source: young love, heartstone

Spell of Witches

2010-02-08T23:40:00.007+08:00

Blessed be.

Some days, I dream to be Morgan Le Fay and walk treacherous paths. Other days, I dream of Deborah Mayfair and when I die on a summer night, a storm would break out of the skies.

Photo via weheartit

Dreaming

2010-02-01T01:47:00.023+08:00

the grass, the sky, the forest
and everything is a blur;
you are the only one clear to me.

A paper collage I made out of old fashion magazines.