the mudpond

It's good to let things breathe in your imagination because often your initial response to it is not the best thought-through response. I savour little glimpses of life. Mine and those of people who turn me sideways and around. Friend or stranger. Even a child. (the world looks different from down there) Sometimes an author, photographer, artist. I let things saturate and incubate here. Hopefully, deeper meanings can percolate up and flower.

Name:
Location: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

A stray cat.

7/03/2005

A Bunch of Grapes

I WAS UP with the lark this Sunday morning. Full of pep and zest. All synapses firing and raring to go.

Quite unlike most days when I need a full 45 minutes to let the music gently help Mr. Sandman dawdle out. Every muscle wants to flex. My spirit is bubbly, there's a spring to my step. I nearly skipped my way to the market
... and gee... even my hair bounces ~_~

I feel like a bunch of grapes growing toward the sun ^_^

Haha... what a quirky, kooky, peculiar thought!

Hmmm... When I'm feeling fully 'alive' like this, I feel like bursting out into the sunshine, jumping onto a trampoline or heading out to the hills. But not today. There are Sunday things to do and Sunday places to go. But I don't feel like the usual Sunday Reflection thing, either.

One irrepressibly bouncy tune just keeps skittering inside my head. It makes me wanna wiggle a little even while I'm at the keyboard.

Waittaminit. Something I said a few sentences earlier just connected.

That's right! It's Never on a Sunday! Click on it. Even if you're feeling Sunday stiffness because you're not my age ~_^ you probably still can feel what I mean.

Otherise, you should just crawl  back to bed. 

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9 Comments:

Blogger Tinkerbell said...

Hehe just LUUURRRVVVEE reading your light hearted 'cavort' with words which give so much lifelike vibrance to personal entries like this.

I looked up some of your older entries and thoroughly enjoyed your 'rituals' :=)

3:50 PM  
Blogger Tinkerbell said...

"Bunch of grapes" got me barking up the wrong tree - thought it was all about sour grapes or something lol.

3:51 PM  
Blogger percolator said...

tinkerbelle,
'cavort' hmmm.. hey, I must do something about this. For me, often it's one particular word out of nowhere that percolates and occasionally flowers.

Yes, there's lots of other stuff in my archives that felt promising when I started percolating, but ultimately aborted or rather, didn't quite bloom. lol!! But like they say, of all the material you gather, only 20% will be used in the story that makes it to print.

Grapes... muaharhar!! gotcha. T'was precisely my intention. Evil Me!

Sour Grapes, Grapes of wrath...I have just started to collect fruit metaphors, most of them by accomplished writers. But this 'Bunch of Grapes' sprang from a very fertile and naughty 8-yo mind. Yes, the common 'what-am-I game' :D

4:25 PM  
Blogger Calentropus said...

Yesterday (on Sunday), I woke up feeling like a sour lemon, I ended the day like a bunch of dried up raisins, and today, (after a real trashing at work), I come home feeling like a really bitter gourd !

Can't remember when I last felt like a pair of bright and bouncy papayas. :(

11:12 PM  
Blogger Tinkerbell said...

Since when has papayas ever become bright and bouncy? I thought papayas were the antithesis of 'perky' ROFL!

6:42 AM  
Blogger Tinkerbell said...

ESPECIALLY when they come in pairs! *grin*

6:43 AM  
Blogger Calentropus said...

That's not what I meant ! Ha Ha Ha Ha ! But it's cool, and just right now, I am in a damn good mood and am feeling like a big green banana !

Wooooo Weee !

11:37 AM  
Blogger percolator said...

Hey you two!!
look who's cavorting about now :D

Sex and fruit; fruit and sex. The two have always gone together. After all, fruit is the plant's reproductive organ. And fruit's likeness to the human body is recognised by many artists, authors and poets.

In the Bible, the Song of Solomon is erotically, joyously fruitful. Fruit is love's delight, and its remedy.

Centuries before Christ, Sappho -- for me -- the mother of all poets, the 10th muse -- describes a young woman as "a sweet apple reddening on the end of a bough, at the top of the highest bough, which the pickers overlooked -- or rather did not overlook, but could not reach."

Even a poem where sex is not mentioned can seem to express erotic desire. The speaker of H.D.'s very classical "Pears," for instance, sounds like she (he?) is in a lover's swoon

And wartabout the fruits of Carravagio's art which has underlying themes of morality - seduction and tempation? http://www.students.sbc.edu/mckinney03/gmm/caravaggio.htm

btw, calen... I can never spell your nick /out checking. What comes to mind is a cantaloupe rather than a big green banana!! Oh my, I just realise cantaloupe is rock melon as well. hahahaha!!!

;D :D :P

1:35 PM  
Blogger Calentropus said...

I have never felt like a rock melon, and I never ever ever want to feel like one ! But I will be more than delighted to hear of any stories about melons (of any sort), that you and T-bell may care to elucidate upon.

Now, moving on to more urgent matters concerning identity, I would want to ensure that you know me as Calentropus Obsidae. What does that mean, you may ask. Well, for one, it has nothing to do with Cantaloupes. I... am a Calentrope, not a Cantaloupe.

A Calentrope, is an extinct species of bird from some pre-historic era. In modern times, it is referred to as a Dodo-Bird. Obsidae means to be encase in Obsidian (a form of clear volcanic rock).

Hence, Calentropus Obsidae means, a Dodo-Bird which got fossilized in a lump of clear volcanic rock. Now, isn't that simple ? (Don't ask me how, ok ?)

Also, don't bother to look for it anywhere, 'cos I just made all that up. Now, aren't I clever ?

10:24 PM  

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