At Glen's Party
Glen, who is my co-worker at the English Language Institute, had a farewell party today. Actually, it is probably still going on at his place right now. Anyway, I had a bit of time before tutoring Winnie, so, with a bunch of ELI students, I bumbled to his place.
The apartment was spacious, but barely enough to contain more than 30 people. There were lots of chatter, food and laughter, just as what you would expect from a party. Glen has a piano, so I took the liberty to play a couple of pieces (Schubert's "Christmas" A-flat Impromptu and Chopin's Raindrop Prelude). That opened up a group of pianists who also toyed with the keyboard. Then into the backdrop I faded; afterall, this is Glen's party. I am part of the festive scene. When it was time to go, I quietly said good bye to Glen, and left.
At these parties I always feel a certain kind of absurdity. I don't quite understand my purpose of being there: is it to add an extra shadow to the scene? An extra voice to the noise? An extra breath of air? I probably should have just opened myself up more and engage into other people's conversations: I do see myself as witty and capable of small-talk, so it will never be the case that I have nothing interesting to say. On the other hand, what is the point of such small talk? It is all words, bouncing back and forth, sometimes heard, sometimes misheard, often unheard. One has to be unconscious about the entire situation to be able to participate fully into this merry party world; and these days, maybe I'm just tired and cynical, but I tend to become more conscious about the absurdity. Not just in this party, but in life in general, I often ask myself: what am I doing here? If the world is coming to an end, then what is the point of me? A heavy paralysis holds me sometimes, and I do not know where to go. And so I just sat there, watching the merry crowd merry along their merry ways; within my mind there was only a terrifying silence...
But when I see that you too are equally numb, but I hear music in my mind. We share the same cup of juice because we see poetry beyond this merry world. But I find my juice sweet, and you may find yours rather sour.
The apartment was spacious, but barely enough to contain more than 30 people. There were lots of chatter, food and laughter, just as what you would expect from a party. Glen has a piano, so I took the liberty to play a couple of pieces (Schubert's "Christmas" A-flat Impromptu and Chopin's Raindrop Prelude). That opened up a group of pianists who also toyed with the keyboard. Then into the backdrop I faded; afterall, this is Glen's party. I am part of the festive scene. When it was time to go, I quietly said good bye to Glen, and left.
At these parties I always feel a certain kind of absurdity. I don't quite understand my purpose of being there: is it to add an extra shadow to the scene? An extra voice to the noise? An extra breath of air? I probably should have just opened myself up more and engage into other people's conversations: I do see myself as witty and capable of small-talk, so it will never be the case that I have nothing interesting to say. On the other hand, what is the point of such small talk? It is all words, bouncing back and forth, sometimes heard, sometimes misheard, often unheard. One has to be unconscious about the entire situation to be able to participate fully into this merry party world; and these days, maybe I'm just tired and cynical, but I tend to become more conscious about the absurdity. Not just in this party, but in life in general, I often ask myself: what am I doing here? If the world is coming to an end, then what is the point of me? A heavy paralysis holds me sometimes, and I do not know where to go. And so I just sat there, watching the merry crowd merry along their merry ways; within my mind there was only a terrifying silence...
But when I see that you too are equally numb, but I hear music in my mind. We share the same cup of juice because we see poetry beyond this merry world. But I find my juice sweet, and you may find yours rather sour.
posted by Tristan at 11:30 p.m.
1 Comments:
wei...Johnson
Is it the CA, Glen, will leave?? how come?? we all think that he looks like a HK TVB star, 王喜, do u know who he is???
About yr poem, haha...so difficult to understand ar, 大詩人, 解解畫O拉!!
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