6 Things to do On a Rainy Day

1. Sleep. And sleep. And sleep. I think that rainy days are absolutely perfect for sleeping. My room is cold and dark but it's not too cold for blankets and just dark enough for me to stare at the ceiling before falling asleep. I usually don't take afternoon naps but on rainy days, I sleep up to 2 hours. Oh screw insomnia. Sleeping on a rainy afternoon is a must.

2. Watch a tear-jerking movie. I watched 'My Sassy Girl' just now. It may be a bit cheesy if I'm not this sentimental but hey, it's raining. I'm feeling understandably maudlin today so it's the perfect condiment to my insistence on feeling sorry for myself. And Charlie and Jordan of course because they are too sweet together. I like the fact that it's autumn/winter in the movie and it kinda suits the weather here and it's all gloomy and stuff. God, I adore weeping on a rainy day.

3. Sit in front of the window with a mug of hot chocolate. Trust me, it's heaven on earth. But then, you need to be sober to do that. You can't sit there, just watching the rain without feeling bored if you're high. Personally, it's like a form of therapy or something. I watch the raindrops pattering onto my window and there's that sense of peace and... tranquility. It's soothing and stress-relieving. Especially after the heart-stopping results. (Not exactly heart stopping in a good way.)

4. Ooh ooh, I like this one: Listening to Ella Fitzgerald while lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. That's for after waking up from the 2-hour nap and feeling too comfortable to get up and do anything else. I love Ella. She has an amazing voice so smooth and rich and velvety you get goosebumps listening to her. Oooooh, I'm going to scream!!! It feels so good and your heart constricts and you wanna hug someone and never let go. 

5. Cook. Pumpkin soup is nice. Or ham and split pea soup. Or French onion soup. And some garlic bread to dip into the thick, hot, gooey paradise. Dio mio, I can almost see the steam. And omg, chocolate chip cookies!!! Yum. Nibbling chocolatey-delight and wriggling frozen toes. Why hadn't I done this before??? And of course, lasagna. I actually like the beef one more compared to the seafood one. .

6. Writing poems. It actually comes easier than usual. Think about it; you have the mood, you have the dreary setting. What more could you possible ask for? There are a thousand things to write about the rain; there are a thousand things to write about how you feel about the rain; there are a thousand things to write about why you love the rain. Here's a pretty rain poem by Robert Creeley:

All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent--
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.

Shuning's Birthday Poem

Note: This is the poem I wrote for Shuning's birthday. David wrote the last stanza though. (Thanks!) Hope you like it, SN.

Feet dangling in turquoise blue

And the late autumn chill comes sifting down

Bites, nips at her ankles like little fish.

She looks out to the sea, where all

Are in their sluggish dreams, dripping with honey lethargy

All but the lone seagull who

Kept screeching like a blithering idiot

Until, tired of the monotony, flies away

And silence settles like a heavy blanket.

Graveyard At Twilight

It was twilight when

I passed the graveyard

Ochre rays set the unblemished marbles

On fire, blazing, 

Reflection bouncing off polished headstones. 

The morning dew still clings

Provocatively to the edge of the grass;

Obdurate smile, head bobbing up and down

Until finally it

Slips and splatters onto the ground.

And the bumptious bird sings

Voice cracking, feathers ruffled; angry

At the beacon of light that shines through

The canopy of leaves
Stealing its audiences. 

The Butterfly's Death

Ersatz colour of the plastic roses
Almost resplendent in my black and white dreams
The sky splits and pours
And the petals drip, dripping red.

Peeking behind the rose window
Iridescent, colours that sear my mind.
The tulips nod in a uniform rhythm
Crying, weeping schmaltzy tears

For the butterfly with flimsy wings
Its intricate patterns melting in the gelid wind
Fluttering, exhausted, trembling timorously before
Dropping, an insignificant death.

Bitter Heart

Creeping ennui settles silently over
The screaming rooftop
Pelted by heavy droplets of crystalline tears.

The morbid bird in my garden sings
A burlesque song of hellfire deep, as
The leaves shook and shivered in the poignant wind.

Now that my heart is only a
Blackened maar that was once the pernicious volcano
I look at the tattoo on the Nazi lampshade

And I smile.