There was a song.

It always begins with a song, yes? As is propounded by Mr. Gaiman and Mr. Lewis.

In my case, a song played over the rather quiet atmosphere of Isetan in KLCC just yesterday.

Well, as we all know, I pay attention to songs played in shopping malls and places where one can walk around for hours doing absolutely nothing but stare at gorgeous materialistic
manifestations and wishing that dear old Mom's credit card was around.

The song began with a short sweet piece on the piano before the vocals came in and ruined my Sunday. Let me explain.

The volume at which this song was played was ridiculously soft. The vocals were a blur as a result, and although I loved the song, I could not for the life of me catch a line of the lyrics so I may go to the Google God and find the title and artist and download it illegally from the Internet like the freeloading leech that I am.

As a result, I am now stuck with bits of the song in my head and feeling frustrated that I was unable to find that song.

It is a horrible thing.

You know, that feeling where you have seen that actor/actress before and you simply cannot remember the name?

It drives me mad, my friends. I hate it when my memory fails me (which it does and often to boot). Somehow or other I cannot rest until I find out exactly who he or she is.

Same thing with songs.

I like it, and so I must have it in my mp3 list which, after the Unfortunate Incident of The Motherboard in the Nighttime has begun to grow steadily.

That's 'cause I've ignored my brother and ignored 'em warnings and decided to continue being a freeloading leech.

Hmmph.

There was an Animated Film.

In this case, Grave of the Fireflies by Studio Ghibli.

It has got to be the singularly most touching, heart-tugging, simple and bittersweet anime ever produced. (Though it's debatable for me to claim that, I simply have not watched that many anime.)

For me, I am stone-cold when it comes to movies and anime. I always get sad, but I never actually cried. I don't believe in tearing up over a fictional piece of work. I get choked at certain songs/original scores, if I feel particularly emotional, that is. (Which is quite often, as K would say, because I can get emo quite a bit, though for some reason only he and V can put up with it)

But I digress.

As J said, Ghibli is great because it's storytelling that is simple and beautiful and endearing.

How true!

Yesterday I saw an example of what a truly simple and melancholy story can do to oneself. I watched a truly beautiful story unfolding slowly before my rather tired eyes.

I watched the Grave of the Fireflies, a story about two orphans in the midst of World War 2. A story of survival. A story about the love of a brother and the harshness of reality.

I got all teary-eyed.

I sniffed.

I tried not to cry.

(and for the rest, I shall not admit, because it's embarrassing)


There is A Sick Dog.

Yes, my friends, I think Maya is sick. She has lost her ferocious appetite despite my best efforts. I've even tried enticing her with canned meat (which under normal circumstances she would polish off within minutes) but she has not actually eaten it all. She is now moping in her kennel, looking miserable and ignoring all my calls. She always looks dismal during the day and goes mad at night, but yesterday night she was just as mopey.

I am now worried sick. Gonna take her out to eat some grass and then see if she gets better. If not, I am going straight to the vet and getting her what she needs. Damn. I ain't waiting for bro no more. I'll walk to freakin' SPCA if I hafta. He keeps delaying her vet trip.

I am worried sick.


Sigh.

Goodbye all.