The House

Days has been good
Those people has been treating me well
I breath easy under the sun
Here I say love, remember the house

Chorus
Next to the river, over the mounts,
The place when we hide under the rain
Old house was crumbling

I have the homesick
Drink a little water to write to you,
Over the wall as if
I can see you working on the house

No need to worry
I am fine and I hope you are well
Just sent me pictures
So I can see you smile and that's all

Days have been raining
Recalls me to when we first saw
The house, it stood
Under the rain over the mounts

An Update 4: Murmuring and Thinking

Cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. The joy of Rene Descarte and human intellect combines and crosses, in which of the shadow thus I stand, more often than I should. As crazy as it seems, the merit of thinking, to me at least, is merely a entertainment, for the brains of thirsty, nothing to do, and self riddling "intellectuals." The "thinking" of which I am referring to is not the same "thinking" which is used by engineers, physicians. Nor it is an excuse used almost meaninglessly to buy some time before the eventual apocalypse. It could be equated with drugs, opium, which fueled for centuries and matured numerous addictions. Such famous addicts includes, as early back as Aristotle, Francis Bacon, John Locke, Immanuel Kant, Benjamin Franklin and so on. For them, thinking must have been a joy, a form of opera for their brain. Of course, the validity of pervious statement is hopelessly unprovable thus deserving of death by hanging. However, the point might be intuitive though, that thinking, something of that produces no real world results( unlike problem solving, the more realistic cousin) ,by it self at least, is just fun. Like a brain teaser for big boys, to think about life, government and all that is between the sky above and earth below. Our brain likes it, our intellectual part of ourselves demands it, so we thought and continue to do so. For centuries and centuries and centuries, the collective thinkers and drunks could stack together and reach the moon 10 times fold. Which is a good place to place all the drunks. Back to the point, as we find that "thinking" is nothing but of a entertaining process for people who have free time to think and therefore call them "intellectuals" is design for something greater. It's designed for us to realize our special talents, that we could get a glimpse of horizon of the ocean, without knowing what it is out there.  It tells us that we have just a taste of the truth, we are only so little and can accomplish so little. But it is there to give us the reassurance that we are different, like a telescope, reaching to the stars and regift our purpose, whatever that is.

Now, there is something for you to think about.

For only 5 dollars a kilo. 

An Update 3: Valentines's song

Marianna: Bright Days,  not by distance, but by faith, living in, a , stained glass myriad, opening up , small wisdom.

Harry ( me) : Smile, not of here or there, but of hearts, expands in the , atmosphere , transcends, fragrance of you.

This is a valentine's "conversation" between My friend marianna and I on facebook. It was her original post that give me a wonderful platform to express my long awaited sentimentalism from watching a beautifully made movie. It was neat, I think,  perfect for the occasion. I thoroughly admire Marianna's original and her creativity and heart that build it. So thank you, Marianna. And enjoy this valentine's song.

By the way, there is no spell check on the school's laptop, so if I miss spelled some words, please forgive me. :p

An Update 2 : Creast of Poetry and the Day

Live with, Wither with and Rest with
The flower which was born
It grows, lives, and frowns
So let go, an ultimantum ,
A hill awaits alone

So the hill awaits alone
The sight was there to see
But what else, man?
Is the star with you also?
But what else, man?
Is the sun with you also?
Is the moon with you also?
Is the galaxy with you also?

Ah, the breath which meant to fly away
What remains but names on stones
But eternal glory,
lives, and will not wither.

So that's how the poems ends. With a whisper, not a bang. I do not have a particular interest in the poetry, but it so happen today that I felt the need to write. To write and to sing my heart out. In school, in the almost empty cafeteria which I enjoy a piece of solitude. I like herd though, it excites me and keep me occupied. The friends, the smiles, the times which flows away so easily, and memories, today, the day which my comedy club convens from 4 to 5, is a good day.

An update!

Here is a funny story for you.
When I was little, my teeth was beautiful and straight. It was an perfect set. Perfect for anything related to talking to making a speech. But that was then. Then means before I started to get the new ones. And they came, crooked and isolated. My front tooth has an instinctive dislike towards each other, while the one on the left of the front is subjected to front tooth's influence while the one on the right is a loner. I am not even finished yet. As you zoom out a little. you will also see that I also have the tiger teeth as they call it in China. Just a wonderful set.

Ha, the story does not end there. Though I was still the exciting person I was then, I was reluctant to smile. So I did not. Every time I did, I forced my lip to covered the hideous things, making an almost anguish and awkward face. But I was embarrassed of my teeth. As the days went on, I can not really smile anymore, at least, not like what others did. I did not know how to smile! When I look back now, I remember the silliness of that choice and I would chuckle a little, then reach for sip from my cup of tea.

So it went on, until America. I do not exactly know how I really started to accept my self and reimburse my confidence. I do not know. But it was then that I found out that people did not really care how I looked. As long as I am confident, I am confident in how I look, how I dressed, how I spoke. Then I started to lift up my upper lips more and more and letting more of  my confidence in. God made me this way and I am complaining and rejecting anymore. Though now air can cross my teeth easily, they will love the feel of air running between them. Ah, the freedom and the happiness of trusting your soul!

So, I though that was a funny, sweet story. Please read it with a cup of tea.

Sentimentalist.

I have decided with a resolute heart that I shall share more personal things in this blog. It is one of those things that I hold it dear to my heart. With a sudden realization that I might just be more sentimental than I have expected. No, it is different from being emotional, one huge of gap of pessimisim that seperates me from them. Pemissism does not appear in my diction, but sentimentalism, yes. Sentimentalism is a warm cup of hot water, gives one an comfort and peace that sprouts within. It's an out look that I am grateful for. At times of discouragements, life has rendered my powerless, but Lord my God, gives me stregth, and sentimentalism is one of them. It teachs me to be at peaceful and rest easy with the ways things turns and twist. With things which I can not change, I accept, with prayers and love.
What is sentimentalism? It is a feeling, a power that gives strength in the face of obsticles. Instead of cooping with inabilities, I can rest easy and enjoy the things which I do have.  Which is hard to do sometimes, and at those times, I rely on the Lord to rest my heart and give me the right mindset.
That was only one of the sentimental ideas. Sentimentalism encompasses more than that. It's the key to unlock one self from the prison of feeling.  No longer trapped in it, I would say. I can step out side and look at every feeling I have generated and let it go, watch it and observe it. It is not an complete detachement from it, but an realization that enables to look at it and see it, shake hands with it.
My lyrics is very sentimental, in my opinion. It's about feelings, feelings that which I  find standing in front of me. My lyrics is full of my feeling, my roars, my cries.

On the street of Paris

Chorus
I don't need any money
All I need is love
Love on these streets

Six strings and a melody
What I say you won't believe
A stranger's voice from overseas

When you walk by won't you
Leave a smile and a wave
As the sun shine on my place

This is belated symphony
As strangers eyes finally meet
Beautiful memories to keep

Chorus
I don't need any money
All I need is love
Love on these streets

Soulmate we might never be
But I will sing a song
Sing a song and watch you leave

My voice can't get to the horizon
But It can get to your heart
Won't you leave a spark

Six strings and a melody
Sitting one the street with the rights keys
Just leave your love for me, to keep.


My friend is France right now, he said that he would play guitar on the street for money. I said, just say you do it for love, and that's how the idea of the song got into me and I wrote it down. Here you, Clover!

Long time no see!

I haven't updated my blog for long while, though I know that almost body read this anyway, I continue write to my self and 195 page view that was generated since last september.  It's pathetic, I know it.  Pathetic and temptation and desire of slapping my self cross the my already sleep deprived face. Now I am fulfilling a duty, duty and honor, which often binds together, to continue on with this blog. Here is also a little present from me, as the time of Chinese New Year comes around, I will have fresh out of the oven lyrics ready in the next couple of days. So see you then!