A rainy day in Singapore smells like a chlorinated swimming pool.
Which isn't that bad, actually.
Right now, I'm supposed to be reading up on Purcell and Corelli and Vivaldi and Monterverdi and Bach and Handel and Beethoven and Mozart and Hayden and suites and cantatas and arias and ritornellos and sonatas and basso ostinato and listening to songs such as Vivaldi's 'La Primavera' and Bach's surprisingly spookily enrapturing 'Little Fugue in G Minor'.
I still don't regret taking Music, no matter how much I complain about it.
I finished the STD pamphlet before lunch. We decided not to include any pictures because they were all sick and disturbing and disgusting at the same time.
I don't feel like doing any work now but I have to and must so I probably will. Sometime. Sooner. Or later. Preferably sooner.
The Muslim Bruneians here have been invited to a Doa Selamat later.
I honestly want to show up for tomorrow's dinner in a cara melayu, since they addressed me as an "Awang".
Maybe I should.
No comments:
Post a Comment