Not crazy about the flick but WW’s boyfriend was hot

An FB post a couple of days ago: Perhaps I shouldn’t have scanned through all those gushing reviews online before watching the movie earlier this afternoon because it probably shot my hopes up a bit high. (Spoiler Alert?) Nearly all of the best scenes had already been incorporated in its trailers. Although the movie was well made, the tiresome formulaic climax of one-on-one battle with an evil god or monster — which enforces mayhem and burning all around and the hurling of whatever heavy stuff nearby — made me want to slump on my seat. Still, the onscreen chemistry between the two lead characters is delightful; Gal Gadot is credible as Wonder Woman; and Chris Pine’s acting, plus that sight of him getting out and going down from the bathtub is definitely worth my time and theater fee.

Having watched all the other superhero flicks, I had expected WW to diverge from those old motifs and offer sth different or original. Oh the world war 1 setting, the Amazons, the acting, etc. were all very good but on the whole, there was nothing quite exceptional about the film I could later muse on. IMHO, Captain America-1 was a lot better and so were some of the past Marvel movies.

I liked the London arrival sequence — how well it showed her unfamiliarity with then 20th century and the big reveal scene in “No Man’s Land” together with the film’s many humorous and charming scenes. The romance could’ve been sweeter, though. And (spoiler alert!) Steve’s character should’ve been extended for one more installment.
What I really want to say is that I love love love Chris Pine in this movie. He can do either comedy or drama splendidly. What an outstanding talent. And oh, those blue eyes….

Image result for google image of Chris Pine as Steve Foster in WonderwomanImage result for google image of Chris Pine as Steve Foster in Wonderwoman

for piece and peace

To be able to read and enjoy good pieces. To be able to somehow learn from very good writers, which requires making peace with everyone on social media — minus any real discourse and drama. No friendship is necessary; co-existing is what’s important. True camaraderie through the net isn’t possible anyway; things are better with the right distance. Serenity is what we really need.

Oh Pizza! Plus Milk Tea and Sunset Watching

Hooked on selfies and posting them on FB and Instagram. I keep going back to the cool wonderful places in the city I’ve been to recently.

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I just discovered S&R Pizza which is delicious
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I bought the Royal Choco Milk Tea which tastes so-so to be able to get the seat and enjoy the view
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Waiting for the sunset although the sudden drizzle kinda spoiled the fun. Ah, the wind and my hair….

reverse, reset, retry

I’ve more than a hundred tasks on my to-do list that might take a hundred years as well to cross out. Why? Because there are a few worlds I keep wishing to step into every now and then without the plague of time and authenticity.

Mind, although in awe of my guiding lights who had shown me how a certain shake, flow and tie-up of words could mount to levels of eminence, I also suffer from an absence of inspiration. Not to mention a periodic review of my pitiful attempts at poetry has persistently been a frightful shudder. 

But I am not shamed by my many simple thoughts… for they make me feel still alive.

Lack of imagination and talent won’t ever qualify me to become a pro, yet I figured if this is something I’d be doing fifteen years from now I’d better take steps that could someday culminate in telling myself “you’ve come a long way, baby.”

Admittedly, I’ve been accused of one or two things in my several years of residence on WordPress. And maybe I should’ve pressed that there had never been any inconsiderate intent on my part. I wouldn’t have pushed some connection buttons if that weren’t the case. I am a social being after all, too; granting they’re willing to excuse my extreme fondness toward adverbs, conjunctions, and adjectives which interminably calls for harsh intervention.

That’s faint hope reaching for the kind center of somebody’s wisdom, despite my repeated tumble over shadows and cracks gone wrong.

Mistakes mistakes — with plenty of remorse in its course. That’s the rain falling over this summer’s sadness. For the realm of reading and writing reminds us of our hearts still beating. It’s all or nothing. Bleeding but striving. Breaking yet burning.

While I keep rubbing on such memory; understanding how nothing will ever be mine to keep.


A favorite from my teen-age era:

Well there’s too many windows in this old hotel
And rooms filled with reckless pride
And the walls have grown sturdy
And the halls have borne well
But there is nobody living inside. Nobody living inside.

Heart Hotels – Dan Fogelberg

what price

She goes out for the rudimentary world that lets the warmth of the sun seep through the trembling hand of her own weakness and uncertainty. Carving a sphere, she seeks distance from anyone and anything that might cast her thoughts next to her broken heart.

But in between the business of living and trying to keep a soul from dying, she often ends up groping her way along trails she hasn’t known about. Forever shackled to an alien status, her disengagement to standard chaos — sometimes out of barren concern — doesn’t come without a price, notwithstanding the few convictions that had already passed across her face.

How could anyone understand this woman who at the end of the day would yearn for the sight of the moon in any shape. The same woman, on her bended knee, who would plead for the rugged winds to carry her off far into the dark of the night.


– geena, april 2017

Der schwarze Vogel ohne Namen
The Black Bird Without A Name, SC, Tumbler

maybe a prose never a poem – 10

You stand around that edge. I do the same, and the footsteps of every second start melting over your silence and mine. Anything can seem out of character between the two of us anyway.

We hold on for the dedication that runs without the clarity of faith. Remembering how once there had been a voice that was sweet and clear — the one that could’ve pulled me along those lyrical dreams.

The breeze blows its force… and we fall into the sea, the sea of surrendering smiles and deep embrace. I ask, “Is this what it’s like to overflow with you — after feeling misbegotten and apart from the rest?” A smile and the long embrace are your just replies. 

With warm comfort locking up each moment, a knowledge growing stronger, more beautiful at the turn of dusk, a touch is extended by the evening… and we do a soft dance around the moon, until the hour of space intervenes and tells us not to.


— geena, april 2017

– by Ryan Jackman

Beige Reality

Half a world away from them all. With such location functioning as my shelter, my ordinary existence — through an ether that unites inhabitants across freeways — is suited to join the rising sun for everyone to see. Yet there’s no distance the mind and soul cannot reach. What can they perceive that’s beyond my outline of intended exposure? How do they sometimes just magically gain the key to the secret doors of my inner traits and psyche?

There remains a mission in me to search for any flash that could prompt a few thoughts, a series of lines, even a single one; steadily waiting for that jet of blue flame that might yield a sensitive, sound pretty script for these pages.

Any analysis, however, by Facebook or Twitter or Tumbler of my being would be futile. I am old now. What purpose could it probably serve? I simply hanker for peace, ease, and a li’l writing piece. I hope that’s not too much to ask.


RECENT FB POST: I was at my happiest in that land, where I felt I truly belong — in the sense everything about the place could foster my identity, spirit and the many fancies within my heart .

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A frustrated guitar player that I’d been, I was relentless about my son continuing his guitar and piano lessons (he’s naturally talented) because — one of the primary reasons — I couldn’t get enough of the mainly guitar music of the 70’s band Bread. I had wished for him to play this song for me one day — it didn’t happen 🙂 . Anyway the plucking, the lyrics and the melody render it as one of the most memorable.
I found a diary underneath a tree, and started reading about me.
The words she’d written took me by surprise.
You’d never read them in her eyes […]
Her meaning now as clear as sea…
The love she waited for was someone who’s not me.”

randomly out of touch

We keep missing the nighttrain that could transport us to a past

when the same unfeeling hearts

had repeatedly walked up that spiral of emptiness.

Backward in sentiment, undemonstrative no less

with each new region that has been formed

in comfort, in warmth, in mystery.

Now why should I fumble for certainty

at something you and I have no liberty to know.


– geena April 2017


Recent FB post: me and my boyfriend — a match made in the galaxy 😍. But there’s no way telling Mr. Starlord — or we’re finished. 🤣

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A once upon a time favorite from JLo:
I’m happy to say, in a lot of ways you changed me
Makes me smile/ when you said you were glad the day
you found me
I’m wishing away/ any harm that might ever find you
Heaven knows, I really feel I’ll always be your girl.