I just thought I should give readers a few directions to getting to the stories in this blog. Firstly, it's not hard at all so if you don't see a chapter straight away, don't blow a gasket. Just navigate to the labels "Popo and Jonathan" or "DWS Chapters".
Now for a bit of background. Popo is the old woman who works in a bar and tells stories to Jonathan. There is an ongoing conversation between the both of them and she shares certain memories and ideals with him. In between this, Popo tells him stories. The first one she begins with is about "The Doll, the Witch and the Scarecrow" otherwise labelled "DWS Chapters".
I would suggest following Popo and Jonathan because it'd lead you in the right order of things. Also, "Popo and Jonathan" is a story in itself and their story is linked with the ones being told by Popo. Ah well, I better not give too much away. There's no prerequisite to read about them and you can skip straight to the chapters if you like.
Anyway, that's about it. Hope you guys enjoy the story as it progresses.
Far far away
Morning peace
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Quote of the Day
“Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there.”
-Will Rogers (1879-1935), humorist, performer
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
A Sad Day by the Sea Wall
Another sad observation of mine:
My partner and I went for a walk along the sea wall this evening and were saddened to see how much more polluted the water had become. By saying polluted, I don't mean the normal rubbish that you see get washed up by the waves or thrown by really stupid monkey asses (go figure) but the great clouds of mud that whirled through the water. It's already hard enough to witness the ocean fighting back to clean our shores and polish the rocks so that we could have something to truly appreciate, only to have all its efforts wasted when major construction hits the area and the sea becomes a convenient waste dump once again.
Why is it so hard for people to understand that "Environmental Pollution -> no fish -> $50 per fish-> bad fish-> bad stomach-> sore ass-> doctor's bills-> broke ass"??? Not to mention that people love going to the sea wall for walks, jogs, hangouts or even picnics. Why, as a poor nation, we continue to destroy the land that feeds us? We truly are the most dumb ass people around. Sigh........
My partner and I went for a walk along the sea wall this evening and were saddened to see how much more polluted the water had become. By saying polluted, I don't mean the normal rubbish that you see get washed up by the waves or thrown by really stupid monkey asses (go figure) but the great clouds of mud that whirled through the water. It's already hard enough to witness the ocean fighting back to clean our shores and polish the rocks so that we could have something to truly appreciate, only to have all its efforts wasted when major construction hits the area and the sea becomes a convenient waste dump once again.
Why is it so hard for people to understand that "Environmental Pollution -> no fish -> $50 per fish-> bad fish-> bad stomach-> sore ass-> doctor's bills-> broke ass"??? Not to mention that people love going to the sea wall for walks, jogs, hangouts or even picnics. Why, as a poor nation, we continue to destroy the land that feeds us? We truly are the most dumb ass people around. Sigh........
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Author's Note -2
It's been 2 days since I've last updated the story on 'The Doll, the Witch and the Scarecrow' otherwise DWS. But hopefully that should be underway soon. However, Popo and Jonathan have continued with their own conversation in the Story Bar so by all means, have a read and find out a little more about strange Popo.
I have however, put a few pretty pictures in to make it easier on the eyes and to create a nice story telling atmosphere. It's not Picasso but it'll suffice.
Enjoy!
I have however, put a few pretty pictures in to make it easier on the eyes and to create a nice story telling atmosphere. It's not Picasso but it'll suffice.
Enjoy!
Popo And Jonathan -4
(…continued)
‘And do you know what the dolls looked like?’ Popo asked, interrupting the story.
‘No,’ Jonathan replied.
‘Well, they were those kind of porcelain dolls with painted china faces, big eyes and soft bodies,’ Popo described. ‘You know, those lifelike ones you see in the movies? Like Chucky?’
‘I don’t know Chucky but I know what you mean,’ Jonathan said.
‘Yes, like this! Bwah ha ha!’ Popo brandished an ugly looking doll quite suddenly, its face cracked and grinning awkwardly.
Jonathan jumped in fright. He scowled.
‘Ha! Got you! You got scared by this little doll!’ Popo cackled.
‘No I didn’t!’ Jonathan defended himself.
‘Yes you did!’
‘No I didn’t!’
‘Yes you did!’
‘No I didn’t! You just surprised me that’s all,’ Jonathan said. He was slightly cross now. He had been scared when Popo had whipped out the doll. Where had she been hiding it though? It hadn’t been with her when she began telling the story. He eyed her suspiciously.
Popo was looking quite pleased with herself. She was stroking the doll gently, giggling to herself. Jonathan sighed. He couldn’t help it. Most people would have thought her a senile old woman playing with ugly dolls, but as he watched her, he couldn’t help but smile. She looked like she was recalling some pleasant memory from her past.
‘Anyway, where did you get that from?’ he asked.
‘Who? Gerta?’ she said, referring to the doll. ‘She was a gift from a friend when I was in
‘You were in
‘Yes, in 1945. I was a little girl at the time. Things were different then. So noisy with all those bombs dropping all the time.’
‘Huh? You mean that you were in World War 2?’ Jonathan asked in amazement. ‘You actually saw bombs falling from the sky?’
‘Yes yes. I lived there for a while.’
‘Wow! You must be really old!’
Now it was Popo’s turn to scowl. ‘Years are nothing if you haven’t lived my boy. And I have lived. Oh yes, I have lived a very long time. I don’t know if I’m ever going to stop!’
‘Who was your friend Popo?’
Popo smiled then. Her fingers caressed the doll’s hair.
‘Her name was Adamina,’ she said. ‘She was only 6 years old at the time.’ Her face turned sad then. ‘Her parents were killed in the war and for six days and nights, she hid in a barrel with this doll. It was then that I found her and we stayed together until we managed to leave the country. It was this doll that saved her life.’
Jonathan looked at the doll again. It really didn’t look very nice. It was old and faded, its face had a tiny hole in it and its clothes were tatty and dirty. It looked like it had been through a lot.
‘How did the doll save her life?’ he asked.
Popo sighed. ‘It was very painful for her. But,’ she looked at him suddenly, ‘-that’s between me and her. And she’s left this world already so there’s just me and Gerta now. Perhaps one day Jonathan, I will tell you.’
‘Anyway, back to the story. Don’t you want to know what happened to Marianne?’
‘Uh huh. But Popo, are you sure this story is for kids?’ Jonathan asked.
‘Why? You scared of dolls?’
‘Well no but -’
‘Then why you ask?’
‘Well, it doesn’t seem like one of those happy fairy tales that’s all.’
‘Hmph. Coming from you who wanted to hear about monsters and dragons! Oh well, it’s true that this story has made adults scream in fright -’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I went easy on you on the bit where the witch clobbered her mother in the back of the shop!’
‘Oh,’ Jonathan said.
‘Yeah, especially when the lights went out and-’
‘Ok Po, you can tell me the next bit of the story,’ Jonathan said hurriedly.
‘Well…ok then. The next part. So Marianne’s a doll and-’
‘What? You didn’t tell me she turned into a doll!’
‘Oh I didn’t? Couldn’t you have guessed anyway? Ok ok, I will go back to that bit then….’
(……to be continued)
Monday, May 7, 2007
Author's Note
Just thought I should let you know that I have begun the first chapter of Popo's story to Jonathan and it's labelled 'The Doll, Witch and Scarecrow.' I've also done a short scathing account on the bus passengers of Fiji due to my recent drive along the coastal roads. Kids, don't read this bit. That's it. Keep checking this site for updates on Popo's story.
Bus Passengers
Most drivers in Fiji have always had a problem with bus drivers - next to taxi drivers, they are the worst in the world. They don't bother indicating when pulling in and out of lanes, they have no road courtesy at all barging and bullying their way back into traffic.
However, there is another disturbing factor to buses and the hazards they present - surprisingly in the form of its passengers. While driving along the coastal roads over the long weekend, we were twice nearly involved in accidents. We were stuck following a bus along the winding roads when a bottle came flying at us. My partner managed to swerve in time and it landed on the road where it shattered. Some idiot deserving of a place in the Genius Book of Records with the brain size of dog stool had thrown it out the bus with no regards whatsoever to the cars that were following.
My partner hit the car horn angrily while letting out a colourful string of words when another bottle came flying out! This time it was a Fiji Water bottle and it hit the car bonnet. Luckily it was plastic because I feared that my other half would have cut the bus off, boarded it and pommelled the perpetrator/s until he/she resembled the thrown bottles. Whew!
When the passengers heard the honking, all they did was look out through the rear window, stare at us and then went back to doing exactly what they were not supposed to do. These idiots didn't even realise why they were being honked at!!! We watched shocked as piles and piles of orange peel along with foil bags, water and more rubbish came flying out.
Why is it that we, the people of Fiji, have such a beautiful island country yet show no respect or appreciation for it? Why is it that we are so stupid? You don't need a high school education to understand the dangers of throwing things out of moving vehicles and with a majority of us coming out of villages and farms, we should know that littering is bad. Yet, we don't care. Many of us don't even bother to use our brains. We'd rather be thought of as stupid and monkey like.
Unfortunately for most of us, we are thought of as exactly that. I feel sorry for bus drivers at times knowing how they have a schedule to keep and if they are not on time, their wages get docked. They get paid very little to begin with and so there is some pressure on them which explains some of their bad driving. But now, bus companies should be made to place rules and fines on their buses as well as bins for their passengers. In this way, they make more money if their passengers do get litter happy and everyone can drive on safer, cleaner roads.
However, there is another disturbing factor to buses and the hazards they present - surprisingly in the form of its passengers. While driving along the coastal roads over the long weekend, we were twice nearly involved in accidents. We were stuck following a bus along the winding roads when a bottle came flying at us. My partner managed to swerve in time and it landed on the road where it shattered. Some idiot deserving of a place in the Genius Book of Records with the brain size of dog stool had thrown it out the bus with no regards whatsoever to the cars that were following.
My partner hit the car horn angrily while letting out a colourful string of words when another bottle came flying out! This time it was a Fiji Water bottle and it hit the car bonnet. Luckily it was plastic because I feared that my other half would have cut the bus off, boarded it and pommelled the perpetrator/s until he/she resembled the thrown bottles. Whew!
When the passengers heard the honking, all they did was look out through the rear window, stare at us and then went back to doing exactly what they were not supposed to do. These idiots didn't even realise why they were being honked at!!! We watched shocked as piles and piles of orange peel along with foil bags, water and more rubbish came flying out.
Why is it that we, the people of Fiji, have such a beautiful island country yet show no respect or appreciation for it? Why is it that we are so stupid? You don't need a high school education to understand the dangers of throwing things out of moving vehicles and with a majority of us coming out of villages and farms, we should know that littering is bad. Yet, we don't care. Many of us don't even bother to use our brains. We'd rather be thought of as stupid and monkey like.
Unfortunately for most of us, we are thought of as exactly that. I feel sorry for bus drivers at times knowing how they have a schedule to keep and if they are not on time, their wages get docked. They get paid very little to begin with and so there is some pressure on them which explains some of their bad driving. But now, bus companies should be made to place rules and fines on their buses as well as bins for their passengers. In this way, they make more money if their passengers do get litter happy and everyone can drive on safer, cleaner roads.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
The First Story (continued...)
Jonathan couldn't tell if Popo was serious or not.
'Have you heard the story of Rapunzel?' Popo asked.
'Heaps,' Jonathan said flatly. 'My little sister never tires of hearing it!'
'How about Snow White then?'
'No Popo. Those are all girly stories!'
'Little Red Riding Hood?'
'Popo!' Jonathan bemoaned. 'Please, something not Hans Anderson? How about stories of dragons, knights or monsters instead?'
'Tssk. Such active imagination. So violent too. You need to calm down and learn to accept new stories, whether you like it or not!' Popo admonished.
'But Popo, I've heard them all. I'd like to listen to something new!'
'I have just the story for you then. Guaranteed you've not heard it before!'
'Cool! What's it about?'
'It's about a doll.'
Jonathan groaned. 'A doll? This is going to be dull.'
'Nonsense! It's a very exciting story. It's got scarecrows, princes, evil witches and talking animals in it. Cool stuff!'
Jonathan perked up at 'scarecrows' and 'princes'. It sounded promising.
'But it's a very long story,' Popo warned. 'I won't be able to finish it today or tomorrow or the next day. This story takes time. Plus I'm an old woman who cannot speak so fast.'
Jonathan cocked an eye at her. He wanted to disagree over her last statement. He had seen her talk to another old chinese man the other day and she had spoken like a machine gun. It had been very scary, with the two elderly people yelling away as if the other was deaf.
'Ok then. Sit down. You got a drink? This is gonna be a long story.'
Jonathan heeded her advice, ran to the bar where he bought himself a soda and on afterthought, a cup of tea for Popo - incase she got thirsty and stopped telling the story.
'Why thank you,' Popo said as he gave her the tea. 'You're a very good boy. Now sit down and I will begin.'
Jonathan opted for the padded footstool next to Popo's chair.
'Hmmmm let me see. What was her name? Miso? Misa? Something Mi....Mari? Oh that's right! Marianne! Her name was Marianne!'
'Who was Marianne?' Jonathan asked.
'Why, the little girl of course,' came the reply.
Jonathan groaned inwardly. 'Popo, I thought you said this was an exciting story. What is Marianne doing in it?'
'You'll see Jonathan. You'll see. Ok, I will begin. The story of the doll, the scarecrow and the witch.'
'Have you heard the story of Rapunzel?' Popo asked.
'Heaps,' Jonathan said flatly. 'My little sister never tires of hearing it!'
'How about Snow White then?'
'No Popo. Those are all girly stories!'
'Little Red Riding Hood?'
'Popo!' Jonathan bemoaned. 'Please, something not Hans Anderson? How about stories of dragons, knights or monsters instead?'
'Tssk. Such active imagination. So violent too. You need to calm down and learn to accept new stories, whether you like it or not!' Popo admonished.
'But Popo, I've heard them all. I'd like to listen to something new!'
'I have just the story for you then. Guaranteed you've not heard it before!'
'Cool! What's it about?'
'It's about a doll.'
Jonathan groaned. 'A doll? This is going to be dull.'
'Nonsense! It's a very exciting story. It's got scarecrows, princes, evil witches and talking animals in it. Cool stuff!'
Jonathan perked up at 'scarecrows' and 'princes'. It sounded promising.
'But it's a very long story,' Popo warned. 'I won't be able to finish it today or tomorrow or the next day. This story takes time. Plus I'm an old woman who cannot speak so fast.'
Jonathan cocked an eye at her. He wanted to disagree over her last statement. He had seen her talk to another old chinese man the other day and she had spoken like a machine gun. It had been very scary, with the two elderly people yelling away as if the other was deaf.
'Ok then. Sit down. You got a drink? This is gonna be a long story.'
Jonathan heeded her advice, ran to the bar where he bought himself a soda and on afterthought, a cup of tea for Popo - incase she got thirsty and stopped telling the story.
'Why thank you,' Popo said as he gave her the tea. 'You're a very good boy. Now sit down and I will begin.'
Jonathan opted for the padded footstool next to Popo's chair.
'Hmmmm let me see. What was her name? Miso? Misa? Something Mi....Mari? Oh that's right! Marianne! Her name was Marianne!'
'Who was Marianne?' Jonathan asked.
'Why, the little girl of course,' came the reply.
Jonathan groaned inwardly. 'Popo, I thought you said this was an exciting story. What is Marianne doing in it?'
'You'll see Jonathan. You'll see. Ok, I will begin. The story of the doll, the scarecrow and the witch.'
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Memories of the Irish
This evening after a pleasant dinner with some friends, I happened to watch an old Irish comedy. The viewing brought back fond memories of my time spent in Ireland and my exposure to the people. This won't be a majorly long memoir - just something that I want people to know. The Irish are simply one of the greatest people in the world.
They are such open, friendly and talkative people and if you are impartial, the biggest cussers in the world. However, when in Ireland, you don't have a choice of being impartial - you become one of them. That's just the great thing about Ireland and her people - they take you in with open arms and bathe you in a symphony of cussing, or for the more sensitive ears, a factory of heavy, industrial ear and religious abuse. :)
They are a lively, passionate people, full of life and vigour and it would be a nearly impossible mission to find one person that won't make you smile. As I promised, this won't be a long blog, and so that's it. I really do love the Irish. God bless them. :)
They are such open, friendly and talkative people and if you are impartial, the biggest cussers in the world. However, when in Ireland, you don't have a choice of being impartial - you become one of them. That's just the great thing about Ireland and her people - they take you in with open arms and bathe you in a symphony of cussing, or for the more sensitive ears, a factory of heavy, industrial ear and religious abuse. :)
They are a lively, passionate people, full of life and vigour and it would be a nearly impossible mission to find one person that won't make you smile. As I promised, this won't be a long blog, and so that's it. I really do love the Irish. God bless them. :)
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