Greeks and Tenors

Journal entry #000:

I hate diaries.

I hate Ian's long hair - it is so unbecoming. Maybe he should've worn the dress and veil during the wedding.

I hate the wedding. My own daughter, doing it to spite me.

(Did you know, the word "wedding" comes from the Greek word "jdfixwrycvn", which means "Gus-does-NOT-write-in-diaries".)

I am not a sissy man. I don't lament in diaries about regrets and talk about lessons-I-have-learned-about-different-cultures.

I am a manly man.

I never flinch in the face of adversity - I just use Windex.

And I DON'T write in diaries.













* * * * *

Never liked writing essays on How I've Learned To Accept Cultures.

We did it with June May in the Joy Luck Club, we wrote about how she finally embraced her Chinese roots.

Now Gus has learned to accept non-Greeks, and really, Cultural Lessons is the most boring topic to write about.

* * * * *

Speaking of media people, fictional or otherwise - I finally realize the gravity of the death of Luciano Pavarotti.

Since I was in primary school, my father would listen to The Three Tenors, and his favourite had probably been Pavarotti, seeing that he always goes, "Roti, Roti!" around the house.

His rendition of Nessun Dorma is the only one of such piece to go into my iPod's Top 25 Most Played.


We were looking at the article in The Star that reported his death, and I was stupid enough to go, "Eh look, his eyebrows are thicker than his eyes!"

Which is, obviously, NOT the kind of thing you say about a man who could sing opera and died from battling cancer.

R.I.P.