Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Importance of being earnest

I was about 11 or 12 when I first laid eyes on it. Mum was browsing through the furniture store for a greyscale cabinet and all I could think of was the sculptured horse of transluscent rock but RM700 was a hefty pricetag for an 11-year old. These days I wander round looking for something that might bring back that once-in-a-lifetime stir but though I have seen and added equine pieces to my collection, none have satisfied the way a memory could.

There was a yellow, detached house with hexagon-shaped windows in Hui Sing which I've hankered after since I was 9. When I recall it, I not only remember the double-storey windows and indoor balcony, but also mandarin classes with Mrs Foo and being told that to prepare for a wedding takes a year (a horrifyingly long period of time to a 9-year old).

That's the problem isn't it? For how can anything or anyone compete with a memory? The deceased wife, the loved-and-lost significant other, the smell of flapjacks on a winter's day.

There are many memories I have created by will; the hanging up of a Christmas sock, drinking hot chocolate on a mountain side, sipping tea lounging in a chair, curling up in a remote cafe with a good book but often the memory doesn't feel like what it looks like.

I guess one just has to keep on creating memories in the hope that one day it will feel like what it looks like in my head.

An Un-Day

Feeling totally emo and snappy and sulky and bla bla bla. Going to wallop a box of chocolates if I can get my hands on one and smear my insides with chocolate until my arteries clog. Feeling Un-Chrismassy, Un-Motivated, Un-Coherent (I am NOT incoherent; just feeling UN). Saying things I don't mean and meaning things I don't say. My mind is going to explode. I need a happy pill. Just want to sleep. When I wake up life won't suck less but sleep will at least trick me into feeling that it doesn't suck more. Unless I get cabin fever. Stupid happy-clappy American song is playing on air. People who are THAT carefree are the serious psychos; not me. I'm normal.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Shrek talk

An ogre, like an onion, has layers (apparently).

Supposedly a defence against bad-breath and a lousy disposition, what the ogre does not say is this; that it is not the self-rightous beholder in his pathetic tentative steps, a decaying olive branch extended and nose wrinkled, who has made the larger sacrifice, but the beheld ogre himself as he stands, dermis stripped and bleeding, facing those who would pass judgment.

Monday, November 21, 2011

India take 1

India = Taj Mahal; curry and Slumdog Millionaire.


me: Hey you've been to Delhi right? I'll be going over. Anything good to eat/see?

Abby: Uhmm. Food- all the naans, and the cheeses

me: Indian cheese?

Abby: You doing the golden triangle? ie Delhi, Agra, Jaipur?

me: Didn't know India was famous for cheese. (re golden triangle) Yes! I believe so and 2 more places

Abby: Like the palak paneer?

me: What's that?

Abby: You know.. spinach with cheese. You need to read up on Northern Indian food


me: That's kind of Northern. I thought Delhi was southern...

Abby: OMG! First, go look at a map of INDIA