September 22, 2009 • 3:24 pm 0
Ellie (or rather, Elliott Bent) the boy kitten snoozing in the sun. I look at him and I think of what Albert Schweitzer had said: “Think of the suffering of which you have spared yourself the sight.” I’m glad I’m going veg. Determination seems to come easier these days. There is no inclination towards pork at all. Chicken is the daily temptation, but with time and some effort, that should be conquered. So should seafood. Meow.
Filed under: humdrum
August 27, 2009 • 3:20 pm 0
It was a foggy day-night, I no longer remember. All that stood out was the fog. We were fishing but we couldn’t even see the water. I remember being afraid of falling over. The fog and the water and the boat were all blurred into one misty-white landscape. In the end, the fishing rod jiggled and we whoa-ed and wowed and pulled a pomfret out of the fog.
In other news, I rescued (picked up, more like) a kitten early this week. I was putting on shoes outside the door when I heard faint meows from the lift. When the door beeped open, there it was, a bewildered tabby tentatively stepping out. Ellie’s always hungry, super manja and rather naughty.
Starkey – one of the few dogs I know who loves cats – was super happy with the addition to the family. Brekkie was less pleased (perhaps even jealous). So I’m trying to get Ellie (who is likely to be a boy) adopted out soon.
Here’s Ellie:
Today I also realised how much depression has wrecked my hopes of normal life – I can’t even get insurance without having to go back to that institute for a report that will certify my sanity. Sometimes, I think, I have had enough of this life…except there is Starkey and Brekkie and more cats to rescue.
August 17, 2009 • 3:49 pm 0
You see, I was supposed to post something about the two dreams I had some time back. But I just kept going back for more… sleep, instead of writing because I am so so sick of it. So sick of how, by writing, I seem to be condemning myself to the chains of frugality, forever.
Anyway, I still remember bits of it. Vaguely, something about travelling thick into the Amazonian jungle, in search of a special spot, the only spot on Earth without gravity. It was controlled by the indigenous people so tourists had to pay to enter it. We took a boat in – there were several. I think I was afraid of piranhas, or the possibility of piranhas (since it would have been interesting to see those tiny killers).
When we got off the boats, we had to line up, in zig-zaggy lines typical of tourists to move in. Everyone was floating in there. It was amazing, miraculous, well-worth the expensive ticket. I’ve always wanted to go space, I remember muttering. And then we floated. We could move our arms around, “swim” a little. We only had 20 minutes before the next batch of tourists. We were awed.
I can’t remember the other dream now. In other news, I just lit some sparklers with K and planning a trip to Penang. And I’m getting the iPhone 3Gs tomorrow. Am very excited – I can be such a tech-nut sometimes. I should have been a boy. But nevermind, I have a boy dog, and he has just finished his rawhide bone and he is happy, and so am I.
August 10, 2009 • 4:33 pm 0
Chanced upon the new store by Soon Lee after watching UP in 3-D (*Squirrel!*). Rockstar by Soon Lee stocks girly sneakers, comfortable dresses, cotton cushions, notebooks by Birds & Co and etc. Very nice!
Some pix from their blog:
Rockstar is at #03-08 Orchard Cineleisure.
Filed under: all things frivolous, humdrum
• 4:25 pm 0
My very dear Starkey, you are three today. Since you came into my life, everything changed for the better. I came home to a bouncy, greedy shih tzu every day. I love you lots. Because you, literally, saved my life. I want to spend every one of your birthdays with you and shower you with treats and toys! Hugs!
August 4, 2009 • 1:58 pm 0
I’ve almost forgotten about this blog. Here’s a pix of Starkey snoozing.
In other news, I write non-stop, had a diabetic scare, am involved with PR for stray cats and the training of a Jack Russell Terrier, and am constantly thinking of get-rich-quick schemes. I had some weird dreams too, coming up next.
Filed under: humdrum
April 12, 2009 • 5:48 pm 0
Couldn’t sleep after three-quarters of a tall latte at ten. A few nights ago – those panicky feelings came back, at about three-twenty-five in the morning, after a ridiculous dream. It was then I missed those little pills of mine. Since I got well (how can just two words sum up that tedious journey back to health?), my red pillbox has been overflowing with Prozac, neglected. Every now and then I’d reach in for Nurofen instead, more powerful than paracetamol. When I went back to the doctor’s and I mentioned, tentatively, Ativan please, he scoffed and said ‘How old school!” I hadn’t realised how 1970s our mental institution had been.
Anyhow, that wasn’t what I set out to write about at all. I had been okay for a long time now. Even the dreams are elusive, are fuzzier. But I missed those dreams. I vaguely remember one about flying, to escape some rogues at a spa, high high up, seeing sandcastles on a beach, a decision to power up and fly higher, went up too high past the clouds and had difficulty breathing. Then another, where my teeth dropped out. Common dreams – nothing a dream dictionary couldn’t solve and that disappointed me.
September 30, 2008 • 4:09 pm 0
GQ is fabulous fabulous, in a way many women’s mags are not. I am listening to Nick Drake and thinking how to negotiate my way to an oil rig in Alaska, to Oooguruk, the US$500 million dollar man-made island on ice, where the cold is just cold. Perhaps that might be a place to run to, a way to be workable, somehow. Since I couldn’t write a single decent word on a certain Mediacorp actress today, I am telling myself I must write more. I decided that while I was listening to Let It Die by Feist – over, over and over again. Perhaps I can write about Alaska, in Alaska. Here, in the safe security of home, the dog has gotten the cat to swat a half-eaten pack of catnip drops off the dining table and am, at this present moment, finishing off whatever his tongue can get out of that little pack. Tomorrow is a public holiday – I can dream tonight.
Filed under: belljar
September 24, 2008 • 2:40 pm 0
Before I sleep I’d ruffle Starkey’s fur and smell his paw and feel very grateful he’s just right there next to me, even if the rest of the flat is dark and devoid of – pretty much everything. Yesterday night I buried my face into his fur and told him you had a brother you had a brother! And I was thinking of Moggy and his sweet face and his mini coughs. And the memories are getting vaguer – I had re-watch videos to remember how he used to run, how he used to sleep, how he used to cough even. I later dreamt of a giant mall where each level was stamped with multi-coloured footprints and I didn’t leave mine because I was floating slightly above the shiny floors. That’s all I remember for now. This afternoon I spilled coffee all over my khaki-coloured dress – I had shut my tired eyes just when I was negotiating a corner – and almost cried at the loss of pretty much everything except for my shreds of sanity, and of course Starkey, who is at this moment satisfied with the daisy he chewed as dessert.
September 17, 2008 • 1:18 pm 0
It has been over a week since I discovered the mould on the inside of my waterbottle. So it must have been over a week since I stopped popping Prozac. Thing is, I don’t exactly understand why I’m doing this. Perhaps because I have exactly 3 Ativans left in my little red pill box that’s why. I have wasted them over weekends, when the going is hard and the heart is pained. Then suddenly I realised that I am finishing up my supply, and so stopped. And stopped the Prozac too. Which means life is strangely a culmination of days into the next big breakdown and I am worried. I tell myself every morning to pop one into my mouth, how hard is it? But I don’t know. I miss Moggy – it will be his death anniversary next Tuesday. Oh dark thoughts. I tell Starkey he had an elder brother he never knew, but he just smiled and walked away.
Several nights ago I plunged down a dry canal in pursuit of a story – a woman, a family of three…at least three children in rags, huddling in the lit underbelly of the city. A marathon, 10km far. Him running. I don’t exactly understand so yesterday night I climbed into bed, closed my eyes (and shut out the mess of my room . cat . dog . clothes strewn all over) and attempted to go back to that scene. It’s been cold lately which is good. Some evenings I come home and stare at the gogglebox all night. No one to talk to, to ask if i’ve eaten, to laugh with. Only the dog and his cat. So I talk to them. Throw toys for a round of fetch. Chase them around the house. One day I tell you I’ll go mad.
September 9, 2008 • 7:51 am 0
Plath’s obsession with loving Hughes seems to be something I’m living out from my bed – groaning. moaning. Remembering when they first met, how they loved, how she loved – fiery and stubborn, like me. An abandonment of self – why, for whom, deserving, no, yes? The Ativans soothe me oh so so much. I hadn’t realised how much I missed my little white pills. The wooziness, toppling against walls, groaning, groggy. Three days gone – just like that. What happened to all those months of trying? I forgot, couldn’t care less. It’s one pill two pills snooze two pills snooze another pill. Just no life-saving Prozac – I don’t know what to save my life for when ultimately I am all alone. I remember Plath in her last days – why do I remember it? Surely some karmic residue? Her pottering around the chilly flat. Looking dreadful. The kids sleeping. Preparing the milk. Sealing the doors. Turning on the gas. A terrible way to go. Why do I remember? A suicide does have far-reaching impact. At the rate I’m going, I may, like Plath, have just six more years to live. Or, it may all end tomorrow.
August 19, 2008 • 2:43 pm 0
I’m not too sure if I can resist this delicately beautiful silk-screened dress from Wiksten. But I really should. I’ll compensate myself with this irresistibly cute Official (Unofficial) Team Zissou Intern Tee instead.
Filed under: humdrum
August 15, 2008 • 1:13 pm 0
The medicine is working, else I won’t be at a lost about what to blog about. My hands shake very occasionally, usually while I’m holding a fork. Otherwise, all’s jolly and dandy with my life right now. We attempted the deep pool yesterday evening – a brave dip on a full moon’s night. It was beautiful, pushing water under water. I think I should like diving very much. There is a cheerful recklessness about me these days. Swim to that ladder. Sure, why not. And I took a deep breath and went. It surprised me – that recklessness. It was almost like I didn’t care. Maybe the serotonin is flooding my synapses. But whatever – I peered at the old folks at the pool again. There was an elderly couple, both learning to swim to together. Like fishes in love, A said, uncharacteristically poetic. Then there was this old dude with a fat belly, happily waddling in the water. We had porridge after that as usual, and a mango pudding to finish up the meal. I spoke to a budgie at the pet shop after that. He bent down, pushed his head against the grilles, as if telling me to stroke him. I did and I think, he almost purrrrrred in delight. You’re a clever bird, I said. And he stared at me fixedly. You don’t have to lie to me, budgie. I read studies. You’re smarter than us. Talk to me! Budgie screeched: lao ban ngiang! lao ban ngiang! Brilliant – I want a budgie.
Filed under: humdrum
July 24, 2008 • 2:20 pm 0
In all vividness:
I was walking towards a Starbucks – nowhere in the city, in an unknown single-storey shopping centre. Just as I approached the counter, my fingers dipping into my fat wallet for coins, something rammed into ceiling violently and shook the laze out of the shoppers. I crouched down in terror. Collective cries abound. Debris started to fall like cement rain. I peered out of the full-length glass windows and saw, a fat plane, with red splashes on the body, skidding onto the field opposite, skidded and stopped. I hear shocked gasps all around. “Oh no no no no please,” I muttered. The red, fat plane burst into flames. Cut. We ran out. Cut. “Oh no oh no oh no.” Moans, blood, people dying everywhere. I wanted to help. But too many were dying, or dead. I ran up and down the columns of casualties in fright, dabbing away blood. It was mayhem. It was, like what a Buddhist monk once told me, collective karma resulting in hell on earth.
Swirl.
In the hospital room. I was the invisible observer, floating slightly above the floor. Looking down on two hospital cots – in one a child, almost a child, reaching out for his twin brother, refusing to go without him. His brother, sleeping and shrivelled, was a terrifying sight. Their weeping parents were distraught – the mother tugging at the father.
Swirl.
