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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.