Sunday, June 14, 2015

This Silence

There is a silence out there, a silence, and I don't know how far it stretches, or how deep it goes. A silence, that encompasses everyone and everything. My phone, it does not buzz, at least, it does not buzz with messages or mail from the people I want to hear from.

Elliott is pretty sick.

I need to inject some cough mixture down his throat.

I need to write letters. There are letters to be written.

Trying to transcribe the story I have written I realise that it's all wrong and I don't like it. I am trying to figure out where I go from here.

Today, I discovered Aruna Shields.

Today I took Bruno to get his stitches removed. His testicles are infected. I have to squeeze them and apply a cream. And give him two sets of antibiotics - one targeted at the aerobic bacteria and one at the anaerobic bacteria. He is due to visit the vet again next week. Sigh. He is not a restful travelling companion.

Sometimes I wish there were someone else in the car, someone to hold the dog or dogs as I take them to the vet.

But there is no one.

No one who stays. No one who calls. No one who sticks around.

Friday, May 15, 2015

Calm Despair

I didn't abandon you, you know. You left. And if I didn't pester you, it was not because I didn't love you, but because I was tired. I had work to deal with. I had my own stuff. And I figured you would resurface when you ready to.

And you did. A picture of calm despair. To pay back the money you owed. The money I had forgotten you owed. The money you could have kept. You were tying up loose ends, it was clear to see. No you hadn't come to see me. I stood there in my towel, dripping wet, conditioner still in my hair and asked you to wait until I had washed it off and put on some clothes.

But no, you wouldn't.

I called after you. Asked if we could meet up sometime. You said to call you. But you switched off your phone. The prompt told me your number was "unavailable". So I sent you a text. You answered that. With words that told me...just how bad things were. You could no longer pretend, keep up appearances.

Everything was lost, everything dissolved, everything torn to shreds.

I know my love doesn't count.

But it's there.

And if we don't ever meet again, I want you to read this and know this.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Blue Horses

I came into work bright and early today. Well, relatively. I have a story in my inbox to clear or rather overhaul and I am trying to feed myself full of mental vitamins to tackle this gargantuan task. I seem to like clearing less and less.So I brought my copy of Blue Horses with me, a book of poetry by Mary Oliver. I bought it at the Harvard bookshop while I was in Boston. Lovely!

So I dip into it, read a poem about a heron and a frog (the first one) and then I will look at the transcript of the interview that was sent to me (it contained good stuff), read the story she sent me again...and figure out what I want to extract from it to shape and structure my Asean story.

I wish I had something profound to say here, but I don't.

Just that I woke up heavy hearted, feeling extraordinarily sad. I have given up trying to assign reasons for why I feel what I feel and what I am picking up on.

Hopefully the feeling will dissolve during the day...if you feel your sadness instead of trying to hide from it, usually it moves through your body, as energy does. It's only trapped energy that turns toxic.

Later for you.

Sunday, May 10, 2015


When something feels evil, trust your gut instinct. It's almost always right. And when people make you feel guilty for feeling what you feel, trust it more. Every time someone has made me feel guilty (or maybe, I made myself feel that) for being put off and disgusted by a person, that person has turned out to be bad news after all.

Evil people can be like toads sort of camouflaged in the garden, brown and ugly and really, so uninteresting that you fail to notice them. But there they are, behind the scenes, dripping poison into your little world. In this case it only worked part way. It didn't really work out as she planned. I am glad for it. I am glad she exposed herself enough to be kicked out. And I hope she really got the job she told everyone that she got. Because if she didn't, well, she will have a lot of time to sit around feeling hard done by and sending her poisonous thoughts my way.

These people tire me. And I need to buy one of those magic stones that say, back to sender, back to sender, right back to sender.

I've spent a lazy day on the sofa watching movies on iTunes. Cake (with Jennifer Aniston), Jiro Dreams of Sushi (I feel asleep while it was going on and only woke up at the end...the voice over was so soothing), Renaissance Man (which I really loved, although I disagreed with their reading of Hamlet whom I persist in thinking was a complete bastard!). I updated my other blog. I put in some stitches to the tapestry I am doing for Kat. (I stopped working on that for the longest time). I started on a letter to Nessa. I took Elliot for his walk and fed him (and the two doggies whom I forgot were chewy little buggers - they have destroyed one pair of my shoes and other slippers outside which I had better get rid off before Dadda comes back).

I thought they would be happy to be locked within our gate but they started crying wanting to go out. I think my neighbour was taking Sam and Sydney out for a walk and they always follow. Julie said she would ask her friend Sharad if his aunt would take them on her large estate (although she already has five dogs there).

Things seem so scattered lately. The moment I get back into KL I tense up and have difficulty sleeping. My room is a mess so I don't sleep there. Instead, I put on the aircon and sleep in the hall. The days are unbearable hot and turgid. I flip idly through books registering nothing. I try to write letters but nothing sticks.

I am wondering now whether this lack of focus has anything to do with the cellular waves that are flooding the space around me. What if I were to go somewhere uncovered by all this telecommunications equipment. Would I then be able to think again? Would I then have peace?

Tuesday, March 03, 2015

And just like that, March is upon us.

It's late and I'm tired. I've gone through one pullout (with a fine-tooth comb) and now I have to do the same for another. My eyes are scratchy and I just want to go home curl up in bed and watch an inane movie over iTunes or YouTube or whatever. Either that or read Love, Nina and then fall asleep.

Funnily enough, although it's just Tuesday, it feels like it's been a hard week.

Yesterday, I lost my phone and my morning pages diary.

Today, I found it again.

I guess I'll just keep that old nose to the grindstone until I'm done with what I have to do.

(Enthusiasm, where are you? Passion, likewise? Did you creep out the backdoor as I was editing pages and pages, with no clear idea where or when or how?)

If Mum was alive, I would call her now to chat. I'd say, yeah, been busy Mum, but will be done by today. Then maybe make plans to go back to JB to hang out with her.

If Mum were alive...

Somehow I think I am going to sleepwalk through the following days, stuck on autopilot, not seeing and not really caring. Not really there, if you know what I mean.

What I need to do is make lists and start doing practical things towards planning my trip because...well, it's creeping closer.

Without any warning, March is upon us. The ides of March. The time for take-off. Such things, such things.

And although it is March and speaks of tempests and tsunamis, floods and conflagrations, I would prefer to be calm, serene, mindful, untroubled.

Maybe I'll re-read Seeds from a Birch Tree again.

Or the Long Quiet Highway.


Sunday, March 01, 2015

Sunday, February 22, 2015


Today I finally finished my obstreperous novel. When I finally got down to writing again, the story poured out of me and I didn't quit until I was done. And that was when I realised. It was not about completing the novel. It was about hammering it into shape. Now I shall have to copy what I wrote into a word document. And commence: editing!

The working title is Pristine and I'm making fun of a lot of things but it turns out sort of tragic, anyway.

Now let's see if I can whip it into shape.