Saturday, September 29, 2007

Not Bringing Him Home, Don't Worry

Dhaka Calling.

I am exhausted.

I don't know what to say because I'm so tired.

The city comes to me differently the second time around. No wide-eyed wonder, no naive elation at the days to come. If I must be honest, I had dread in my stomach. I had it all through the journey, sulking to myself as if I hadn't done this out of my own free will.

But then we hit the highway, and the hot sticky air enveloped me and the fumes hit my face and all around me was life, bustling and as raw as I remembered it. I couldn't help but smile.

Monday, September 24, 2007

I'm all geared up.

The feeling of buying your own gear? Fantastalistic.

The feeling of buying your own gear with your own hard earned money? Priceless.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

I swear I've had enough beer over the past few days to drown a small elephant.

And also, I'm running on a delightful 160GB 1GB ram thanks to a delightful bloke named Simon who operates out of a pub. Which may explain the beer intake. Which would change to sake if I were not leaving in a matter of days.

And without even meaning to, I've realised that there's just no changing the way I'm wired. Its not a case of old habits die hard, its a case of a leopard not changing its spots. Or a cat and her whiskers. Or some other animal-related analogy.

The point is there is just not enough concrete in all the world to block up my soft spots.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

10 Days: The Art in the Lie

"The bigger the lie, the closer you are to the truth."

I had a chance to interview Zadok Ben-David yesterday. I don't usually like sculptures because I know squat about art but his stuff is.... well, go see for yourself.

And his statement is really killing my brain. My brain has been doing a million squats and the muscles can't take no more.

This is why I know squat about art. And why my perverse love for all things theory is ultimately going to kill myself because, let's face it, I use so many brain cells trying to understand long words and convulated sentences its almost mental suicide.

And plus I have a shitty memory. So it's all for nothing since I forget what I read almost instantly.



And I leave in 10 days, in case the title didn't already send off the proper implications.

Just call me 'cher!

Friday, September 07, 2007

As I listen to Johnny Hates Jazz I almost choked when I read that Marks and Sparks make cat food.

Interesting morning so far.

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Idiosyncrasies

Cat 1: I will eat, but only after a 15-min exploratory walk round the neighbourhood (corridor).

Cat 2: I want to eat, but you must cajole and coax me repeatedly and sit next to me and stroke my back constantly or I will stop eating.

Cat 3: I'll have what they're having. No, no don't give me my own stuff I'll want their stuff.

This is why I now wake up one hour earlier to feed the fucking princesses. It was my own mistake not to have started them off on dry food and dry food alone, but I suppose in typical asian fashion, my mom and I feel a lot more affectionate when we engage in the act of feeding.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

I have two puncture wounds on my calf, not unlike (i lurb double negs) a vampire's love bite. Only that it was inflicted by Cat 2, who was trying to get at Cat 3, who was unfortunately under the blankets next to Calf 1.

What a painful morning.

I have been attempting/doing an enormous amount of cooking since the folks left town. I constantly overestimate my appetite, and I think I always end up cooking enough for two.

And it exhausts me, entirely. Picking up after the three cats exhausts me as well. Cat 2 and Cat 3 are not getting along, and I've always been woken up by snarls.

Cat 1? Oh she's above it all.

I could never wake up on time for work, but I have absolutely no problems waking up at 6,7,8am to feed these idiots. Case in point, its a saturday, and i'm blogging at 930am AFTER breakfast and AFTER feeding them (which takes about half an hour or more cos they're fucking princesses).

But I am enjoying this, oh you bet I am.