Wednesday, February 25

Tedious medical update: Only for the eyes of those so bored that reading about my baikar is more interesting than work. Have more or less given up on Western medicine, having been on steroids for more than a year, on top of trying at least four other types of pills, but the problem keeps flaring up.

Because of the pain and swelling, I haven't worn heels for close to two months, severely curtailing my clubbing and drinking habits. Which is good, objectively speaking, but no fun at all. Anyway, I've been seeing a sinseh and taking vile Chinese herbs diligently three times a day, and my feet seem better after two weeks.

Was even able to celebrate wearing heels for the first time last Friday with way too many drinks at Zouk. At the last count, I think it was 11. But I digress. So, I'm due to see my specialist tomorrow, and I'm gearing myself up to tell him that I have decided to stop treatment and Western medication. But he's such a nice proper old British gent that I feel like I'm letting him down, somehow.

Tuesday, February 24

"You're my soul mate."

If he had said that two or three years ago, I would have taken it to heart, even if I knew deep down that the words -- then and just now -- were only uttered in jest.

And anyway, I don't believe in soul mates, or the elusive mythical creature known as The One.

Monday, February 23

Dogville has been haunting my thoughts since I saw it last night. The last film that did that to me was Mulholland Drive, but Dogville is more thought-provoking and almost universal in its criticism [I think?] of basic human nature.

The movie has too many layers for me to write about it coherently, and you can probably find much better and cheemer expositions on the net. So all I shall say is: Watch it, even if it makes you squirm in your seat.

Sunday, February 22

"Good, better, best
Never let it rest
Till the good is better
And the better best."

That Teamy the bee tune -- if you can sing along, you have just betrayed your age -- has been stuck in my head since Friday.

Had a date with my new girl friend from work, who will also be my companion for the 24-hour cable car ordeal in early March. More about the cable car thingy closer to the actual date, although you must surely be able to tell that it involves spending, erm, 24 hours in a, erm, cable car.

Anyway, we caught The Girl With A Pearl Earring, press previews being one of the few perks of the job. Beautiful painting-like framing of every scene with amazing attention to details, made me want to return to the National Gallery which I neglected to visit more than once. Shame on me.

As we were trotting along to the bus stop, out of nowhere, we started singing Teamy's theme song as well as that Children's Day song, commiting artrocities against the Malay language along the way.

Highly amusing, and we now feel assured that with our prowess of self-entertainment, we would be able to survive 24 hours in each other's company.

Wednesday, February 18

These are the countries I've visited, only 6 per cent of the whole world, I'm afraid. You can create your own world map too.

Now I'm sniggering to myself over the words "world map", cos that's what my lurve calls the patterns she creates when she drools in her sleep.

Monday, February 16

Five hours spent gloriously naked, lolling around on a fluffy mattress. Having every inch of skin lovingly caressed and every muscle stretched to the point of lethargy. And then floating off into dreamland. Ahhhh...bliss.

Friday, February 13

Pardon the vulgarities, but I am so blardee pissed off with work. As if it's not enough that I'm overworked and underpaid, I still get shit for the stories I churn out. Why do I even give a flying fuck?

Times like these, I am seriously tempted to test out just what would really happen if I simply turn off my mobile, don't submit my stories at all and let the fucking hole on the page go straight to hell for all I care. The eds just take it for granted that I'm going to be responsible even if I have to stay up till ungodly hours to finish my stories. And not as if these are major policy-shifting, life-changing pieces, they are just crap about expensive mobile phones and bar-top dancing, for crying out loud. There are more important things in life.

Well, after spending every night the past week working from home till late, tonight I'm going to fuck it.

Monday, February 9

The most deserted aisles of Borders are in the self-help section, I've discovered. To be more precise, it's the relationship section, which harbours books with titles such as Find A Husband After 35 Using What I Learned At Harvard Business School, Finding Mr Write, Updating: How To Find A Man Or Woman Who Once Seemed Out Of Your League, Why There Are No Good Men Left, If I’m So Wonderful Why Am I Still Single, and -- this is my personal favourite -- Stop Getting Dumped: All You Need To Know To Make Men Fall Madly In Love With You And Marry “The One” In 3 Years Or Less.

And I didn’t even have to make any of these snigger-inducing titles up.

So there I was, sheepishly checking out these books and trying to look like I was seriously interested in them. As I carted an armload of them to the counter, I imagined pitying looks from other browsers who must think I’m some sad dateless sod suffering from some sort of pre-Valentine’s Day anxiety attack.

Surrounded by $400 worth of books now, I wonder who buys them -- plenty of single women, according to research for my story -- because the advice is worthless. I am no closer to making men fall madly in love with me and proposing marriage in 3 years or less.

Sunday, February 8

"Finally he spoke the three simple words that no amount of bad art or bad faith can ever quite cheapen. She repeated them, with exactly the same slight emphasis on the second word, as though she were the one to say them first."

Finished reading two books over the weekend. One was a piece of trashy writing with a title so cheesy I can't even recall it. The other was so sublime that I mentally kicked myself for putting off reading it until now. Atonement by Ian McEwan is a masterpiece that burns slowly with each voluptuous sentence. I regret racing through it instead of savouring every turn of the page.

Saturday, February 7

Quadruple birthday celebrations in Bangkok

Lost luggage.

Bird's net only costs 100 baht, unlike real bird's nest.

Happy and blur.

Clearly tired.

Happy birthday to us. Forever 29!!!

Wednesday, February 4

No, I haven't died from an overdose of bak kwa over Chinese New Year. Nor did I catch the H5N1 virus [otherwise known as bird flu] while in Bangkok.

All I did in my long hiatus from this blog was to grow fatter and older.